9. Luca
Fuck this.
I’m fighting a raging hard-on as I stand, glaring down at her. What more do I have to do? Who does she need me to be? “You need to make up your mind,” I growl out and immediately regret my tone. I can’t help it. It’s fucking exhausting being the supportive, loving partner who is uncertain if the love of his life will ever come back. “That, or you need to stop getting in your own damn way,” I add, lowering my voice.
“Exactly how am I doing that?” She jumps to her feet, her blue eyes flashing, her tits rising and falling with every ragged breath. “What, because I won’t let myself do something I know isn’t right?” she adds with steely determination.
“Isn’t right? Look around,” I reply, this time louder, \ her head snaps back, and her brow furrows at the volume of my voice.
I’m fighting a battle with myself to give her time. The not knowing that has me teetering on the edge. If I knew she’d come back to me, I would be more patient. I’d wait forever.
“Look.” I grab a framed photo off the end table and thrust it toward her. “Your parents, pretending they’re holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Look, another one.” This time, it’s a graduation photo with Emilia in the center wearing a cap and gown and her parents standing on either side. “You lived here. This was becoming your home too.”
I shove the photo into her hands, then turn toward the bookshelves. “Look at all of this. Do you think I’m a big fan of the Harry Potter books? Because you sure as hell seem to be.” I run a finger along the spines of the thick books. “What, do you think these belong to me? Then there’s your things in the bathroom. Your clothes in the bedroom! What more do I have to do to prove to you I’m not making this shit up, Emilia?”
She’s always had the power to uncover the best and worst in me, prying up rocks and revealing what’s squirming underneath. It shouldn’t thrill and satisfy me to watch her fade in the wake of my rage, but then I haven’t had much satisfaction lately.
“Stop yelling at me,” she yells back. “You don’t have the right.”
“Yes, I fucking well do,” I shout, weighted with guilt. “Because I have done everything I can to make you feel comfortable, show you this is where you belong, and that we belong together. What is it going to take?”
“I’m so sorry I can’t get my memory back on your goddamn schedule!” Her chin quivers, but she holds her head high. Part of me rejoices at the sight. She’s still in there somewhere. The woman I fell in love with against all odds, even common sense.
What about the part of her that fell in love with me? Is that still there? Will it ever return?
All the old instincts come rushing back. The way things were between us in the beginning. “Why don’t you stop lying to yourself?” I ask, crossing the room one slow, measured step at a time. My hands tighten into fists as I imagine throwing her over my shoulder, carrying her to the bed, and reminding her who she’s dealing with. Her mind might not remember me, but her body does.
She gulps, backing up until her legs hit the sofa. “What point do you think you’re making?” She’s not so feisty now. Damn me to hell. My dick twitches when I identify the fear that’s begun to creep across her face. I thought I was beyond the point where intimidating her turned me on, but I used to think a lot of things that have turned out to be untrue. I believed we were safe and unbreakable, and look where it got me.
“You think I didn’t feel the way your body reacted to me?” I murmur, eyes tethered to her, my pleasure growing with every short breath she takes. Her dread is getting worse by the moment. More than that, she lowers her gaze and folds her arms because she knows I’m right.
She’s too embarrassed to look me in the eye. “Don’t act like you know me,” she whispers fiercely, struggling to hold onto any shred of dignity and self-possession she can muster.
“But I do,” I tell her, advancing slowly like a predator cornering its prey. “That’s the thing. I know you inside out, my love.”
The problem with refusing to look at me is her inability to judge when I’m too close for her to escape. Her sharp gasp rings out when I take hold of her hips and pull her against me in one quick movement.
This is how it’s supposed to be. Fuck being gentle with her, giving her time and space. She belongs to me, and I now know part of her remembers that. We’ve never been able to deny our physical connection. It was part of what brought us together in the first place.
“Stop fighting it,” I growl out, breathing in her sweet, enticing scent. It’s more intense now that her heart is hammering, every flutter of her pulse sending a fresh burst of her essence into the air. I would love nothing more than to close my eyes and soak it in, to take the rest of the day to reacquaint myself with her after holding myself back all this time. “You have no idea how much I want you. There’s no way you don’t want me.”
“I don’t.” It’s a whimper, a whine, something a stubborn child would say when fighting off their bedtime. Pointless, a waste of energy, yet she insists on denying herself what she needs.
