“You started this in me.” His hand slid between my breasts up to my neck and then to my mouth, his thumb tugging on my bottom lip. I went to bite him and he let me. I could taste the salt from my skin on his fingers. “You set me on fire, and I've been burning ever since…baciami amore, per favore.”
He lifted up on his hands, palms down, strong arms stretched to keep us steady, our bodies still one. My hands came to his neck, moving up into his hair, and our mouths connected, tongues swirling—he kissed me, as I had asked him to.
Baciami. What a beautiful word.
“You feel so good inside of me.” I moaned against his mouth. “So, so good.” If everyone had something that could make him or her go mad in this life, Brando Fausti was that element to me.
He pushed up with his hips, so deep inside that my mouth parted, a breathlessahescaping from my lips, and my head tilted back, hair dancing along my lower back.
“More, Scarlett.” His lips ventured further down, his tongue on my nipples. Every so often he would bite. He never caused me pain, but it was enough to send a shock between my thighs and to make his mark on my skin. I came forward, wanting more, more, more.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Oh, God,yes.” His movements made me react harder and faster, and I took all of him inside of me, almost splitting me in two.
I didn’t realize what I had said until his mouth stilled, his body tensed, and our eyes met.
“I do,” I barely got out. “I want to have your baby.”
He nodded once, and then his body reacted, even more fervent than before. Those six words seemed to have an effect on us both.
When the tension became too much and the explosion imminent, I begged him to fall with me, and he did. I screamed out and he made a guttural noise in his throat. He collapsed onto the floor pillow as though it was a cloud in the sky, taking me with him.
He pulled me closer, my head over his drumming heart, my leg over his—we were stuck together from perspiration and the cool flow of air. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat, his fingertips stroking my back. “You’ve attacked me before,” he said, fingers roaming even lower, his hand cupping my behind. “I felt something different this time, Ballerina Girl. Tell me.”
“Felt what?” I barely got out. My tongue darted out to roll over my lips—salty. I thirsted for water.
He pinched me on my behind and I squirmed.
“It’s nothing, Brando. I—wanted you.”
“Apparently.”
“Stop,” I said. “Stop making this out to be something that it’s not.” But in all truth, he was right. I wanted him with desperation close to madness. When I saw him undressing, there was no conscious thought exceptbe with him.
He might not have shared my peculiar nature, but he had a sense and a sensor when it came to me—one alerted him of my feelings and the other my whereabouts.
He sighed. “I’m going to take care of you.” His voice came out low, soft. His eyes were turned to the ceiling, a thoughtful look overcoming his face. A thin rivulet of sweat ran down his temple, collecting on the pillow. “If it’s in my power, no one will ever hurt you.”
“I know,” I whispered, kissing the side of his mouth. I loved to set my lips there to feel his next to mine.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ll ever want.”
I kissed him even harder. “I know that too,mio angelo. You were made for me.”
“You were made for me,” he said, squeezing me even closer to him. “Maybe that’s why I’m such a monster. I have to be to keep you safe.”
“How can—”
“I know who I am, Scarlett.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the motion. “You are the good in me. My saving grace. I’ve always known.”
“That’s not true,” I said, using my fingertip to trace the lines of his face. “You’ve always given me your love, and only good men have the ability to love, Brando.”
“Out of all the things I’ve done in my life, I can say with certainty that the best thing I’ve ever done is love you. Out of everything I’m good at, I’m the best at loving you. End of story.”
I went to respond, but instead, he flipped me over on my back with a quickness that took me by surprise. A whimper escaped my mouth in response. His strength was like a surge, a long dormant volcano erupting all of a sudden. He rose above me, placing his hips between my thighs, looking down at me like a king over his queen.
“Enough talking,” he said, his eyes turning to molten lava. “You started this in me. Now I’ll be on top.”
* * *
