Page 26 of The Don

I whimper, and he leans to the side so we can kiss briefly, just his lips against mine before my tongue snakes out to taste him. He opens his mouth to kiss me deeper and I think I have him – that I’ve won – but then he backs away, leaving me panting with need.

“Cruel.”

“You are not the first person to call me that either,” he says, massaging the lotion into my stomach. We’re eye to eye now, almost pressed front to front. His hands are moving toward my breasts. My nipples are so hard they hurt. “But usually, when someone calls me cruel, the circumstances are very different.”

“They better be,” I say in an unexpectedly feral voice.

Salvatore’s face lights up. “What will you do while I’m away, bella?”

His fingers are caressing the delicate skin under my breasts, but they’ve stopped moving up. He’s waiting for an answer, teasing it out of me.

“I need to finish doing my hair.”

“How long will it take?”

That question wipes the smile from my face, and I stiffen in his arms. Salvatore’s eyes squint as he focuses on the change in my mood.

When Steve and I first moved in together, he used to frown at me every wash day, huffing out annoyed breaths when I queued up the collection of podcasts I’d saved for my one day off when I could detangle, wash, deep condition, and twist my hair. And because it was my one day off, I’d take a bit of extra time to exfoliate my entire body and hang out in a sheet mask while I painted my nails and toes. Steve complained that I ignored him the entire day and then every week after that. He pouted and threw silent tantrum after silent tantrum until, eventually, I gave up. I lived in braids, and when I needed to take them down and wash my hair, I decamped to Zoe’s or Zahra’s apartments for a good wash and relaxation day. I called it a Girls’ Day, but in hindsight, it was really just my pathetic attempts to keep Steve happy at my own expense.

For months, I’d been tossing and turning on that terrible couch, wondering why I hadn’t broken up with him earlier. The autopsy of my relationship was a terrible thing to confront. So many red flags I didn’t just see but planted in the ground myself and still ignored.

“Bella?” Salvatore says gently, his voice pulling me back into the moment, his fingers caressing my ribs.

“I won’t take long,” I say warily.

Salvatore’s jaw tics in annoyance. The tips of his fingers press against my chest.

My breath hitches, and I squeak as his palms finally cover my breasts. All the tension of remembering Steve flows out of me.

Salvatore begins to roll and pinch my nipples between his fingers.

“Oh, God,” I breathe.

Salvatore’s mouth covers mine. He licks at my lips, asking me to let his tongue inside.

I tighten my arms around his waist and pull him closer, opening for him happily.

Instead of kissing me, he whispers into my mouth, still playing with my nipples while I squirm against him. “Let him go, bella,” he rasps in a soft plea.

The muscles in my back tighten as his voice and words and touch hit me all at once. I move my hands to the sides of his head. “I don’t want him. I haven’t wanted anyone else since the day I met you.” I look him in the eyes as I say the words I’ve been confronting for months, holding them deep inside of myself.

His eyes widen and soften, and then he kisses me until I’m panting, rubbing my legs together and wet enough to leak down my inner thighs.

Salvatore pulls away, and I whimper again. “Wait.”

I feel the ghost of his smile against my mouth briefly before he steps back, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking at me again. “Perfetto,” he says.

I shiver. I was so goddamn close to coming. “Salvatore.” It’s my turn to beg.

He pulls a cell phone from his right pocket. He places it on the bathroom sink. “For you. There are two numbers saved on it.”

I blink in a horny haze for a few seconds before I put two and two together. “Giulio and Alfonso?”

Salvatore nods, a proud smile on his face. “If you ever need anything and I’m…not here, you call them.”

“You said you wouldn’t be long.”

He looks at me with the saddest eyes I’ve ever seen, bleaker than the day we met. I get what he’s not saying faster this time. Nothing is guaranteed in his life. Nothing is safe. Not him, and for as long as I’m with him, certainly not me.

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