I rise to press my lips with hers.
20
CASSANDRA
Ican’t breathe.
Rocco must think he’s kissing a statue.
Because I can’t bring myself to even blink in fear that this might all be a dream, that I might suddenly wake up somewhere far away with nothing but his name to remember him by.
“Cas,” he whispers, drawing back an inch that feels like a mile. “Cas, kiss me.”
It’s not an order; it’s a plea.
“I only want you.”
His words are like honey.
And the way I kiss him back is sickly sweet.
The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to stop. I know that whatever lies down this path with Rocco Moretti will be dangerous, that I might risk more than a broken heart.
But the way his lips yield to mine shoves such thoughts deep down.
Thisis intoxicating. I can’t get enough of it.
Our mouths glide together, our tongues dancing in a passionate frenzy. I just want more and more and more.
We’ve only shared one kiss before this, and though my thoughts lingered on it every night before I fell asleep, the memory has nothing on the real thing.
“Cas,” he whispers against my mouth, and I taste my own name on his lips.
At some point, my hands tangle in his dark hair, tugging him ever closer.
“Get a fuckin’ room!”
We break apart in alarm as someone passes by, shaking their head.
Right. We’re sitting at a bus stop in the middle of Brooklyn in the early hours of the morning.
As if on cue, a shiver runs down my spine. Rocco had insisted I leave my leather jacket at home.
“Come on,” Rocco murmurs, a little breathless, as he sheds his own jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”
I let him stand me up and guide me back to theCandelabrawith an arm around my shoulders.For one horrible moment, I think he’s about to take us back in. Even just the thought of confronting Danny or Claudio again wipes away all the joy of our kiss.
But he diverts to the parking lot. It’s an underground bunker-like space that I’d never realized existed below theCandelabrauntil Rocco had driven into it earlier that evening.
No other cars are parked there as we enter. Only the low thrum of bass music from the venue above us keeps us company as we walk over to the fancy convertible sports car we arrived in.
I’m still tucked under his arm as we approach. His heavenly scent overwhelms my senses as I try to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
The headlights flash in welcome as Rocco reaches for the door.
If there was a time to clear the air, to get my head on straight about what the hell we are to each other, it would be now before I have to ride home with him, so agonizingly close.
“Rocco, I…”