Chapter 18
eighteen
AMANTHA
Iburned as flames engulfed me. Blistering passion erupted between the two of us, and I wasn’t sure if it belonged to me or Val.
Heat flooded my eyelids and fanned throughout my body.
Every nerve ending was ablaze. Val’s mouth slanted over mine as though a buckling dam of restraint had finally broken inside of him.
And then, I was drowning. A whirlpool threatened to pull me into oblivion, swirling me down into its depths.
I kissed Val back as though his lips were my only supply of oxygen, the key to my survival. My own dam of self-control had shattered, the floodgates of my longing sweeping over us both.
A pillow cushioned my head as Val lifted and repositioned me on the bed. Taking advantage of my parted mouth, he deepened the kiss. My soul almost left my body.
I slid my hands onto his face and relished the rough prickle of his stubble as he continued to kiss me. His full, soft lips pressed against mine, again and again, and I hoped he would never stop. I was suddenly aware of how much I wanted this.
Wanted him.
This complex, irritating, delicious man somehow made complete sense. Who would have thought? At first, his harsh criticism and bitter demeanor had been about as attractive as a cactus and just as cuddly. But now?
I could see right through him. It had only ever been a facade. A protective mirage. And for whatever reason, Val had invited me past it. He allowed me to see his scars and hadn’t shied away when I showed him mine.
But shouldn’t this feel terrifying?
I dug deep into my gut, searching for the wrenching fear Ryan had left there. For the sense of abandonment and anxiety that haunted me since seeing him on the crosswalk.
They were nowhere to be found. Instead, an overwhelming sense of protection seemed to radiate from Val’s embrace. I felt safe. Adored.
Val was nothing like Ryan.
This flame between us, the one I had denied for so long—buried for so long—had continued to burn brighter and brighter until I couldn’t ignore it. I was falling for this man, this version of Val that felt entirely new. The one who accepted me, baggage and all.
Armed with that knowledge, I tore down my remaining walls and dove headfirst into the fall.
Val’s predatory kisses continued to devour me. His full lips tugged and pressed into mine until I could focus on nothing else. Val tasted like coffee, his kiss more potent than any amount of caffeine. The effect he had was intoxicating.
The heat from Val’s hand seeped into my Vikings jersey as he gripped my waist. My eyes flew open as his teeth grazed my jawline and down onto my neck. A gasp escaped me, and Val growled in response, continuing in his explorative kisses.
My fingers grasped his shoulders, irritatingly aware that his shirt was still wet with rainwater.
“Ugh,” I breathed between kisses. “You’re. Still. Damp.” I attempted to open the top buttons of his stupidly formal shirt.
“Will. You. Stop. Talking,” Val panted in response. Feigning annoyance at the disruption, he reached behind his neck and pulled his shirt over his head. It landed on the floor.
I was momentarily stunned. My gaze slid over his bare torso, which had been carved either by the gods or a billion sit-ups. His tanned, olive-toned muscles flexed and rippled from his movement. Catching my obvious admiration, a cocky smile tipped the corner of his mouth, fire burning in his eyes.
“Can I help you?” Val aimed a sinister smile down at me, saying the words he used when he caught me checking him out during Stirling’s pottery class a lifetime ago.
“Get over yourself, Russo.”
He devoured my breathy laugh with his kiss.
Our passion eventually dimmed to embers, radiating a slow, intense heat as we each tried to catch our breath.
Val flopped onto his back beside me on the pillow, chest heaving. His glassy eyes rested on the ceiling with a wide smile. I touched my swollen lips with trembling fingers. Adrenaline and astonishment burst out of me in a laugh.
Rolling onto my side, I rested my head on the sleeve of my Vikings jersey. Val’s rugged profile was a feast for the eyes. Impossibly, the man had become even more irresistible.
His vulnerable side attracted me like a moth to a flame—a flame I felt would continue to keep me warm if I let it.
Tentatively, I tiptoed my fingertips up Val’s muscular torso, marveling at the scorching heat of his skin.
Val let out a soft groan. “You don’t even know how crazy that makes me.” His blazing eyes caught mine, roaming over my face just like I was doing to him.
I grinned, suddenly daring to trace a path down his bicep. The mysterious tattoo finally revealed itself as a flourishing script in Italian.
I didn’t know what the words meant, nor was I willing to interrupt this moment by asking one of the million questions bouncing around my brain. Val arrested my wrist, stopping my wandering fingers.
