Page 20 of Run

Six

Giovanna

“You awake, Gia?”

Vincent’s voice curled out of his throat into the dark room.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

I was currently in Vincent’s arms, with my face buried against his chest. I knew he knew I was awake, but I also knew what his question signaled.

His question was a sign like it had always been. It was his way of telling me that these moments, when it was just the two of us together without the outside world interfering, were over.

They never lasted. I knew they couldn’t. Yet I regretted the loss nonetheless. Missed the time I had just shared with him already. Knew that if I were smart, we wouldn’t have shared that time in the first place.

Vincent was deadly to my equilibrium, made it impossible for me to think about myself, or think about anything but being with him, so I should stay away.

But after those moments in his arms, I knew that the only thing more intolerable than staying with him now, talking about whatever had brought him here, was leaving him.

I lingered for a moment, enjoying the feel of his body against mine, taking the comfort that being with him would always bring. My eyes drifted shut of their own volition as I lay there in the cage of Vincent’s arms, happy, relieved, to be there again. I never felt trapped with him, never worried. Still didn’t now, even with all the time that had passed. How much had I craved this feeling, craved him over the years? There was no way to quantify that, and I decided I wouldn’t waste time trying to. Instead I’d just be here with him for as long as I could.

A moment later, I sighed because I knew those moments were over now. I’d missed them, but some part of me wasn’t surprised. Those moments of connection with Vincent were always short-lived, and as much as I treasured them, I’d learned not to expect them to last.

My eyes were still closed, but I could sense the change in him, knew that the passion aside, when I opened my eyes, Vincent, my lover, my husband, would be gone, and Vincent, Santo Carmelli’s enforcer would be in his place. And I knew again, just as I had known all those years ago, that if I’d waited, I never would have found the strength to go.

So I stayed still, lingered for one second longer, two, and then I breathed deep and opened my eyes to face reality.

His dark eyes glittered, and before I could stop myself, I brushed the stray lock of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead away from his face.

I’d done the same thing a thousand times before, but I quickly realized my error as he watched me, his expression telling me he hadn’t missed the easy intimacy between us, something of a depth that even went beyond the intense lovemaking we’d just shared.

I sat up then but made sure to keep the sheet around my body, suddenly shy about my nudity. I wasn’t sure why. I sighed, admitted the truth to myself. Actually I was completely sure why. Being in Vincent’s presence made me vulnerable as it was, something that the way I’d responded to him, held him so greedily, so needfully made undeniable. Letting him see my naked body would only compound that. I needed some boundary against him, some shield to protect me, and the flimsy hotel sheet and bartender’s clothes were the best I was going to find.

I didn’t look at him as I dressed, but when fully clothed, I turned to face him.

I shouldn’t have wasted the time to get dressed.

My halter top and miniskirt gave me no protection at all, did nothing to keep me from feeling exposed. But with the way his dark eyes glittered, studying me, staring into me, I didn’t think a full suit of armor would have helped me.

Vincent lay back, one strong arm propped behind his head. I kept my eyes on his face, but from my peripheral vision, I could see the strong planes of his chest and flat stomach, the way his soft cock nestled against his strong thigh. My body clenched, heated, as I thought of what it had been like to touch him.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” I snapped.

I went quiet quickly, but the dark smirk on Vincent’s face left no doubt that he’d heard my impatience and knew its source.

“Why? Is there something wrong with being naked in front of my wife?”

I looked down then, his reference to his nakedness seeming to draw my eye toward it, but I quickly recovered, met his eyes again and dared not look lower. Couldn’t risk it. There was no way to deny my desire for Vincent, my love for him, but looking at his body made this moment feel even more real, made it almost normal, something I couldn’t let myself get used to.

“Don’t call me that, Vincent,” I said, putting as much venom into my voice as I could, belatedly remembering that Vincent knew me so well that he would know the venom was only a cover for the deep longing that his words stirred.

He shrugged, his muscles flexing with easy strength. “Why not, Giovanna? You are my wife.”

“That didn’t matter before,” I said.

From the darkening expression on his face, I knew my words, the accusation in them, had cut deep.

It wasn’t fair of me to say that. If nothing else, Vincent had loved me, and told me many times I was the only person who mattered to him. Throwing those words back at him, denying their truth, the truth of what his vows had meant was a betrayal of our love, one that hurt me as deeply as I had intended to hurt him.

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