Page 58 of This Thing of Ours

He smacked her ass.

“Hey!

“I’m serious. You’re never to think about him again.”

A few seconds later, she found herself tossed, her back landing on the bed with another whoosh of air exiting her lungs. Marco followed her down, hovering over her. “Now, tell me you’re all mine.”

She giggled. “I’m yours.”

His face grew so close, she felt his breath hit her lips. “That didn’t sound like you meant it.”

His voice was low and gravely, and it sent goose bumps down her arms. How could he even doubt he was it for her?

Reaching up, she brushed her fingers through his hair and held his gaze, all humor fleeing. “You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted.”

He kissed her then, a light brushing of her lips before he demanded more, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Conquering it. Claiming it. Marking it as his.

He ended the kiss, raising his head, studying her. Her eyes soaked him in. He really was handsome. His chiseled features were too masculine to be considered beautiful. As was his squared jaw and Roman nose that was just a little too large but managed to fit his face perfectly. It was a face that captivated. And she was one-hundred percent enthralled.

“Now, I have one more very important question, and then I’m going to kiss you again.”

She liked that idea, so she quickly asked, “What?” thinking they were finally going to get busy.

“What do you want on your pizza?”

Or not.

Chapter Twenty-One

The next morning, Gabby woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. She kicked off the covers, rolled out of bed, and darted to the bathroom, invigorated knowing Marco was up already and not wanting to miss a minute of time with him.

She had felt the same the night before. After pizza and a movie, not wanting their night to end, Gabby had suggested another movie. Marco had been game, but as it turned out, Gabby hadn’t been because she couldn’t remember anything after the opening credits. Having awoken in bed, Gabby realized Marco must have carried her there after she’d fallen asleep on the couch. She looked at the bed on her way out of the bathroom but couldn’t tell whether Marco had joined her in it last night or not.

Hitting the top of the stairs, her eyes were drawn to Marco in the kitchen, busy at the stove. His back to her, and shirtless—dressed in only a pair of slacks—their family crest was on full display. She’d seen his tattoo once before—that fateful day of her eighteenth birthday—but she knew it well, as Nico had the same one on his back.

Gabby took her time navigating the stairs, taking in the scene before her. Marco was cooking, moving eggs around in a pan with a spatula. His slacks were hanging low, in fact, they were barely hanging on to his hips, leading Gabby to think they weren’t buttoned—maybe not even zipped all the way—with the white elastic band of his underwear clearly visible. Also visible were two scars. She knew of the one down low on his right side—a knife wound he’d gotten about five years ago when he’d helped break up a fight in one of Nico’s clubs. The gunshot wound to his left shoulder, she hadn’t known about.

She came up silently behind him, but seemingly not silent enough, for he didn’t so much as flinch when she traced a finger over the mark on his shoulder. “When did this happen?” There had been times in their pasts when she hadn’t seen Marco for months, making it possible for him to have been injured without her knowing.

Marco flicked off the burner before turning and taking her into his arms. “Good morning.” He kissed the top of her head, his breath heating her scalp and warming it.

She wrapped her arms around him, running her hands down the smooth skin on either side of his spine until she encountered the scar at his side. “I know when you got this.” She lightly traced over the three-inch patch of raised skin. “But no one said anything about you getting shot.” And she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or angry about that.

“It happened a long time ago. Back when I was still a soldier.”

Gabby remembered Marco only ever being Nico’s sidekick, so it must have been a very long time ago, indeed. “How did it happen?”

“Wrong place, wrong time, and too green to know any better.”

That hadn’t really answered her question, but she supposed it was the best she would get. She decided to change the subject. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Marco glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I can manage the basics.” He kissed her forehead. “Go take a seat, and I’ll dish this up.”

“I can help.”

“It’s not hard to dish up eggs and bacon, cara mia.”

“I’ll pour us coffee.” She reached into the cupboard above the coffee pot and took down two mugs. She’d learned much about Marco over the past few days, one of which was how he took his coffee.

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