My pulse pounded in my ears as I was suddenly filled with red-hot rage for the little boy he once was and the tortured man he'd become. Through gritted teeth, I said, "NO. He's not touching you."
"He is! I can fucking feel it." Pushing back into the wall, he struggled to his feet and his eyes landed on the knife where it had stopped near my blanket. He had it in his hand before I could stop him. His eyes were wild as he pressed the tip into the skin above the waistband of his pants, dragging it across his body and leaving a red line in its wake. He started to unfasten his pants.
"Tristan! Stop!" I lunged for the knife, but he held it up high where I couldn’t reach it.
His eyes landed on my face, then fell to my breasts and down my body. His head tilted to the side and a mixture of anger and sorrow twisted his features. "His touch is on you, too."
My heart stopped. "No. No, it's not. I washed it off. We can wash it off you, too."
But he shook his head. "It doesn't work, Luna. I tried. Every day I try. You won't be able to get it off. Not now that you know what he is. What he did. It's all over you. I saw him through the window. I saw him touching you. Touching you everywhere."
I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry. He was going to slice me open. Cut Gino's touch from my body. Possibly skin me alive. Oh, god. I should lock myself in the bathroom and wait for Enzo and Luca to show up. I should find the key and get the hell out of here. It had to be in his pocket. The right one. He always put it in the right pocket of his pants.
But I couldn't leave him. There'd be nothing left of him by the time they got here. Nothing but bloody strips of skin and raw muscle.
"He's not touching you, Tristan.I'mtouching you." I laid my shaking hands on his chest, slippery with blood, ready to jump out of the way if that knife came down.
A horrific sound tore from his throat as he threw his head back.
"I'M touching you," I shouted over him. "It's me you feel. These aremyhands. My touch. You don't belong to him. I don't belong to him, either. Look at me! Look!"
His head whipped forward as his jaw snapped shut and, if I didn't know better, I'd swear the devil himself was looking back at me. For a moment, I almost lost my nerve as his upper lip lifted and a snarl filled the air between us.
But he didn't jump away. And neither did I.
"It's me," I told him softly through my tears. "It's just me. Luna." Slowly, carefully now, I moved my hands, running them up over his shoulders and down his arms, feeling the texture of his scarsand the raw wounds that would make new ones. "My hands. My touch," I repeated.
He stilled, pure fear shining from his eyes. "No. It's Gino," he whispered. "Gino's hands."
"NO," I insisted. "MY hands. Look. Look!" I continued to run my hands over his hard body.
After a moment, his chin dropped so he could see. His eyes traveled from my hands on his body, up my arms, and finally to my face. "Luna." My name was nothing but a deep rasp.
"Yes," I told him. "It's me. Just me. My touch on your skin." I grew bolder, touching him everywhere I could. He was stiff and still beneath my hands, but he didn't tell me to stop. "I love to touch you."
His eyes closed and his head fell back again, but this time, I saw a flash of relief in his expression. I could see the veins in his throat, his pulse racing. Rising onto my toes, I brushed my lips over them, then my tongue, taking his fear into me.
He moaned, and metal clattered against the floor as he dropped the knife. His hands found my hips and squeezed, and he lifted his head. Our eyes met, and his were filled with tears.
Stepping closer, I kissed a cut near his collarbone, then the one on the left side of his chest just above his nipple, tasting the salty copper of his blood. "My lips," I whispered against his skin.
"Luna." My name was both a prayer and a curse.
Still kissing him, I pulled off the long-sleeved shirt I wore, along with my soft yoga pants, and dropped them both on the floor. I wasn't wearing anything else. My bare breasts brushed his chest,my nipples hardening on contact. "My body," I told him. "It's just me."
"Just you," he repeated on a ragged breath. "My Luna."
"Yes. Just me."
A keening sound rose from his chest as his arms wrapped around my back and he pulled me tight against him. His head fell forward, his nose going into my hair. He inhaled deeply, his lips brushing the top of my head as he said, "My Luna."
"Yes," I told him.
His hand slid down my back to cup my ass, squeezing and holding me still as he rocked his hips against me. My breasts and stomach were wet with his blood, and his other hand was fisted in my hair. He tugged my head back until I exposed my throat to him. His lips were hot and frantic, his teeth sharp, as he kissed and sucked on my neck.
Oh, god. I was so lost in the feel of him.
CHAPTER 16
