There was no reason for me to dwell on it.
But he must have caught the expression on my face because he cupped my cheek and waited until I was looking up at him.
“I’ve never brought a woman back to my place before.”
I blinked in surprise. “Really?”
He smiled. “Really. I don’t want other people in my space.”
“But you brought me here.” Twice now. Of course, that first night, he didn’t have a choice, but tonight…
“I know.”
He kissed me again, leaving me yearning for more.
He pulled away much too soon. I let out a small protest, and he cupped my breast, pinching my nipple and playing with it.
“Be good,” he said, plucking at my nipple a few times before letting go of me and reaching down between us, fumbling with his clothes.
He sat up and took off his shirt. I could only lie there and greedily drink in the sight of all the bare skin he had on display.
He was so beautiful, with detailed tattoos that drew my attention. He didn’t have many—not as many as Valentino—but they were breathtaking. From the vertical blade pointing down through two snakes that symbolized the De Luca Famiglia on hischest, to the burning compass on the left side of his ribs, and finally, the skull surrounded by what looked like fog and smoke on his right bicep.
Every hard plane of muscle was fully out for me to see. He was huge and hard and scarred. My hands reached out and touched a vertical scar that was about five or six inches long on the right side of his ribs. This wasn’t just a normal scar. Someone tried to kill him. My bottom lip trembled at the sight, and he grabbed my hand, moving it away and up to his chest.
“It was a long time ago,” he said.
“What happened?”
It wouldn’t change anything if I knew what happened, and I was sure someone trying to kill him was just a normal part of his life, but that didn’t make it easier to swallow.
What would I do if something were to happen to Elio?
A strange look crossed his face. I was about to say that he didn’t need to tell me when he spoke. “My father.”
I blinked, unsure if I had heard him right. His father…
And I thought my father was bad. But at least he had never tried to stab me. Of course, that would have left a pretty noticeable scar, so that was probably what stopped him, but still.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
He lay his body on top of mine once more, not heavy enough to be suffocating, but enough that I could feel his solid form on top of me, grounding me.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “I don’t even feel it anymore.”
He could say that all he wanted, but I knew from firsthand experience that the hurt you received from the one person who was supposed to love and protect you could leave more scars than just physical ones.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down until we were kissing again. I poured everything I felt for himinto that kiss, hoping he could hear what I was too afraid to put into words.
I love you.
I had loved him since I knew what love was, and even as I tried to tell myself to let go of that feeling, that I would be better off if I did, it just wasn’t possible.
He kissed me back, his lips moving over mine in a desperate urgency that I didn’t think could exist until him.
He pulled away first, looking straight into my eyes, searching for an answer only I could give.
I nodded my consent.
