5. Sly
Time stands still, my heart galloping against my rib cage like a wild stallion set loose for the first time.
Vinnie stares out the window, pretending to be more interested in what’s outside than our conversation, but I know her tells. I know when she wants me to see her, and when she doesn’t.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice unwavering despite the fear settling into my heart.
The rumble of the hospital room”s air conditioning unit stirs as I wait for her to turn, clashing against her silence.
Something about her behavior isn’t settling right within me. It’s so unlike the woman I grew to know, and though we’ve had months between us, a person doesn’t change their core values and personality without reason.
The woman in front of me is not the Vincenza I asked to run away with me.
Alarm bells ring in my head, and I study her as I wait for her to turn to me as I requested. When it’s clear she isn’t going to, I push again. “Vinnie.”
This time, as I say her name, her eyes squeeze shut.
What is going on in my piccola ladra’s mind?
Unease sends a shock wave through my system, a frigid blast akin to that of cold water. My fingers tingle, my entire body fighting a jolt at the upsetting realization that something is extremely off with her.
Finally, Vinnie faces me. I take in her appearance. The slight rosy tint on the apples of her cheeks, the tip of her nose. The faint stain of makeup tracked down her cheeks.
She”s been crying. This entire time she’s refused to look at me, my piccola ladra has been fighting silent demons and weeping quiet tears.
The pain on her face speaks volumes, ricocheting from her heart to mine.
Sadness overpowers the unease and all I can feel is the need to hold her in my arms.
“Come here,” I rasp, pushing down my own emotion.
This time, she doesn’t hesitate and crosses the room to me. As she does, I pull the blanket from my body, holding it open. “Get in.”
Her eyes sweep over me. “You’re hooked up to several machines, Sly. I don’t want to hurt you.”
It’s too late for that, piccola ladra.
I almost say the words out loud. Instead, I say, “You won’t.”
She gives me a brisk nod before toeing off her shoes and climbing into the bed with me. Its plastic base groans from the extra body, but we both ignore it as I cover us with the blanket and press a kiss to the side of her head.
Her body hugs mine, curved tightly into my side. Her hand rests loosely on my bare stomach, head in the crook of my arm.
It feels as natural as breathing. As comforting as laying in the sun on a warm summer day.
“You don’t have to explain,” I murmur, though I wish she would.
Perhaps when I am healed, I will return to New York. It’s clear something is amiss, and if I am in the city, at least I can be nearby if she needs me.
She won’t need you, you fool. She’s about to be a married woman.
But she isn’t married yet, and although I do not condone cheating, the desire to feel close to her in every way possible, one last time, overtakes me—August be damned.
He’s not a man I hold any respect for, anyway.
“What happened?” Vinnie asks, trying to keep a steady voice, but I can hear the unease in it.
Sighing, I know it is time to tell her the truth. Adjusting the blanket around her hips, my eyes catch on the simple gold heart necklace she wears, and I can’t help but to wonder if August gave that to her too. Pushing it from my head, I rest my hands on her thigh and attempt to adjust my upper body so it is easier to look down at her as I speak.
“When I arrived in Ridgewood, I met a man who introduced me to the president of the local motorcycle club.” Vinnie’s eyes widen, and I give her thigh a gentle squeeze. “They are not dangerous, piccola ladra. The Sinners Warlord is a vigilante club. They are passionate about the women and children of Ridgewood, and we work hard to keep them safe. The man who was here earlier—that’s Cain Michaels. The president. And the woman? His love, Rosie.”
At the mention of Rosie’s name, her eyes narrow the smallest amount. Anyone else may not have noticed the slight shift, but I would have been able to spot it a mile away. I can imagine the thoughts raging through her mind, and it sits like a weight in my stomach, knowing I will have to tell her about my relationship with her.
“She seemed protective of you,” Vinnie says hesitantly. “When I came into the room, she watched my every move. Her concern rolled off her in waves.”
“Sì, Vincenza. I will not lie to you, or try to hide my recent past. When you didn’t arrive at our meeting place, I left my heart laying on the gravel path amongst the dirt and the rocks. I boarded a plane and forced myself to leave everything I loved in New York. You chose August, and when I told you I would respect your choice, I meant it.”
