Her auburn hair caught the light, the fairer strands sparking, sending the gold swirls into a raging fire. Her eyes were as stunning as emeralds. Fine bones belied the strength of muscle.
It was the intensity of her deep brown eyebrows and fierce black lashes that seemed to give her an element of danger, though.
She wassensuale.The kind of woman to start wars. And had.
“Sensual” meant more to me than just flesh. There was always a quiet intelligence present in her eyes, a passion for life that couldn't be denied, a fierce determination to her spirit, all reflecting a good heart.
Before her, I had never taken more from a woman than what her body could give.
Until her.
No pretenses.
No excuses.
I’d fallen beyond love.
Never had I craved to learn about a place or explore it for the simple sake of its scenic views. I’d never craved to sleep in late so her body could stay warm next to mine, inhaling the sweet scent of sleep on her like it was air. Taking pleasure in the mess that was her hair, or the way she rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Finding peace in complete silence if she breathed easy next to me.
Not until her.
Mitch had been right. She was my Sunday.
Scarlett’s soft clapping made me snap to attention. “Bravo! Bravo! Bellissimo!”
Mercurio flushed, appreciating her praise.
“This is so…perfect, isn’t it?” She turned to me, her face slightly flushed, her eyes bright and alive, burning. “Are you in love now?”
“It’ll do,” I said, taking a strand of her hair and moving it from her face.
Eyeing me for a moment or two, she finally leaned her head against my shoulder. “Have I ever told you that those three words are among my favorites? Thank you, Brando. Thank you for making me a part of your life. I never lived before…you…us.”
I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Couldn’t. Not right away.
Though she was giving me a compliment, I knew the statement for what it was. Blunt truth. She hadn’t lived much, even though she had lived a life most would admire.
I hadn’t lived either, not until she infiltrated my life and my blood.
Different circumstances, but when it came down to the bones of the situation, we were always stronger together. Her craving became mine and mine hers.
Together, we lived.
I set my lips against her temple. “Tell me more.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking up at me. “Factoids?”
“Yeah.” I grinned. “Factoids. Or factoid. I think we’re almost there, and we’re late enough.”
She pinched me on the thigh, and my grin widened. Under her breath she called me a masochist, smiling, but then she shook her head.
“Let me think.” She bit her lip, free fingers strumming against her cloak. “Oh! In ancient times, Venice was made up of islands, rival islands, and they would meet on the bridges to fight. Fist—that’s what they called the bridge. Violent, bloody fights. People were pushed off into the water, and whoever won reigned supreme. They were able to control that island.”
“You’ve told me that before,” I said, suddenly suspicious.
“Have I?”
“You know you have,” I said. Rarely did she forget. I always thought of her mind as a fathomless steel trap, impeccably organized.