Digging my fingers into her supple flesh, I growl again, the animal in me ready to attack. “I have kissed, licked, stroked every inch of your body,” I whisper, my lips no more than a hair’s breadth from her ear. She shivers, and it’s a small victory that pushes me onward. “You’ve done the same to mine. Your body remembers the feeling of having me inside you.”
“Luca,” she breathes out weakly, her teeth grazing her bottom lip. I told her she didn’t have a chance against me, but then she always has to learn the hard way.
“Some things can’t be denied,” I tell her, my hands sliding around until they’re cupping her ass. No matter how hard she bites her lip, there’s no containing a helpless moan. “This is what I should have done in the first place. I should’ve known it would be the quickest way to get through to you because it’s the part of you that can’t be denied. You fought like hell against it, and you lost the fight.” My teeth graze her earlobe, tugging a little before I kiss it softly.
She shudders with a dismayed little groan, not a second before doing what I knew she’d do all along. She turns her face toward mine, seeking my kiss.
And I give it to her, covering her mouth, claiming it again.
Mine.
All fucking mine.
My heart is pounding out of my chest by the time I pick her up, holding her close to me as I carry her across the room. I don’t stop until we reach the bed, where I lower her without breaking our kiss and stretch out on top of her delicate body.
Her fingers have curled into something closer to claws, raking across my shoulders before sliding down my back to tug my shirt from my waistband. My blood is humming, racing. An urgency like I’ve never known overwhelms my every thought and movement. I know what I’ve missed these long, lonely days, and this is the answer to every prayer I never dared voice.
Her touch is the sweetest fire. It singes me, burning. I’ll never heal. I don’t want to. She’s already branded my soul. She may as well do the same to my body. My skin seems to sizzle as her fingers dance up and down my bare back, bunching the shirt around my shoulders. Every deep moan that tumbles from her luscious lips makes my dick twitch in anticipation.
I want to take my time, indulge in everything we’ve been unable to share for too long, but the way her pussy grinds against my rigid length tells me this might be over soon. I need the feeling of her wrapped around me, drawing me deeper, milking me.
“So fucking hot,” I groan out against her skin, cupping her covered tit and rubbing it before she yanks up her sweater to give me access to more of her. This is the Emilia I’ve missed—greedy, hungry, and unafraid to show it.
Burying my face between her tits, I lap at her skin, running my tongue under the cups. “Oh God,” she moans out, rewarding me by grinding harder against my dick.
Her enjoyment only makes me more determined to pleasure her. She’s been through so much, and I want to take her away from it and reintroduce her to everything we’re capable of together. “Yes…” she rasps out when I pull on one of the cups to reveal her taut nipple and flick it with my tongue. Her fingers run through my hair before tugging hard while she moans. “Yes, Luca.”
When she stiffens with no warning, I let out a disbelieving laugh. She already came? We’ve barely done anything.
Yet when I lift my head and look down at her, prepared to tease her a little, the shock printed on her flushed face freezes my blood. “What is it?” I ask, forgetting everything. “Did I hurt you somehow?”
Her eyelids flutter before she releases a shuddering breath. “I saw something… in my head. Oh God, get off me!” She’s twice as desperate now to get away from me as she was to have me all over her. When I don’t move fast enough, she wiggles out from underneath me and scrambles off the bed, putting her clothes in place before wrapping our arms around her trembling body.
“What was it?” I sit up, confused, breathless, and aching like hell. I’m so hard I might break my zipper, but that seems like the last thing on her mind as she starts pacing tight circles beside the bed.
“My eyes were closed just now,” she whispers, staring at the floor. She may as well be talking to herself. “And I saw a dark, dirty room. I was on this filthy little cot, and there were these men… these men who…”
She comes to a dead stop and covers her head with her hands. “And they did this. I was afraid to move.” Her voice rises in pitch until it’s almost a squeak that pierces my chest. “I was afraid they would slice me up.”
Shaking, she turns to me, her eyes bulging. “What the fuck happened to me? Why did you tell me I was attacked?”
She’s slipping through my fingers, pulling further away no matter how tightly I try to hold on. “You were,” I insist. “That’s what you were remembering. Your attack.”
