Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
“ H ere we are again. Same old argument, same old excuses. When are you going to grow up, Giovanni?” His father’s booming voice ricocheted off the kitchen walls.
“It takes time. I’m building a brand.”
Paulie threw up his hands. “You need money. Sometimes, people have to choose practicality over passion.”
“I’m not you!” Giovanni snapped. “Mom, tell him to get off me about the damn lumberyard.”
But this time his mother kept quiet.
“You could have taken over the bar, but you didn’t want that,” his dad continued. “You could have gone to college and done something with yourself.”
“I am doing something with myself!”
“Where do you live? You’re staying in a truck stop motel and living out of the trunk of your car!”
“Why would I pay rent for an apartment when I’m on the road?”
His father scoffed. “You’re here because you ran out of money. You think we don’t see what you’re doing? And I know you stole the manicotti the other night.”
“Nona gave it to me! Tell him I didn’t steal it, Nona.”
His grandmother turned from the stove where she fried chicken cutlets and pinched Giovanni’s cheek hard. She kissed his forehead, most likely leaving a smear of red lipstick. “I’ll cook’a whatever you want’a.”
He arched a brow at his dad and Paulie rolled his eyes. “Say something, Colleen.”
“I think your father’s right, Giovanni. You need a steady income. You have to start thinking about your future.”
He groaned, forking his fingers through his hair. They’ve had this same damn argument a hundred times. “I am thinking about my future. Every move I make has to do with what’s best for my future.”
“You know, your sister put in an application for a job at the new hotel. They’re looking for managers.”
“I’m not working at a hotel. And Mariella should know better than to think they’d hire her.”
His mother scowled. “Why the hell wouldn’t they hire her? She’d be a great manager.”
“Because the hotel is owned by Perrin’s husband, Mom. Remember Perrin? The girl who bought the bar, the one who was engaged to Bran?” Did he have to spell it out for her? “Mariella was sleeping with her ex-fiancé.”
His father slapped him in the back of the head. “Don’t talk about your sister that way.”
Giovanni held open his hands. “I’m not saying anything that’s not true.”
His father pointed at him, a threatening glint in his eye.
Nona carried over a tray of cutlets and his mother set the table. They called a temporary truce while they ate, but once their bellies were full, they were back to screaming at each other again.
“That’s it!” Giovanni snapped. “I’m outta here. I don’t have to listen to this.”
“That’s it, go back to your roadside motel and see how the other half lives,” his father sneered. “Where are you going with those cutlets?”
Giovanni put on his coat and tucked the warm Tupperware of chicken under his arm. “I’m takin’ them. And Nona will fight you if you try to stop me.”
His grandmother blew him a kiss. He hugged his mom, kissing her cheek. “Love ya, Ma. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He had no intention of going back to the motel. He hadn’t been there in days. When he pulled up at Erin’s the lights were on. He parked on the street and frowned at the recliner chair on its side in the snow-covered front lawn.
He knocked and she opened the door wearing those form-fitting tight cotton pants girls wore and a little pink sweater. She looked delicious.
“Hey.”
He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “There’s a piece of furniture in your front yard.”
“I was throwing it away, but it got too heavy.”
“Oh. Want me to move it to the curb?”
“Leave it for now. It’s really heavy. I’ll deal with it later.”
He caught her hand and met her stare. “I’ll help you when you’re ready.”
She smiled as if to say, this is just more crazy behavior you can expect.
But she wasn’t crazy—just unexpected. And he was coming to suspect that solid explanations hid under all her quirky behavior. He awaited the day she might open up to him about herself again.
He held up the Tupperware. “Chicken cutlets. They’re still warm.”
“Yum.” She took the container and he pressed a kiss to her lips as he entered the house.
Every time he came over it looked different. A cold draft cut through the living room and he stilled. “You’ve got the windows open?”
She cracked open the container and picked up a cutlet, sniffed it. “The cigarette smoke. I’m trying to air it out in here.”
He took a deep breath. It did smell better.
She took a nibble of the breaded chicken. She shut her eyes and let the flavor sink in. “This is delicious.”
He loved watching her eat. It was rare to find someone with such a simple pallet. Erin had yet to try half the foods his family lived on, and he was excited for her to sample all the delicious dishes his Nona could make.