Dipping my head for a moment to gather myself, I clear my throat. The words I am about to say taste like bile and betrayal despite me doing nothing wrong. “Rosie is my best friend in Ridgewood. She and I shared a mutual pain. I had just lost you, and she was fighting her own relationship demons. Through each other, we sought comfort, and an arrangement formed. It did nothing to diminish my love for you, but it helped dull the heartache. Once she found her way back to the man she is meant to spend this lifetime with, our relationship ceased immediately—prior to, actually. But I cannot deny that we did have a relationship, no matter how unemotional it may have been.”
Vinnie’s eyes shine with tears, and a few escape from the corners from my admission.
Reaching to her face, I use my thumb to wipe them away. “I love you, Vincenza. Nothing in the world can ever change the way I feel about you, which is why I needed to leave. I needed to give myself the opportunity to heal from the pain of losing you.”
Her eyes drop and she nods. Her voice is quiet as she lets out a deep breath and says, “I understand.”
She doesn’t say anything more, nor does she lift her head to meet my gaze. It makes me feel like there’s more I should say, but I no longer want to speak about my time with Rosie. Instead, I continue on with how I came to be in this hospital bed.
“With the weather warming, The Sinners held a barbecue outside of the bar Rosie owns. We’d recently put a stop to a man who had been drugging and raping women in Ridgewood and neighboring towns.”
Vinnie’s gaze snaps to mine. “I thought you sa?—”
“That it was not dangerous,” I finish for her. “Sì, I know, and typically it is not. But this particular man slipped something into Rosie’s drink, which Cain witnessed. He did not take lightly to that and reacted before any of us could stop him. Not to say the man would not have met the same ending, but it would have been handled differently.”
The way she gazes at me, so intensely listening to my words, makes me stop to stroke the side of her cheek with my knuckles.
“It turns out the man was involved with a neighboring city’s motorcycle club, and unfortunately, unlike the Sinners, that gang is a violent one. They began to target the club, then sought their revenge by retaliating against us the day of our barbeque. I was hit by gunfire when I shoved Rosie out of the way to protect her from being hit.”
“You saved her,” she breathes, giving me a tight-lipped smile as she tries to hold back her tears.
“Sì, piccola ladra, I did. I am lucky, and grateful, to be alive. I escaped with only a tension pneumothorax caused by fragments from the bullet. My collapsed lung should heal within the next week or two. The only true worry is allowing the bullet wound to heal without infection.”
“I don’t know what I would have done if you had died, Sly. Hearing you were shot nearly broke me. I can’t…I can’t…” she sobs through the tears that flow freely down her cheeks.
Grabbing her face, I can no longer hold myself back and coax her to move so I can reach her lips. Kissing her slowly, I convey with my body what I’m unable to with my words. With our mouths connected, all the love I’ve never stopped feeling comes rushing to the surface, unlocked by the simple touch of her lips to mine.
Immediately, they begin their familiar dance. Long strokes of our tongues and nibbles to the lips. The exploration of hands.
I can’t bring myself to console her, to continue whispering words of adoration and declaring my undying love for her, when my subconscious screams at me that she’s still engaged. So I let my actions speak for me.
The kiss begins tender as we allow her tears to slow, but as soon as I can feel her breathing even out, I deepen it. I feel myself grow stiff beneath her again, and with a small moan from her lips, I know she feels it, too.
Desperately, I need to be inside her. The need is carnal and raw—the desire to simply unite our bodies, even if it does not end in release. I just need to feel her.
As I pull back to gaze at her, there’s a look I don’t recognize in her eyes, but also, one I do.
Desire.
“Vinnie,” I breathe, lowering my face to meet hers as she tilts her head upward.
“Please,” she begs, her features coated with sorrow and need.
I don’t ask for clarification, nor do I wait for her to change her mind.
She’s careful not to go near my chest and the bandage that covers it, but her fingers play against my lower abdomen, and my muscles constrict from her tender touch.
From within the loose-fitting pajama pants I am wearing, my length hardens, pushing the fabric upward as it tents it.
Our kiss continues, neither of us pulling away to catch a breath of air. It’s slow, passionate, and full of unspoken words and longing. Regardless of her behavior since her arrival, and our lack of contact over these last several months, it is clear she has missed me as much as I’ve missed her.
