Chapter Thirty-nine
Vida
“I ’ll drive you home,” Ciro says as he steps up next to Matteo and I, getting our attention.
“Sorry?” Matteo asks, looking at him, while Carmela shakes her head with a smile.
“I’ll drive her home,” he replies, turning to look at me.
“Last time you were supposed to drive her, you said never and stormed out,” Matteo comments, making me turn to Ciro with an “oh really?” look.
“Father, I can drive my wife, so let me. Please,” he finally says, making me smile at him.
“No need to beg, she’s your wife. We’ll see you two at home then,” Matteo chuckles. I can tell by the mischief in his eyes that he’s just trying to get under his son’s skin, and as usual, he’s doing a good job at it.
The drive home is quiet, but it’s anything but peaceful. The moment he started the engine, the air between us became thick. Being in a confined space with him again only brings back memories and feelings I thought would wait until we got home, but that’s not the case.
I keep my gaze on the road ahead, feeling my pulse pounding more each time Ciro’s warm gaze caresses my skin. His hands grip the wheel so tightly I worry it might snap under the pressure. His jaw clenches and unclenches like he’s holding back something, and I knew we were having the same problem.
“Did Vladimir leave?” he asks, his voice startling me from my thoughts.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the hem of my dress at the slit. I can still taste his lips and feel his breath on my face. “Yes.”
He nods once, the muscles in his neck tensing as he focuses back on the road.
“Do you like him?” he asks, his voice was calm, but there is something else lingering under the surface.
I swallow hard, confused by the question and why he’s bringing it up.
“Yeah, I do. I think he’s cool,” I say casually, trying to think about my interactions with him before the kiss and not the kiss itself.
I do like him, but not in a sexual way. I like how he makes me feel welcomed and appreciated, but even after we kissed, I am certain I don’t see Vladimir the way I see Ciro, and I doubt Vladimir sees me as more than a friend either.
Ciro’s jaw flexes, and his grip on the wheel tightens, but he doesn’t say another word. The silence returns, heavier this time, it weighing down on both of us.
The city lights fade, and we are now surrounded by trees and bushes, the hum of the engine is the only sound around us. Just as the silence in the car begins to finally feel calmer, the car screeches to a stop.
“Ciro?” I gasp, my hand instinctively gripping the dashboard.
He doesn’t respond. Instead, he pushes his door open and climbs out, slamming it behind him.
What is going on? Was it something I said? The questions swirl around my head as I watch him walk through the car’s headlights.
“Ciro, what are you doing?” I ask, as he comes around to my side and pulls the door open.
“Get out,” he orders, his voice rough and barely controlled.
“Get out? Are you crazy? We’re in the middle of nowhere!” I shoot back, my pulse spiking.
These are the types of places where hitchhikers kill people!
Still, he doesn’t answer, he stretches into the car, reaching across me and unfastening my seatbelt in one swift move before he’s turning me in my seat so my legs are now sticking out of the car, the cool night air brushing against my skin.
“Ciro, what are you doing?” My voice is shaky, a mix of confusion, fear, and something else, something hotter, something that has my breath hitching and the little hairs on my arm standing.
Silence from him still. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, the heat in them burning down into me. They hold something wild, something desperate, something I can almost relate to.
“Fuck! I’m sorry, little chaos,” he says, his voice low and hoarse.
His thumb brushes over my lips ever so gently. His eyes stay glued to them, like they hold him under a spell, and before I can ask why he’s sorry, he shakes his head.
“No. Fuck this! I’m not sorry. I’ve been trying to hold back, but I can’t anymore. I can’t stop thinking about how you taste. You’ve ruined me, little chaos,” he says, his eyes moving back to mine.
“Ciro . . .” I breathe as I freeze, my heart racing. The feeling in between my legs keeps me from thinking clearly, and the way my nipples ache for his attention has me unable to speak.
“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice breaking.
“It’s all I’ve thought about since I had you. I can’t think straight, can’t fucking focus, and I lost a game.” His hand wraps around my neck as he speaks, pulling my head closer to his.
“And I never lose, little chaos. I need you. Right now,” he breathes, his lips now inches away from mine.
Kiss him! My subconscious screams.
Kiss me! It begs.
I stare at him, my shock colliding with the intensity of his words. I can see how his eyes beg for me to give him the go ahead. His gaze burns into mine, like I am the air he needs to breathe to stay alive.
