Page 92 of Rise

Megan shook her head. But she smiled just a little bit more. Alessandro leaned forward so his torso was against her knees, his knees on the floor on either side of her legs. “Ti amo, cara. Ti amo tanto.”

Dammit. Did he have to say it in Italian? It just made the words even more romantic. She gave one brief sob, and Sam growled from above them.

“Mi dispiace, cara,” he went on. “Ti amo, ti amo.”

He kept saying it, his voice low, melting her heart and her hurt and everything except that he knew what he’d done and he was trying to make amends. Megan let out a shaky breath and let him take her into his arms. Her head fell naturally onto his shoulder, and she let her tears soak his coffee-smelling shirt. She probably had coffee on her blouse too.

“Ti amo anch’io,” she whispered. “You shit.”

“I forgot that one,” he said into her hair. “I am a shit.”

She shook again and laughed. Laughed! How was that possible?

“Are you crying?” another voice said above them. Jacqui.

“Me?” Yasmin said, her voice tight. “Of course not. I never cry.” She cleared her throat. “I’m too busy for this. I have to make a phone call. Megan, I’ll talk to you later. Remember, eleven a.m. Sunday for makeup.” Alessandro didn’t move from Megan’s hair as she heard Yasmin’s heels tap up the hallway.

Megan’s heart swooped upward for the first time in two days. Alessandro pulled back, wiped her tears from her face, kissed her wet eyelids, her wet cheeks, her mouth. Megan had never in her life looked so disheveled in public. Her silk blouse was blotched with tears and coffee; her makeup was shot, and her skirt was crumpled from Alessandro leaning on it.

She’d never cared less.

“Well, I haven’t forgiven you,” Sam said. But she was very far away, and Alessandro and Megan understood each other perfectly.

Max brought the car back around. Megan promised Sam she’d call her later, hugged her tight, and sent her back to the hotel.

Megan and Alessandro got into Max’s car. “No hickeys!” Donna yelled. “I’m talking to you, ’Sandro!”

Max closed the door. Megan immediately straddled Alessandro’s thighs, her light summer skirt thankfully making it easy. She didn’t care what Donna said. She had lost time to make up.

His hands went to her ribs and slipped around to her back while she bent over his mouth and kissed him hard, punishing him one more time.

“My blouse smells like coffee,” she said between kisses.

“I am sorry.”

“You’d better take it off, then.”

He groaned and opened his mouth, so Megan let her tongue play with his for a few more seconds before she broke off and began to pull at his shirt buttons. He shifted to help her, but when he reached for her blouse, she slapped his hand. “I changed my mind.” And she crossed her arms and took off her own blouse, loving the way he gazed at her breasts, revealed in their lacy bra, right in front of his face.

“Megan,” he moaned. The car was moving, bumping his hips into hers.

“We fought,” she said against his ear while his hands covered her breasts and began to stroke her nipples through the lace. “That means we can make up. That means we’ll be o-kay!”

The last syllable was a gasp as he ducked his head to take one breast in his mouth. “Si,” he said, bussing her skin with his breath. “Si, cara. We will be okay.”

The car bumped again, and now Megan had more reason to gasp. Her brain had completely given itself over to her loins, which were crushed against his, the minor difficulty of his pants and her underwear teasing her. She wasn’t about to wait for this until they got home.

She reached between them, unzipped his pants, made the arrangements, and lifted herself up and down onto him.

“Gesú!” he yelped, his hands fisting against her hips.

“That’s right,” she growled, rising and lowering again. “You’re all mine, now. All… mine.”

Alessandro dropped his head back; she saw the tension in his neck while his hands opened on her hips and helped her to raise and lower, raise and lower, and he lifted his own hips and bucked and groaned and brought his mouth back to her breasts and bit her nipple lovingly. Megan burst apart, and Alessandro muffled his cry against her chest.

The car, its partition firmly closed, drove their panting, spent, connected bodies home.

♦

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