It confuses me—the actions of her body differ so drastically from her words. Still, I try to push it from my thoughts and live in the moment with her.
What matters is she’s in my arms—and in my bed—right now. Regardless of how long it may be for.
Unable to maneuver too much due to the pain, I slide my hand from under her body and up into her shirt, stroking the soft skin of her lower back.
As our mouths continue to reacquaint, I find her jeans are stretchy enough for me to push my hand into them and grip her backside. A soft moan floats from her lips to mine, and her hand drifts down to my cock. She palms it through the fabric, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt her touch that my eyes roll back into my head.
“Take off your pants, piccola ladra.” I tug at the waistband of her jeans for emphasis. “I need to feel your skin against mine.”
“Sly,” she groans, but the sound is less a protest and more a blissful approval.
Reaching to the button, I unhook it, then push her zipper down. Carefully, she pushes her jeans from her hips and past her thighs. When they reach her ankles, she sits up to finish removing them, and I hear them drop to the floor.
My thumb hooks through the lace of her panties, and I snap them softly against her skin. “These as well.”
When her eyes meet mine, I can see the hesitation. “You’re injured, Sly. We can’t?—”
It is not lost on me that her hesitation is because of my wound, not her fiànce. “I need to feel you.” My words are practically a growl, my control hanging on by a thread, about to snap.
This woman drives me wild. We’ve spent more time apart than we spent together, yet, now, being back in her presence, it’s like we’ve never missed a day.
“Okay,” Vinnie whispers, pushing the scrap of fabric down her legs. As soon as she kicks them off, my hands are on her hips and I’m pulling her onto my body.
I suck a sharp intake of air between my clenched teeth, fighting through the singe of pain the movement sends through my chest as it stretches my stitches.
Concern floods her features and I nod my head slightly—I am okay.
Allowing me to guide her movements, she kicks a leg over and lowers herself so she’s straddling me. When our bodies are flush together, I can feel how wanton she is—her wetness seeping through the thin fabric of my pajama bottoms.
Vinnie’s fingers curl around my bicep—around the cherry blossoms encircling my skin—and with her other hand she traces the outline of the bandage on my chest with a touch so featherlight I’m not entirely positive she’s actually touching me.
“I hate seeing you like this,” she tells me as she moves her fingers from the edge of the bandage and dusts them down toward my waistband.
“I have endured much worse pain, though perhaps not physically. I will be fine, piccola ladra.”
“It hurts me too,” she says, but before I can question it, her hand palms me through my pants and I am caught off guard by her touch.
“Vinnie,” I groan, and it’s as though she reads my thoughts as she pushes the elastic of my waistband down and frees my length, taking it in her palm.
Bracing on her knees, she aligns us and sinks down until I fill her completely. Her walls clench around me, and simultaneously, our bodies shudder.
Being inside her feels like coming home. It’s a comfort and a privilege. Something that I’ve missed and craved.
I pull her face to me again, resuming our kiss as it was earlier—slow and full of passion. Neither of us moves or begins our lovemaking. Being connected is enough, the contact more fulfilling than any orgasm could be when our hearts were in such a precarious place.
Time passes, but we stay in the moment.
“Can you forgive me?” Vinnie asks some time later once our kisses slow. I’m still hard, fully seated inside her as she straddles my hips, her upper body twisting slightly so her head can lay against my shoulder, opposite of where the bandage is.
“I already have, piccola ladra. My heart is yours to do with as you please, including breaking it. You own it completely. You own me, even if I cannot be with you. I long for things to be different, Vincenza, but I respect your decision and I won’t try to fight it. Just please give me tonight. Allow me to pretend you are still mine.”
“I am still yours,” she whispers, but we both know it’s a lie, even if she wishes it were true. It ignites a frustration deep inside me, one that hurts deeply. A simple glance at the ring on her finger reminds me her words and her actions do not align.
Expelling a deep breath, I say nothing, but she must sense my exasperation. Shifting upright, she leans forward to kiss me, and begins slowly rolling her hips as she presses her palm onto the part of my chest where her head just was.