“Ciro, we can’t, it . . .” I whisper, trying to stay sane, but my voice betrays me. My whole body betrays me, it leans towards him ever so slightly, begging him to have me again, to eat me out like he would die if he didn’t. Heck, I might die if he doesn’t and it isn’t just because I’m a horny little slut when it comes to him, it’s him . His desperation. His need.
“We fucking can,” he rasps.
“I’ll go mad if I can’t have you, little chaos.” His hands slide down to my thighs, his fingers gripping tightly as he spreads them apart. “Please let me taste you, baby. Just one taste, I beg you.”
Hearing him beg like this does something to me that no one else has even been able to do before. I want to speak, to pretend to have a working brain, but my words get lost in the way his hands move in between me. His hands tremble slightly as he holds me, and the way his breathing is shaky, like he’s losing every ounce of self-control he’s ever owned, makes my skin burn with need. It drives me mad, and there is no way I will survive if his tongue doesn’t find its way between my thighs.
I nod briefly, giving him the permission he needs before he kneels in front of me, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I realize I have no working brain when this man brings out that primal being from within me.
“Ciro,” I moan, arching my back and gripping his hair. My core feels drenched, and I don’t know if it’s just from his tongue or if I’m just so worked up my wetness is just flowing out of me like a river.
“Little chaos, fuck! You taste divine!” he groans, digging his tongue deeper into me.
“You’re already so wet for me,” he growls, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this, how much I’ve needed this.”
He continues to eat me, his tongue flicking and digging and turning inside me, and my nipples beg for his touch. I have no idea when my fingers find their way into my dress, but they begin to knead the aching peaks, imagining they’re his fingers.
I gasp as his mouth sucks my juices, his tongue pressing against me with a slow, deliberate stroke. The sensation is overwhelming and electric, sending shockwaves through my body. He groans against me, the pleasure and need for him only getting stronger as he licks and sucks, his tongue exploring me like he’s a starved animal on the hunt.
I grip the edge of the seat, my knuckles turning white as I try to hold onto something, anything, while he drives me to the brink of no return. His hands grip my thighs tightly, keeping me spread wide open for him as he devours me.
“Ciro, oh my God . . .” I whimper, my head falling back as a moan escapes my lips.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down. If anything, my reaction seems to make him go harder, eat me more violently with his tongue working me with even more intensity.
“You taste better than the first time, little chaos,” he murmurs against me, his voice rough and uneven.
“How is that even possible?” he asks, now planting kisses on my thighs. There’s wonder in his voice, like he can’t wrap his head around it. “I could stay here all night, baby, making you fall apart over and over.”
I’m trembling now, not just from the work his tongue is doing, but from the words coming out of his mouth. No one, not a single soul, has said things like this to me that make my body burn with pleasure.
“Ciro, please,” I beg, his name spilling out of me in a breathless chant.
Then he stops, raising his head and looking up at me. Half his face is glistening with more of my essence than I ever thought possible!
“Kiss me. Taste how addictive you are, little chaos,” he says, and before I can process what he’s asking, his lips are on mine, owning more than just my body as our mouths work in sync, the taste of me dancing across our tongues.
I practically fly up the stairs, my feet barely touching the ground as Ciro’s words echo in my mind: “I’ll join you shortly, little chaos.” The way he said it had sent a thrill through me that I couldn’t resist.
I smile to myself, biting my lip as the warm and cozy feeling pulls me to my room. I am going to be ready for this. For him. He is going to be the one.
Anticipation courses under my skin as I enter the room and shut the door behind me. The air in here feels different, light and welcoming, like it knows something has changed inside of me. I peel off my dress, tossing it onto the bed, and head straight into the bathroom. The hot water from the shower kisses my skin, washing away every ounce of tiredness and revealing how much desire I have left to share with him.
As I rub soap across my skin, my mind wanders to Ciro, his hands, his mouth, and the way he looked at me, almost like I was the only thing that mattered. My thighs press against each other as the heat between my legs comes back. It is a gentle reminder of how much my body wants him. I smile again, unable to help myself. I’m a total idiot who is filled with a burning desire for her husband; who can blame me?
After a quick shower, I go and find the little box in my wardrobe, and start going through my things. I search for one of the pieces of lingerie Izzy had insisted I buy when we went shopping. I can almost hear her teasing voice now: “You never know when you’ll need to show off that hot body of yours.”
