Page 68 of This Thing of Ours

Her parting words had penetrated the thick haze of his anger a second after he’d felt her heat leave his back. Panic, he quickly discovered, was a stronger emotion than jealousy, and it hadn’t taken his brain long to come to the conclusion Gabriella was a hell of a lot more important than the wanker trying to hit on her.

“I can’t stand the thought of you walking away from me,” he murmured against her lips, easing his hold but not releasing her.

“You need to get a hold on your jealousy. It was cute at first, but it’s getting old, real fast.”

“I know.” And he did. He could sense her coming to the end of her rope, and if he didn’t learn to deal with his newfound emotion, no other man would need to get in his way, he’d manage to screw things up all on his own.

“It’s something you need to get used to. Other men will look, or sometimes even approach me, just like other women will do with you. You’ve got to trust me, just like I have to trust you, or this relationship isn’t going to work. It won’t matter how much I love you. Without trust, that love will die. It will be a slow death, but dead, as you know, is still dead just the same.”

His heartbeat stilled at the wordloveonly to beat double time a second later. He pulled his head away enough to get a clear view of her face. “Love?”

Her face paled right before her cheeks flushed. “I… I… um, meantwhenit turns into love, it will die.”

God, she was fucking adorable. His lips tipped up into a smile, and he slowly shook his head. “I don’t think that’s what you meant at all. I think you love me.”

Her lips pursed so tightly they almost vanished completely.

He held back a laugh. Untangling his fingers from her hair, he cradled her face. “But that’s okay. You know why?”

She gave her head a little shake, so minute, if he hadn’t been paying such close attention he would have missed it.

“Because, cara mia, sei l’amore della mia vita.”

Her eyes softened right before they closed.

“And I promise to do better. Not let my jealousy ruin what we have.” She opened her eyes, and he gave her a smirk. “It’s a learning curve.”

Relief hit him strong when she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He returned the hug, probably squeezing harder than he should but too overcome by emotion to restrain himself.

He gave her one last squeeze and said, “Come on, let’s get out of here and go home.”

They walked hand-in-hand through the noisy arcade and out the main doors to the parking lot.

“Marco?”

He looked over to find Gabriella’s eyes on him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Yeah?”

Her cheeks pinkened before she stammered, “My, um, Italian isn’t always accurate. Just to be one-hundred percent clear, you said, I’m the love of your life, right?”

Marco stopped dead in his tracks, tipped his head back, and laughed. He tugged at their joined hands and pulled her to him, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Yes, streghetta,” he said around a chuckle. “Had I known your Italian was in question, I would have used English. I was trying to make an impact.” He chuckled again. “I should’ve known that wouldn’t work with you.”

She pushed against his chest and gave him a glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, you never do or say what I think you’re going to. You’re unpredictable and keep me on my toes.”

Her eyes narrowed farther. “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.”

He pecked her pouting lips. “It’s a very good thing. Keeps life interesting.”

She finally cracked a smile. “I like interesting.”

“Then let’s go home so I can show you something really interesting.”

She tipped her head at a saucy angle. “Oh, yeah. Like what?”

He dipped his head and whispered, “Piace come succhiare il mio cazzo.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “What the heck does that mean?”

---