Page 31 of Brutal Legacy

He didn’t move. I pressed my hand on that sacred place and counted his heartbeats.

“Just enough — to do this,” I murmured and pushed myself up on my tiptoes, and before I lost my courage, fused my lips to his.

He jerked with surprise. I ran my tongue along the seam of his sealed lips. I had no kissing experience. That was probably pretty obvious. But in movies, they just kissed, and it all seemed to work out.

This was not that.

He didn’t open his lips or move them at all to match mine. He was as still as the grave.

Nerves crowded in, my panic clearing my brain fog and all remnants of the beers I’d had earlier.

I tore my mouth from his and staggered back. He caught me, and I shoved his hands away.

“If you don’t want to kiss me, just tell me so, you don’t need to embarrass me.” My voice was full of hurt and rejection. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me.

“I don’t recall being asked,topolina. If you had, I’d have told you I don’t kiss drunk girls.”

I turned to him. He had his fingers on his lips. Wiping away my touch?

“I’m not drunk,” I protested.

He shrugged. “You look drunk to me.”

“I’m not!” I barely resisted stamping my foot like a toddler.

He chuckled, the bastard, and reached out to take my arm. “If you wake up without a headache tomorrow, then you come and tell me I was wrong,” he said firmly and tugged me toward the road with him.

“Oh, right, and you’ll do what?” I grumbled.

We were at the edge of the road, and Elio pulled me to a stop. He stared down at me and brought a hand to my mouth. I paused, my heart suddenly lurching into a frantic beat. He rubbed his thumb along my bottom lip and then slid his hand into the hair behind my ear, gripping it in a way that tilted my head right back, making my face his tribute.

“I’ll kiss you like you’re meant to be kissed. I’ll kiss you like I’ve wanted to since the moment we first met.”

I stared into his pale eyes. No one had eyes like his. Pale green in the daylight, and at night, they caught the light of the moon and glowed.

I wet my lips, my mouth suddenly drier than a desert. The tug from my scalp where he held my head was delicious. I wanted more.

I lost track of how long we stood like that, lost in each other’s gazes. The only thing that yanked me from that magic was a loud, inelegant snort I was sure hadn’t come from either of us.

I blinked, the spell broken, and twisted my head to the side. Right there, tied to a low branch, was a horse.

I laughed. “You’re right. I must be drunk. I see a horse.”

Elio eased back and stepped toward the animal. “You’re not imagining it. It’s a horse. It’s your ride home.”

“What?” I demanded.

“I couldn’t find any car keys to steal… so horse it was.”

I stared at him. “You came to pick me up… with a horse?”

He grinned at me. “Just call me your knight in shining armor. Now, get up here. You’re in charge. I can’t ride for shit.”

Elio

The village gatheredto celebrate every single saint’s day, and in Southern Italy, that was a whole lot of gatherings. Huge pots of pasta sat on the doorsteps, waiting for the kids to carry to the picnic tables in the village square. Wine was unearthed from basement stores and decanted into glasses, sparking lively debate about grapes and vintages. Meats were roasted and salads tossed. The smell of spicy extra virgin olive oil and garlic frying filled the air as children ran amok and the church bells rang.

That year, I didn’t see any of it. I’d left the feast preparation to sit in the olive grove above town. I had my notebook and pencil. Even though I was destined to live a life of petty crime or manual labor, I had dreams of being a writer. No, not just a writer. A poet.

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