Finally! My fingers graze over the brown satin and lace. I pull out a daring set, holding it up to inspect it, and a smile forms on my lips.
Then I see it. The bracelet.
It’s buried at the bottom of the box, its silver links catching my eye. My breath hitches, and my smile fades. I reach for it slowly, almost as if I’m afraid to touch it.
The air in the room changes, going back to how it felt the first day I walked into it. The excitement and warmth I’d been clinging onto turns into thin air and vanishes, replaced by a cold, void-like ache.
Adam.
The memories hit me like a train crashing into a car. I can hear his laughter, and feel the way he always held me close, like I was the most precious thing in the world. The promises we’d made and the life we were supposed to have flood my mind, making my throat tighten.
I hold onto the bracelet with trembling hands. What am I doing?
How can I stand here, smiling and laughing, craving another man, when Adam had been my everything? He had died because of me, to save me! I can still picture him, his bright eyes that haunt my dreams, and his beautiful smile and his calming voice.
But now, here I am, ready to give myself to Ciro in a way I never fully gave myself to Adam.
Shame roars through me, hot and suffocating. Tears spill over before I can stop them, and I slide to the floor, clutching the bracelet like a lifeline.
I’m sorry, Adam. I’m so sorry. My subconscious says as tears well up in my eyes.
My chest tightens as sobs begin to escape my lips. I hate myself for wanting Ciro, and for the way he makes me feel alive again. I hate that I’ve dared to think I can move on when Adam’s memory should’ve been enough.
God! Why?
I wipe my face, trying to breathe as I reach for the box. But as I lift it, the bracelet slips from my fingers, and the clasp gives way. It hits the floor with a soft, metallic *clink.*
The shattered parts of me break again, and the tears come harder now, unstoppable, as I stare at the broken bracelet. Guilt twists and tightens around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. My hands tremble as I reach for the pieces, crying as my eyes turn blurry with tears.
“Little chaos?” His voice makes me freeze.
I hadn’t even heard the door, but as I look up, there he is. Ciro. His brows are furrowed, his eyes dark and searching as he looks at me.
“What happened?” he asks, coming closer.
I shake my head, my voice caught in my throat.
“Don’t,” I whisper, unable to form the sentence I don’t want to say out loud.
But he doesn’t stop. It’s Ciro of course, he never stops. He bends down in front of me, placing his hands on my arms, gripping them firmly, yet so gently.
“Baby,” he says softly. The word slides off his lips in the most calm and seductive manner. The way his voice makes “baby” sound like a call from God . . . I can’t, I just can’t!
“Talk to me,” he says, his voice low and laced with a hint of worry he’s trying to hide. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t,” I choke out, trying to pull away. His touch makes it hard, as does his smell, the way he looks at me, his freaking suit. I can’t . . .
“Why are you crying?” he asks, his tone sharper now, letting his worry show. “Tell me what’s going on.”
He’s too close. I can still feel the warmth of his body, and the look in his eyes threatens to undo me completely. I push at his chest, harder than I intended, needing space to think.
“Just go, Ciro. Please.” I cry harder, hating that he’s seeing me cry while being oblivious to the fact that I’m crying about another man.
“No,” he says firmly, his grip tightening. “I’m not leaving you like this. Fucking talk to me, little chaos. Did something do this? What is it?”
The frustration in his voice only makes me feel worse. My guilt twists into anger and I can’t even decide what I’m angry at. At myself? At him? At Adam? Or just everything.
“I need to be alone,” I snap, shoving him again. My gaze stays on my hands, not daring to look into his eyes or up at his face to find the hurt I assume it will show.
This time, he lets go, and fuck, I almost don’t want him to. He stares at me with a tightened jaw as his eyes become almost unreadable.
“Fine,” he says, his voice clipped. He stands up slowly, his gaze never leaving mine.
“I’ll leave the door between us open. Come to me, little chaos, please.” And with that, he turns and walks into his room, closing over the door that separates both our rooms, but not clicking it shut.
The moment he’s gone, regret hits me like a punch to the gut. I bury my face in my hands, the broken bracelet still clutched in my palm, and sob harder, knowing that I regret pushing Ciro away more than I feel guilty towards Adam!
Me! I’m angry at me.