Page 21 of Finding Love

Her touch is the sweetest fire. It singes me, burning. I’ll never heal. I don’t want to. She’s already branded my soul. She may as well do the same to my body. My skin seems to sizzle as her fingers dance up and down my bare back, bunching the shirt around my shoulders. Every deep moan that tumbles from her luscious lips makes my dick twitch in anticipation.

I want to take my time, indulge in everything we’ve been unable to share for too long, but the way her pussy grinds against my rigid length tells me this might be over soon. I need the feeling of her wrapped around me, drawing me deeper, milking me.

“So fucking hot,” I groan out against her skin, cupping her covered tit and rubbing it before she yanks up her sweater to give me access to more of her. This is the Emilia I’ve missed—greedy, hungry, and unafraid to show it.

Burying my face between her tits, I lap at her skin, running my tongue under the cups. “Oh God,” she moans out, rewarding me by grinding harder against my dick.

Her enjoyment only makes me more determined to pleasure her. She’s been through so much, and I want to take her away from it and reintroduce her to everything we’re capable of together. “Yes…” she rasps out when I pull on one of the cups to reveal her taut nipple and flick it with my tongue. Her fingers run through my hair before tugging hard while she moans. “Yes, Luca.”

When she stiffens with no warning, I let out a disbelieving laugh. She already came? We’ve barely done anything.

Yet when I lift my head and look down at her, prepared to tease her a little, the shock printed on her flushed face freezes my blood. “What is it?” I ask, forgetting everything. “Did I hurt you somehow?”

Her eyelids flutter before she releases a shuddering breath. “I saw something… in my head. Oh God, get off me!” She’s twice as desperate now to get away from me as she was to have me all over her. When I don’t move fast enough, she wiggles out from underneath me and scrambles off the bed, putting her clothes in place before wrapping our arms around her trembling body.

“What was it?” I sit up, confused, breathless, and aching like hell. I’m so hard I might break my zipper, but that seems like the last thing on her mind as she starts pacing tight circles beside the bed.

“My eyes were closed just now,” she whispers, staring at the floor. She may as well be talking to herself. “And I saw a dark, dirty room. I was on this filthy little cot, and there were these men… these men who…”

She comes to a dead stop and covers her head with her hands. “And they did this. I was afraid to move.” Her voice rises in pitch until it’s almost a squeak that pierces my chest. “I was afraid they would slice me up.”

Shaking, she turns to me, her eyes bulging. “What the fuck happened to me? Why did you tell me I was attacked?”

She’s slipping through my fingers, pulling further away no matter how tightly I try to hold on. “You were,” I insist. “That’s what you were remembering. Your attack.”

It’s when I stand, prepared to hold her and comfort her, that she backs away. “No. That’s not the full story. Now I get it.” She laughs, high-pitched, almost hysterical. “It wasn’t just that somebody hurt me, and they might want to hurt me again. It didn’t have anything to do with my job, either. It was you,” she snarls out, her teeth bared.

“No!” I insist. “I would never?—”

“Stop! That’s not what I meant. And don’t touch me,” she snaps when I reach out to do just that. “I was… I was abducted, wasn’t I? They held me in that dark room. It wasn’t just like some guys grabbing me and beating me up in an alley to send you a message.” Her voice shakes and rises in pitch as more of it comes back. “Somebody took me out of a house. I was alone. I was fighting… I remember fighting… something about my shoe? Oh, dammit, I don’t know!”

Her hand claws at her temple as she tries to piece it all together. She’s teetering on the edge, about to fall apart. Holding her together is more important than defending myself. “You have to sit down,” I urge. “Breathe. You need to calm down before you give yourself a headache.”

She slaps my hand away when I reach out again and touch her shoulder. “Don’t tell me what I need.” Her lip curls in disgust when, moments ago, she was kissing me and moaning my name. “What else haven’t you told me? What else am I going to have to find out on my own?”

“If you would stop being hysterical for a minute, we could?—”

“What a great idea!” She throws back her head and laughs. “Tell the woman you supposedly love that she’s being hysterical.”

“Shitty choice of words,” I admit, and it’s taking everything I have in me to keep myself in check for her sake. There’s a roaring in my head to go with the pounding in my chest. I don’t need this. Not her anger or outrage, or the blame, especially not the blame, which I’ve heaped on myself all this time.

“What are you going to tell me now?” she demands. “What nice story are you going to give me? What excuse? Maybe you can bring your mother down to soften me this time.”

“Don’t do that.” I shake my head, leveling a stern gaze her way. That was a low blow. “Please don’t bring my mother into this,” I grit out, trying my hardest not to lose my shit again.

She blinks rapidly before swallowing. “No. You’re right. She actually seems like a nice person. Guilia, too,” she adds. “I wish I could say the same for everyone else. But all I get from you is half-truths or no truth at all,” she snaps before her eyes light up. “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to my mom yesterday?”

I can barely keep up with how her thoughts bounce from one to the other. “I didn’t get around to it.”

She throws her hands into the air with another laugh. “Congratulations. You put me in another shitty position. But I’ll tell you right now…” she insists with an edge to her voice, “… you are not coming to dinner to meet my family. Forget it. I’m not playing pretend for anybody.”

“You think it’s that easy?” When she spins on her heel to leave the bedroom, I beat her to the door, blocking the way. “You are not going anywhere alone, so don’t entertain the idea. I’m coming with you, and there will be guards watching us, and that’s final. Because whether you like it or not, there’s still danger out there.”

“Thanks to you,” she reminds me, eyes narrowed, her voice more like a snake’s hiss.

It’s nothing worse than what I’ve told myself countless times, yet much more potent coming from her mouth. “Yes. Thanks to me. And you fucking knew there was danger, and you wanted to be with me, anyway. So what does that say about your high-and-mighty ass?”

Her eyes widen like she’s in pain and something shocked her hard enough to make her rock back on her heels. One painfully silent moment after another passes with neither of us doing anything except breathing and staring at each other.

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