“Just,” he panted, “give me a second.” Rolling over, he mirrored my position and propped his head up with his hand. “You’re trouble, aren’t you.”
Not a question—a statement.
I batted my eyelashes. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” Val continued to catch his breath, a sly grin curving his swollen bottom lip. “Sexy socks, by the way.”
“Shut up, Russo.” I yanked the fluffy socks off, tossing them next to Val’s shirt. My Vikings jersey had twisted around, so I straightened it before lying back down.
Val’s head turned from side to side across my bed, as if just now taking it all in. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything before, but I think you don’t have enough throw pillows, Adams.”
I rolled my eyes with a laugh.
Val’s smile widened into my favorite lopsided one, eye crinkles and all. Our banter dissolved into a delicious, intimate silence.
“That,” I whispered, brushing my fingertips over the ridges lining his eyes.
“What?”
“That smile is my favorite. You should do it more often.” I finally indulged in tracing the curve of Val’s lower lip. It felt firm, though it yielded under my touch.
He caught my hand, kissing my palm and threading his fingers through mine. “Then I’ll make sure to do just that.” His thumb swept circles over my knuckles, leaving tiny trails of sparking electricity.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand,” Val whispered.
“Really?”
“Much longer than I care to admit.” He grinned sheepishly.
“I think it’s been much longer for me, too.”
Val’s expression seemed to darken at my words, a hungry expression flitting over his face.
Without warning, his arm snaked around the small of my back, pinning me against his chest. My heart hammered against his until his mouth crashed over mine.
For the rest of the night, Val kissed me so passionately until I couldn’t remember my own stupid name.
Morning sun streamed through my windows. I cracked one eyelid at a time, blinking my bleary eyes until the room came into focus. I slept curled on top of my comforter, my spare blanket atop my jersey and sweatpants. My bare feet brushed against each other.
Where are my socks?
Gasping, I sat up, the memory of Val’s kisses hitting me like a freight train. I spun around in the bed and found it empty. My socks still lay where I had tossed them, though Val’s shirt was gone.
I wrapped the green knit blanket around the shoulders of my Vikings jersey as I padded throughout the apartment. The bathroom was also vacant. In the kitchenette, I found that our abandoned mugs of stale coffee had been washed, dried, and put back in the cupboard.
Awww, Russo.
The notepad on my refrigerator had also been scrawled with a message.
Amantha,
There are no words deserving enough to describe last night. Sorry I didn’t wake you before I left—you seemed so tired. I can’t wait to see you today.
Val
P.S. You snore like a foghorn.
I groaned with embarrassment even as a wide grin claimed my face. Clutching the notepad to the butterflies in my stomach, I shuffled back to my bed. I used one of my throw pillows to muffle my squeal. Heat trickled down my spine at the memory of it all.
Besides enjoying Val’s expansive kissing skills—which I thoroughly planned to exhaust again at my earliest convenience—I had learned so much more about him last night.
He had told me about his Nonna, his sister, Camilla, his parents, and the small, yellow wallpapered kitchen they grew up in. How Nonna insisted on tailoring all his clothes and would never accept payment. I learned of his bowling league, and how he hadn’t played in a while. He missed it.
As the morning hours drew near, Val had lain beside me on the pillow. My back nestled against his body, a cocoon of muscle and heat. My eyelids kept fluttering closed, safe and sleepy. Val’s arm was draped around me, his tattoo winding across my waist. I traced the length of the elegant script.
“What does it mean?” I asked.
“Ti amerò per sempre,” he whispered, the warmth in the words brushing my neck. “It means, ‘I will love you forever.’ I got it after Stel’s funeral.”
“It’s beautiful.” I traced my fingers along it again, imagining the heartbreak he must have felt as the ink seeped into his skin.
Val responded with a reverent kiss to my cheek. Sleep must have claimed me then, because I couldn’t remember anything after that.
I set the throw pillow down and flopped backward onto my bed. In my thirty-five years of life, I had never felt this way for anyone. With Ryan, I had always tried to impress him. Do more. Be more. Become the woman he deserved, instead of the woman I was.
With Val, I hadn’t cared. At all. He had gotten to know me, completely unfiltered. He had learned of my pain, grief, and insecurities. I could be unabashedly myself with him. And he liked it.
A chiming melody alerted me from my nightstand. I turned off my Monday alarm and checked the time. I had an hour before I’d have to get to the museum for work.
With Val.
A stupidly huge smile broke over my face again.
Crap.