She rocked in the chair and closed her eyes.
“My God, Salvatore, you’re so talented. You could probably open your own store. Are you going to place some of these things on display for the fall festival?” she asked him, and then stood up.
“No. I don’t let anyone see these pieces.” He sounded snappy to his own ears, and Lucia heard it, too. She walked closer, checked out some of the other things.
“I get it. Maybe you’re more critical of your work because you’re the artist. Artists never think their projects are perfect.”
“I’m not an artist. I told you that earlier,” he replied. She was standing a few feet in front of him and in front of the workbench.
They were both silent. It was like they were both trying to fight something inside of them. He knew what his hang-up was. The fear of hurting her like he hurt Lindsey, like he was capable of hurting anyone when he was lost in a nightmare.
“I guess we should head back,” she started to say, when he reacted. He grabbed her hand and closed the space between them. His hands moved to her waist, and she tilted back over the desk slightly, a look of concern on her face.
He stared at her, and the brown of her eyes, the appetizing look of her lips.
“Lucia, I...”
He got quiet. What could he say to her? What was he trying to tell her? Maybe warn he
r of his violent behavior and inability to be gentle? He wanted to be gentle with her. He wanted to caress her skin, hold her in his arms, and protect her, possess her, yet he feared his own capabilities.
“Thank you for showing me these things you made. I’m impressed,” she whispered.
“I want to kiss you. I want to be gentle with you and move slowly.”
“Your brothers mentioned that you were in the service. What branch?” She ignored his statement, and she looked scared, timid, and it aroused something masculine and strong within him. She needed protection, compassion, and care. She was a gorgeous young woman, and he and his brothers were older, intimidating men. He wanted to ease her mind and his own.
“The Marine Corps,” he whispered. She swallowed hard. He stepped closer, pressed his body against hers, and felt her shaking.
“I want to kiss you, Lucia, but you look scared of me.”
Her eyes roamed over his lips, his face, and his dick hardened.
“I am scared. I’m very scared for a lot of reasons.”
He stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair.
“You heard about her, didn’t you? About Lindsey and what I did? I knew it. I knew that’s why you’re looking that way at me. Like I’m some monster. It was a bad time in my life. I had recently returned from serving and I was all fucked up. Lindsey was there. We spent the night together and—”
He stopped, ran his hands through his hair, and then slammed his palms on the workbench next to her. He was shocked when he felt the hand go to his hand. Her dainty fingers caressed his thick, callused hand.
“What happened?” she asked him.
He turned to look at her and was shocked to see compassion in her eyes. He explained in great detail, feeling his heavy heart lighten as he talked about the incident with someone for the very first time.
“It sounds like you were caught in a nightmare and had no idea what you were doing. Your brothers were there for you.”
“But what if they weren’t? What if I killed her? What if I hurt you?”
He held her gaze and saw the fear, the uncertainty. He stood up, and she grabbed his hand.
“Salvatore, it seems we both have a lot of fears. You’re not the only one who’s been hurt, scarred by someone.”
He stepped in front of her and held her by her hips. “Someone hurt you?” he asked. His eyebrows scrunched up, and his gut tightened.
“Very badly. So much so, I had to leave my home, and hide.” His possessiveness and protectiveness were overwhelming.
“Who is he? Tell me his name.”