Page 32 of Finding Love

“You mean the way I admire you every day?” I ask.

She turns to me as I approach, smirking over her shoulder. Her blue eyes sparkle like the rippling water beyond the windows when she asks, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” I ask as I unbutton my coat, draping it across the back of the sofa on my way across the room.

She follows suit, leaving her coat on a chair near the window. Her white sweater glows in the abundant sunshine pouring in, and between it and her golden locks, she could easily be an angel. “You turn the most casual observation into a chance to compliment me.”

“It’s not so hard to do when there’s so much to compliment,” I point out, brushing aside the hair closest to her neck so my lips can touch her soft skin. It might be sacrilege, touching this precious angel. I am not a holy man. I’ve done terrible things and will do so in the future. I don’t deserve this.

Yet I can’t resist, especially when she giggles and wriggles against me so temptingly. “You are a smooth talker,” she whispers as I continue teasing us both. I can’t help it.

“You don’t seem to mind.” With my arms around her waist, I pull her against me so she can feel the erection stirring in my pants.

“Why don’t you ask the question I know is on your mind?” She’s not giggling or squirming anymore when she pulls back to look me in the eye. Her gaze has an almost weary awareness as it travels over my face.

“What do you think that is?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face to disguise the uncertainty still bubbling in my gut. Is she going to suddenly freak out? Was this the right decision? I can’t distract her with sex for the next thirty-six hours, no matter how much I’d like to.

This was going to come up eventually.

“Don’t bullshit me,” she whispers, both loving and defiant. “You want to know if I remember the attack.”

How can she talk about it so casually? She’s so matter-of-fact that I can only study her closely at first, wondering if she’s putting on a brave face for my sake. Then again, what am I worrying about? This is Emilia, my Emilia, and while I can’t go for very long without needing to touch her, that’s not what lies at the heart of us. She is not only the hottest but also the most desirable woman I’ve ever set eyes on. She’s brave, tough, and made for me.

That doesn’t make me want to protect her any less. If anything, it heightens my protective instincts. I want to protect her from the memories. I want to spare her even a moment’s pain.

Her penetrating stare won’t let me shrug off the subject. “Do you remember?” I venture, stroking her cheek with my thumb while my eyes move over her face, searching for any sign of emotion.

She slowly shakes her head, her brow furrowed like she’s thinking hard. “I do have these little flashes of memory,” she explains, looking over my shoulder, taking in our surroundings. “There’s a pool past the kitchen, isn’t there?”

“A pool we swam naked in,” I confirm with a grin. “Before doing other things.” It’s amazing that my heart can beat, and I can breathe. I get the pleasure of watching a miracle unfold every time she brings up another scrap of the past.

“I remember being happy here.” She’s radiant when she smiles, standing on her tiptoes and brushing her lips against mine. How is it that every kiss is still as exciting as the first time? It seems like the thrill has to wear off eventually, right? But here I am, already lost in her, with everything else falling away so I can concentrate on the feel of her body and her soft sighs as I kiss her slowly, deliberately, like a man with nowhere to be and nothing better to do.

“Remember this?” I ask between kisses as I pull her down along with me until we’re on our knees in front of the fireplace. It’s cold now, dark, but the heat between our bodies is more than enough.

“I’m not sure.” She wears a knowing grin when she pulls back long enough to lift her sweater over her head. “You’ll have to remind me.”

14

EMILIA

It seems strange, feeling sad after waking up to a brilliantly sunshiny morning, lying in what has to be the most comfortable bed imaginable.

We’re going home tonight. The clock is ticking. I wish I could always be like this, just the two of us, without any family drama or danger hanging overhead. Things are so much simpler when we are alone together.

The sunshine streaming in through the French doors isn’t enough to wake Luca, sprawled out on his back with his face turned away from the glass, one arm thrown over his head. This is not the first time I’ve woken up by his side, so it doesn’t seem right that the sight of him takes my breath away and makes me feel all warm and needy, deep in my core. No matter how many times I see him like this, I can’t get used to it. The finely chiseled abs, the thick shoulders, and the bulging biceps. I want to trace the letters inked across his chest just to test the firmness of the muscle underneath, but it’s more important to let him sleep undisturbed.

I’m starting to understand how I fell for him in the first place. He's a different person when he isn’t acting all growly, possessive, and obnoxious. When he lets the mask drop and allows me to see his humanity, I like who I see—someone who’s thoughtful and determined to give me everything I want. He’s intelligent, too, and more than once, it's struck me as almost sad that all that intelligence is wasted on his family business. He could be something on his own if he wanted, but I don’t think it would be possible for him to break away. Given the chance, I don’t think he’d want to, either.

I can’t look at his life through my eyes and expect him to see things the way I do when we were raised in two different worlds. Deep down, when I listen to the voice in my gut, ignoring the noise around us, I sense goodness in him. Sure, there are moments when the not-so-good and the downright ugly outweighs it, but at his core, he’s decent. He loves his family, adores his mother and sister, and practically worships his father. He would do anything to protect the people he loves.

So what if I don’t agree with the methods?

I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. I know exactly what I’m doing as I lie here cocooned in blankets so soft, it’s unreal. The entire room is glowing the way Luca’s skin does in the morning light, and I have no doubt that’s coloring my thoughts, along with the persistent throbbing between my legs after spending most of yesterday going crazy on each other. Like we’re making up for lost time, which I guess we are.

I’m rationalizing my feelings, letting myself fall for him again. Maybe it’s inevitable, the way he likes to describe it. Like we’re meant to be, a force of nature, something there’s no denying. It would be like trying to defy gravity. Could it really be that simple?

He mutters something in his sleep, shifting a little, and the blanket draped over his midsection slides further down over his rippling muscles. His enticing happy trail leads my eyes downward, and it’s all I can do not to lick my lips. This is not me. I don’t lust like this.

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