“If it’s not—” I kiss the soft skin below her ear, then bite down hard. She sucks in a breath through her teeth and tilts her head, giving me better access as I clamp down and mark her skin.
My hands roam lower, tracing the soft crease where her thigh meets her stomach. She shivers again, goosebumps rising under my fingertips.
“I might need to change up my strategy. You like the pain that comes with punishments too much. Maybe I’ll do the opposite instead.”
The spoon stops moving in the bowl, as she looks over her shoulder at me, eyes wide. “Opposite?” She asks, then immediately claps her hand over her mouth, realizing she spoke without permission.
I fucking love it.
“The opposite.” I pull my hands away and step back, heading toward the couch, whistling softly between my teeth. When I drop onto the cushions, I catch her pouting, actually fucking pouting, staring at me with those big accusing brown eyes.
“If it helps,” I offer casually, “I can go outside and smoke a cigarette.”
Her scowl deepens, and I laugh out loud. “You don’t want me to go outside or you don’t want me to smoke?”
She narrows her eyes at me. Fuck, she’s adorable. I can tell it’s killing her not to talk.
“You can answer.”
“Neither.” The word bursts out. “I don’t want you to smoke ever again. And…” Her voice drops as she returns her attention to the bowl, stirring again. “I don’t want you to leave. Yet.”
My stomach clenches.Yet. I realize with that one word, with how she says it and the way she won’t meet my gaze, that I’m going to hurt her when I walk way. Even if she’s gathering intel for her father, she’s attached to me. Whatever fucked up feelings I’ve been having since this whole thing started, I’m not alone.
All the guilt of the day catches up to me and I eye her steadily. Even though she’s my enemy in the real world, in the little bubble we’ve built, she is all in for me. And I need to protect her.
She puts the finished cannoli filling into the refrigerator and stands, waiting.
“Come here.”
She starts to drop to her knees, and I stop her. “No. Just… come here. Please.”
She approaches slowly, a calm smile on her face, the one I’m starting to recognize as a shield she uses to hide her real feelings.
“I can go stay somewhere else,” I say. “If it makes you uncomfortable having me here.”
She tilts her head, brow furrowing.
“Speak freely.” As much as I love her obedience, I need to know what she’s actually thinking right now.
“Are you uncomfortable?” she asks carefully.
I am. But that’s not the fucking point.
“I don’t want you to think I’m going to change my mind about having a relationship,” I say, needing her to understand. “I’m not going to suddenly want to be your boyfriend or husband.”
“I don’t,” she says simply.
“It just seems like you might be getting attached—”
“Vincenzo, we’ve had this discussion. Do you really want to have it again?”
No, I really fucking don’t.
“If it’s getting to be too much, I can find another place to stay.”
“If that’s what you want to do.” Her voice is diplomatic. “But I’m not asking you to leave. I like having you here. I like what we do.”
I nod. Silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy.