It’s when I stand, prepared to hold her and comfort her, that she backs away. “No. That’s not the full story. Now I get it.” She laughs, high-pitched, almost hysterical. “It wasn’t just that somebody hurt me, and they might want to hurt me again. It didn’t have anything to do with my job, either. It was you,” she snarls out, her teeth bared.
“No!” I insist. “I would never?—”
“Stop! That’s not what I meant. And don’t touch me,” she snaps when I reach out to do just that. “I was… I was abducted, wasn’t I? They held me in that dark room. It wasn’t just like some guys grabbing me and beating me up in an alley to send you a message.” Her voice shakes and rises in pitch as more of it comes back. “Somebody took me out of a house. I was alone. I was fighting… I remember fighting… something about my shoe? Oh, dammit, I don’t know!”
Her hand claws at her temple as she tries to piece it all together. She’s teetering on the edge, about to fall apart. Holding her together is more important than defending myself. “You have to sit down,” I urge. “Breathe. You need to calm down before you give yourself a headache.”
She slaps my hand away when I reach out again and touch her shoulder. “Don’t tell me what I need.” Her lip curls in disgust when, moments ago, she was kissing me and moaning my name. “What else haven’t you told me? What else am I going to have to find out on my own?”
“If you would stop being hysterical for a minute, we could?—”
“What a great idea!” She throws back her head and laughs. “Tell the woman you supposedly love that she’s being hysterical.”
“Shitty choice of words,” I admit, and it’s taking everything I have in me to keep myself in check for her sake. There’s a roaring in my head to go with the pounding in my chest. I don’t need this. Not her anger or outrage, or the blame, especially not the blame, which I’ve heaped on myself all this time.
“What are you going to tell me now?” she demands. “What nice story are you going to give me? What excuse? Maybe you can bring your mother down to soften me this time.”
“Don’t do that.” I shake my head, leveling a stern gaze her way. That was a low blow. “Please don’t bring my mother into this,” I grit out, trying my hardest not to lose my shit again.
She blinks rapidly before swallowing. “No. You’re right. She actually seems like a nice person. Guilia, too,” she adds. “I wish I could say the same for everyone else. But all I get from you is half-truths or no truth at all,” she snaps before her eyes light up. “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to my mom yesterday?”
I can barely keep up with how her thoughts bounce from one to the other. “I didn’t get around to it.”
She throws her hands into the air with another laugh. “Congratulations. You put me in another shitty position. But I’ll tell you right now…” she insists with an edge to her voice, “… you are not coming to dinner to meet my family. Forget it. I’m not playing pretend for anybody.”
“You think it’s that easy?” When she spins on her heel to leave the bedroom, I beat her to the door, blocking the way. “You are not going anywhere alone, so don’t entertain the idea. I’m coming with you, and there will be guards watching us, and that’s final. Because whether you like it or not, there’s still danger out there.”
“Thanks to you,” she reminds me, eyes narrowed, her voice more like a snake’s hiss.
It’s nothing worse than what I’ve told myself countless times, yet much more potent coming from her mouth. “Yes. Thanks to me. And you fucking knew there was danger, and you wanted to be with me, anyway. So what does that say about your high-and-mighty ass?”
Her eyes widen like she’s in pain and something shocked her hard enough to make her rock back on her heels. One painfully silent moment after another passes with neither of us doing anything except breathing and staring at each other.
“I have to get out of here,” she says in a breathless rush, looking around for her shoes, which she shoves her feet into. She’s frantic, shaking, eager to get away from me. The person who loves her more than anyone ever has or will.
I don’t sound loving when I demand, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“On a walk. Don’t worry,” she adds with a bitter laugh over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving my cage.”
“Emilia, please just stay and talk?—”
“I’ve heard enough lies for now. Thanks very much.” She shoves her way past me, and I don’t bother stopping her because if she doesn’t get out of my sight, this will get a lot uglier than it already has. The small bit of sense remaining in my overheated brain knows this is only going to get worse. I’m only making things worse when all I want to do is make everything right between us. She pulls on her coat and leaves without another word, slamming the door hard enough to make the windows rattle.
I reach for the closest thing to me, which happens to be another photo of her parents. The satisfaction of hurling it across the room is short-lived, nothing but a memory by the time the broken frame hits the floor.
Broken the way we are.
I have to wonder if there’s any way to put us back together.