Page 70 of Wrath
He stiffened, but kept his eyes on the stove, stirring his coulis.
“I may have been a little rash in my decision to go back. I should have discussed it with you first. I heard what you said about your situation, and… I get it too. It’s hard for you. I don’t want to start a relationship built on distrust.”
Thirty-Two
Wyatt tookhis pot from the heat and focused on Misha. Sitting on the bench, with her legs dangling, she looked picture perfect. Blond ringlets bounced playfully, thick lashes surrounded her blue eyes, and pink pouty lips sucked a round apple. The same lips he’d been dreaming about every night for the past week. He’d tried to stay away from her—but it was useless. His attraction hadn’t dimmed since the first moment they’d met. If anything, it was stronger.
Every night, he’d gone to sleep without her by his side, and the temptation of his sin had seeped in until it stewed his insides. It built in his blood, making him toss and turn, until by nine the next morning, he’d been craving her fun, light-hearted attitude and calming aura. But every time her presence washed over him, dampening the sensation of wrath, every other sense in his body was free to feel more. So when she said no—that she still intended to go back to the club—he knew that losing her would be the hardest thing he’d ever face.
When he had awoken this morning, he’d realized he was already losing her, and it was his fault.
“So… what made you change your mind?” he asked, echoing her earlier question to him. His outwardly steady voice belied the inside voice, screamingthank fuck for that.
She shrugged. “I realized that maybe I was a little freaked out by us. I have some pretty intense feelings for you, Wyatt. Feelings I’ve never had about anyone else, and it scares me.”
“Why does it scare you?” he asked gruffly and then pulled out two plates, trying not to let it show how much he enjoyed hearing about her intense feelings for him. If he acted casual, carried on with a menial task, maybe she would continue.
When she spoke, her voice held a note of strain. “When Mama died, it was hard. I was pretty young at the time, and I still remember sitting at the hospital with Ciocia and little Roksana, waiting to meet our new baby brother. Even Babcia and Dziadzio were there.”
While she spoke, he dished up a stack of pancakes onto each plate, then drizzled the coulis.
“When Tata came out holding Alek in his arms, he had this look on his face. It was pure devastation. His eyes were puffy. There were tear tracks down his cheeks. He could barely hold on to the baby with his trembling arms, and then he just handed the little bundle to me. He told me mama went to heaven and then walked out.”
“I’m sorry.” Wyatt handed Misha some strawberries to hull. When their gazes collided, sorrow was all he could see.
“He didn’t hand Alek to Ciocia. He handed him to me, a child.” She glanced down at her strawberry, turning it over in her fingers. “He was such a quiet baby. So peaceful. It took us months to learn he couldn’t speak or hear. Tata was never the same after Mama’s passing, and I wanted to make sure Alek never felt that lack of love. After that, I spent my time trying to fill my mother’s shoes. I didn’t go to my prom. I never went on dates. I worked in the restaurant and took Alek to his doctor appointments, and Roksana to ballet lessons. I helped them with homework. I was their mother.” She sighed and took a bite of the strawberry she was supposed to hull, chewed it over for a bit. “When Roksana finished high school and went to college, I realized I’d spent my entire life looking after them. There she was, getting a college education, and I had nothing. I was resentful. I moved out, started my own business, focused on my happiness and didn’t look back. Well, I didn’t until the attacks on the restaurant started, and since then, it’s been an avalanche of bad karma. I feel like it’s all because I left. All because, instead of sticking it out with my family, I was selfish.”
Wyatt’s heart ached for her, and he couldn’t resist lifting his hand to cup her face, thumb brushing across her cheek.
She leaned into his touch, brows puckering. “I don’t want your pity, Wyatt. Like you did earlier, I’m saying this so you know where I’m coming from. Losing someone you love doesn’t just affect the partner, but the children, parents, aunts, uncles. It has a knock-on effect. So, this”—she waved between them, and pulled away from his touch—“whatever it is, is a big risk. Not only am I afraid of losing you, but… I’m afraid of making it work.”
“Of making it work?”
“Yeah, because it’s hard. You give so much of yourself to another person—other people if there’s a family, like in my experience. It’s harder than anything I’ve ever done before and if I fail at it with you… what will be left of me?”
They were silent for a moment, but Wyatt couldn’t help the question brimming on his tongue. “Do you? Want to make it work, I mean?”
In answer, she captured his mouth in a needy kiss that left him panting with ragged breaths. Every emotion she felt came through that kiss, and when they broke apart, the hunger in her eyes left him no doubt.
“I can’t help myself when I’m around you, Wyatt,” she murmured and tugged on his shirt. “I’m selfish. I want this all for myself. And I’m afraid what knock-on effect that will have. This past week away from you was a hell I never knew existed.”
“I know. I hated it too.”
She pulled his lips to hers, this time teasing him with little licks and nips that sent pleasure shooting straight down his spine. He hardened instantly. A sound caught between a growl and a moan came out of him, and she sighed in delight.
“Let’s not separate again,” she mumbled into his mouth.
“I agree. Move in with me. Now, don’t freak out,” he said with a hint of humor lacing his tone. “It’s not like we’re getting married.”
She raised a cocky eyebrow. “I see what you’re doing there. Using my own words against me.”
He shrugged coyly.
“Okay.” Her lopsided grin melted his heart. “I’ll stay with you. If only for the gourmet breakfasts, you’ll cook me.”
“And lunch.” He pecked her on the lips. “And dinner.”
“Oh, now you’re talking dirty.”
