“What are you doing?” she asks.
My gaze drops to the rise and fall of her chest and the pulse of her heartbeat quickening.
“I wanted to see you,” I answer. As the words fall from my lips, I sense that part of me that’s been locked away for years.
Locked away since that day when I found my mother in the river, saw her wide terrified eyes gazing back at me as if she were calling for my help from beyond the grave.
I look at Emelia and feel like the person I was before that happened. The man I could have been if I hadn’t been burned.
Her autumn eyes narrow and brim with the disappointment I saw nights ago when she looks at my shirt.
“There’s lipstick on your collar,” she states. “And you smell like perfume.”
Jealousy.
It’s all over her. Jealousy and hurt. Unlike the other day, however, I don’t want to taunt her about it.
“Is it hers?” she demands, staring me straight in the eye. “Gabriella’s?”
“Yes,” I reply. The hurt in her eyes deepens. I’ve never had a woman look at me like that before. Mostly because I’ve never given them the chance to believe we could be anything more than screwing around.
“Who is Gabriella to you, Massimo?”
“A friend.”
“A friend you sleep with?”
“Yes…” She looks visibly crushed at the declaration. Her chest and shoulders cave. Her brows pinch and her lips tremble.
“Get away from me,” she rasps and backs away.
I follow her until she backs right into the wall, unsteady. She makes a move to slip away, but I place my hands on the wall on either side of her, fencing her in.
“Get away from me, Massimo,” she mutters again.
“No,” I answer, and in that moment, I remember what Tristan said.
Think of what she is, not who she is. I said it was the same thing. It’s not. She’s a woman I’ve been attracted to for months. I got drawn into her. The same way I am now.
“I don’t want to do it tonight,” she says, shaking her head.
“Do what?”
A tear tracks down her cheek. “Listen to you tell me I’m nothing. I don’t want to hear about your night with her. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m with a man who isn’t mine. Now get out, get away—”
I don’t allow her to finish. Before she can say another word, I crush my lips to hers, capturing her pretty mouth. The second I taste her, all the desire I felt for her last night comes flooding back to me..
The taste of her. Her sweetness, her innocence, everything drives me fucking insane. But I get drunk on the taste of her need for me.
It’s the same as mine.
The shock pulls me from the trance of the kiss. I move away slightly and take in her stunned expression and the desire in her eyes. It unlocks the restraint I placed on myself and compels me to tell her the truth.
“I didn’t sleep with her,” I say, shocking myself further. I explain myself to no one. Not my actions, nor my motives for doing anything. Yet this woman compels me to make her the exception. Especially when she does the unexpected thing of reaching up her dainty hand to touch my cheek.
It’s the first time she’s willingly touched me. It feels like being touched by an angel. A woman too pure for the likes of me. A woman who’s unbroken and uncorrupted.
She’s like having something hallowed in my presence, while I’m the devil waiting by the door to lead her down the path of temptation. She knows this. She’s completely aware of who and what I am, but she’s looking at me like she wants me. In her gaze I see the path to redemption. Redemption from the vengeance I’ve sought for so long.