“Well,”I said, tipping my head back and giving him better access, “I could eatItalian—”
Hegroaned, sliding his hands from my back to my hips. “I got your Italian righthere. What else you want?”
Gigglingand pressing my waist to his, I ran my hands through his hair and said, “Howabout Chinese?”
“Hm,”he hummed contemplatively, moving his fingers to the hem of my wrinkled dress,“I could have that. But, first,” he clenched the fabric and slid it up over mythighs and waist, “I'm havin’ this.”
Hisraspy tone and wandering hands tripped my heart and stuttered my breath. “Oh,yeah?”
“Yeah,”he replied, nodding. “I need a do-over.”
Hepulled the dress over my head and threw it to the side, before slowly,carefully backing me into the couch and laying me down. This, his hands andlips gently caressing my skin and paying tribute to my body …thisfeltlike everything I'd wished our first time had been. And while I wouldn't holdthe night before against him, I wished I could replace the memory of our actualfirst time with this.
“You'refuckin' beautiful,” he said, settling between my hips and fitting into place.
“Soare you,” I replied, keeping my gaze pinned to his.
Hehadn't once looked at me when we first had sex. I wasn't sure if he could, withthe way he'd been feeling at the time—angry, upset, and desperate for releaseand distraction. But now, in this moment, he never tore his eyes away, neverdaring to look anywhere but at me, and I saw in them everything I felt buthadn't yet said. Iwantedto say it, I needed to, and although I wasn'talways the one to take the first step, with this, I couldn't resist.
“Vinnie.”
Hisforehead pressed to mine. “Yeah?”
“Ilove you.”
Thewords felt so light, so airy, on my tongue, like the sweetest cotton candy.They dripped from my mouth, floating on my breath to dissolve somewhere betweenour beating hearts.
Hiships froze and his brow furrowed. “You're serious?”
Inodded, suddenly afraid that he wouldn't say it back. “Yeah. I am.”
Vinniebit his bottom lip, searching my eyes with a growing intensity. Then, he said,“Say it again.”
Ifelt my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Why?”
“BecauseI wasn't prepared the first time,” he replied, unleashing his smile. “Say itagain.”
Pullingin a deep breath, I whispered, “I love you,” on my exhale. And Vinnie thrusthis lips against mine, kissing me deep and thoroughly, before muttering, “Ifuckin' love you, too, sweetheart.”
Itwasn't a perfect moment, but it was us. Vinnie and Andy, with all our secrets,darkness, and troubled minds. And I cherished it deeply and held onto it as wemade love on the couch. But all moments, good and bad, always end, and this onewas no exception.
Afterwe were sated and finished, he held me close in his arms and said, “I need youto promise me somethin', okay?”
“What?”I asked, pressing my grinning cheek to his chest.
“IfI ever do hurt you, you'll leave. You got me? You won't stick around for anyreason.”
Takenaback, I sat up and shook my head, because that's not how love and commitmentworks. You stand by each other, for better or worse, yet here he was, tellingme to leave.
“No,I can't—”
“Andy.If I hurt you, you will leave. Promise me.”
Andlooking back, that should have been my warning. I should have taken that, thevery possibility that he could hurt me, and ran far away. But I couldn't. Iloved him, and right now, he was the one hurting. I needed to help him, notleave him, so all I did was nod.
Igot up from the couch to find a more comfortable spot on his lap, and kissedhim to maybe, hopefully, unlikely take the pain away, and whispered, “Ipromise.”
CHAPTERNINETEEN
