Page 151 of Restless Hawke
“No.”
Damon spreads out his hands with a tight smile, but his eyes remain cold, detached. A dangerous look from a man like him. He may have come knowing what Allegra did, but deep down, he thought he stood a chance of convincing her to come back to him. “As I assumed.”
He bends down and kisses her on each cheek again, which seems to startle her back in her seat. “Goodbye, Allegra.Tutto ciò che ho sempre fatto è stato amarti.”
* * *
ALLEGRA
All I’ve ever done islove you.
His parting words won’t seem to stop repeating in my head.
He never says anything without thinking precisely about how it will affect the listener. And they definitely hit their mark with me. He knew exactly what he was saying and how it would affect me long after he walked away from that table.
For so long after I went to live with him, I had a hard time believing he could love me.
How, when he didn’t even know me?
Yet, time and again, he proved to me that I was the most important thing in his life. He demonstrated that all he wanted was what was best for me, which is precisely why he used those words today, to try to get under my skin, to try to get me to cave and come back to him.
And I hate to admit that for a split second, it almost worked.
I almost ran after him to throw my arms around him and tell him I love him, but it wouldn’t have done any good because where I really wanted to be is where I am right now, in Coen’s arms, cocooned in his strength with his heart beating under my ear and his arms wrapped around me tightly.
He shifts slightly, burying his face in my hair. “Are you awake?”
I nod.
“What’s wrong?”
His voice, still gravelly with sleep, rolls through me, and it doesn’t take much to ignite my need for him, even though we’ve already spent hours wrapped up in each other.
I shake my head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…”
“Overthinking things again?”
Should I love or hate that he knows me so well already?
I nod, trying to bury my face against his neck, trying to hide how embarrassed I am for still feeling this way about a man who did so many horrible things to Coen and his family.
Coen slides his hand under my chin, tilts my face up, and silences all the noise in my head with a single kiss.
Too bad it only lasts a brief moment before he pulls away, brushing a stray hair back from my face.
He gives me a sad smile. “It’s hard to turn it off, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“When you love somebody…it’s hard to turn it off, even if you want to.”
The depth and sincerity of his words can only come from someone who has suffered it himself.
My chest aches. “Why do you sound like you’re speaking from personal experience?”
He narrows his gaze, his hand sliding back to cup my nape. “Do you really have to ask me that?”
Energy crackles between us, something far more powerful than the mere sexual attraction we’ve always seemed to have in spades. His thumb brushes reverently across my cheek, and he tilts his head slightly, like he’s waiting for me to process what he’s said.