My hands gravitate to her hips, and I begin helping her move up and down my shaft. She pauses each time I fill her completely, then together we’re moving again. She’s careful not to touch my chest, but the increased movement sends a jolt of pain through me.
Wincing through it, I push the uncomfortable feeling away and open myself up to the pleasure. Her wetness coats me, allowing her to slide easily along my length. Small moans tumble from her lips with every slow movement we make together.
The air is heavy with sentiments—thick with passion, and pleasure…and pain.
Instead of a reunion, it feels like the goodbye we were never given.
An onset of emotions slams into me and I find myself overwhelmed with the urge to cry. It’s a feeling I’m not accustomed to, and it takes me by surprise.
Grabbing her by the face again, I kiss her.
I kiss her like it may be the last time. I kiss her as I thrust my hips upward and move inside her, memorizing the way she tastes and feels. I kiss her like there’s not a ring on her finger, and she’s still mine.
My body screams at me to stop—the movement sending the pain through me like a cataclysmic earthquake, threatening to rip my skin in two. But I ignore it as tears spring from the corners of my eyes and I can’t decipher if they’re from the pain in my heart or in my body.
Wordlessly, I bring my hand between Vinnie’s legs and stroke her clit, rubbing it in precisely the way I know brings her pleasure.
It takes mere seconds before I spot the signs of her body allowing the orgasm to crest. Her body begins to hum in a way that tells me she will detonate soon. Pride blooms in my chest as I watch her face contort, knowing I’m the man unraveling her in the same way she has the power to unravel me.
It’s a beautiful thing to watch her release overtake her body, and as she cries out, she cups her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise.
If we had the time, I would continue to draw the pleasure from her over and over, but this is not the place, nor am I in the condition to keep pushing my body. Instead, I give myself over to the pleasure, allowing my own orgasm to flow from me as I follow her over the blissful edge of release.
Once I’ve stilled inside her, Vinnie leans her forehead against mine as we catch our breath. It takes everything inside me not to tell her I love her. I want to tell her how beautiful she is, and how much she means to me, but the words gather as a lump in my throat and I bite my tongue, refusing to say as much.
No matter how beautiful this moment just was, she isn’t mine.
As though the spell is broken, Vinnie climbs off me as gently as she can, bending to pick up her clothes that are discarded on the floor.
“I should go,” she mutters, not making eye contact with me. “I have an early flight.”
I look across the room at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it is nearly three in the morning. We spent hours lost in each other, and I’m even more surprised to realize a nurse did not disturb us even once.
Concerned about the hour she’s leaving at, I look at the cot across the room that Rosie occupied earlier. “Stay, Vincenza. It is the middle of the night. Get a couple hours of sleep and then catch your flight.”
She buttons her jeans, glancing up at me with a melancholy gaze. “I shouldn’t, Sly. It’ll just make leaving harder.”
I wish you wouldn’t leave at all.
“I understand,” I tell her, forcing myself to keep all emotion from my voice. “I appreciate you coming here.”
She steps closer, reaching for my hand. I allow her to take it, and I bring the back of hers to my lips and kiss it gently.
With my lips still pressed against her skin, I whisper, “Ti auguro di essere felice, anche se non posso essere io a portarti la felicità.” I wish you to be happy, even if I cannot be the one who brings you happiness.
“What did you say?” she asks, her breath hitching, tears shining once again.
Shaking my head, I release her hand and tell her, “Be happy.”
Leaning down, she places a gentle kiss to my lips, righting herself quickly before I have time to react. She gently squeezes my thigh before crossing the room.
As she reaches for the doorknob, I hear her soft words, “You too,” even though her back is to me.
Then she’s gone.
Quiet envelops me. The only sound projecting through the room is that of the machines I’m hooked to. Internally, I hear my own pounding heartbeat.
Seconds pass into minutes and I’m left wondering if perhaps that was all a fever-dream. A medication induced, beautiful conjuring my mind created. I wouldn’t believe it was real if it weren’t for the lingering scent of cherry blossoms and the phantom feel of her skin against mine.
And then suddenly, as though all of my guarded walls have shattered, the emotional pain sets in and I mourn the loss of the woman I love, knowing this time, it is goodbye.