They sat on the sofa as she ate. He told her about the argument he just had with his parents and she told him about her day. She’d emptied the hall closet and driven a few boxes of her dad’s coats and shoes to Goodwill.
She’d been handling things really well since their talk a few nights ago, and he was glad to see her up and about. They hadn’t slept together again, but he’d been perfectly content to give her some physical space.
Now, however, as she sat cross-legged in those tight little pants, looking ten kinds of delicious while eating his grandmother’s chicken, he was rethinking his stance.
“Did I ever show you my watch?” he asked.
She chewed another bite of a cutlet. “Uh-uh.” The toasted breadcrumbs clung to her lips and he wanted to lick them away.
“It’s like a crystal ball.” He gave his wrist a shake, pressed the face of the watch to his ear, and gasped. “It says you’re not wearing any panties.”
She laughed then tsked. “It must be broken because I’m definitely wearing panties.”
“Damn.” He scowled at the watch and gave it a couple of taps. “This stupid thing’s an hour fast again.”
She laughed. “Buh-dump-bump.”
“I’m here all night, folks. Try the shrimp.”
Her eyes creased with a smile. “If you stick around, your prediction might come true.”
He leaned in and bit the piece of breaded chicken pinched by her fingers. “I plan to.” He toppled her to her back, kissing the breadcrumbs off her lips and tickling his cold hands under her shirt until she giggled.
“Give me time,” he whispered, plucking the elastic waistband of her leggings and letting it snap back against her skin. “My magic watch is never wrong.”
She arched and softened under him, her fingers forking softly through his hair. “I don’t doubt it.”
He bit her lips and she gripped his shirt, holding him close and kissing him slowly. The container of chicken fell forgotten onto the floor. It took less than an hour for his prediction to come true and Erin’s panties to come off, but soon her tension also returned.
“Let’s shut out the lights.”
“The lights aren’t on.” They were literally sitting in the dark, a small glow of light spilling from the kitchen.
She fidgeted, her hands covering her breasts as he kissed her neck. He slowly plied her arms away. “Relax.”
“I can’t.”
“Try.”
“I am.” She laughed nervously.
“Try harder,” he teased, nuzzling her shoulder.
She shoved at him. “This isn’t working for me.”
He sat back, giving her space and she reached for her sweater on the floor. He sighed, his erection pressing painfully against the zipper of his pants. He didn’t understand. What did she have to hide?
“Why don’t you want me to see you?”
For once, she didn’t lash out. She scooped up the chicken and set the container aside. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see me.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s more about seeing you.”
“What?” He blinked, unsure how to even process that. “Is it the way I look?”
“No! That’s not what I mean. It’s the way you look at me.”
He drew back, hurt that his glance might be making her uncomfortable or making some sort of unattractive face whenever they made out. Jeeze, way to give a guy a complex. “Maybe I should go.”
“No, don’t leave. See, now you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.” Just a little self-conscious.
“But you’re disappointed.”
He wouldn’t say that either. He was…frustrated. “I want to be close to you, Erin.”
“I want that too.”
“But you don’t want to look at me.”
She gasped as if just realizing how terrible that sounded. “No, Giovanni. I love the way you look. But sometimes…” She fidgeted, pulling her sleeves down over her hands and balling her fists in her lap. “It’s intense.”
“Intense?”
She nodded. “I’m not used to it.”
He didn’t know what to say.
She moved closer, scooting along the floor and leaning into his side. Both their backs pressed into the couch. “I’m sorry.” Her hand slipped into his and squeezed.
It was the first tangible attempt of hers to work through a challenge rather than panic and push him away. Progress, he thought, closing his hand tight around hers.
“It’s okay.”
She rested her head against his shoulder. “I like being with you. I just get anxiety.”
Once again, he wondered if anyone had ever sexually abused her. He’d already asked once and she said no. He didn’t want to press the issue. Could other abuse have this effect on a person? How deeply could mental and physical abuse reach to cause such post-trauma in unrelated situations?
Erin panicked whenever things started to feel too good. It had to be some sort of psychological trigger.
She cuddled closer, a different form of intimacy, but one he was just as happy to accept. Stretching out his legs, he adjusted his position so she could lay comfortably with her head on his lap.
“It’s easier when the lights are off,” she rasped.
If she couldn’t see him, would she imagine someone else? He liked the visual connection they shared during intimacy, loved watching her responses and reading her body language. Sure, he could still see her in the dark and read the shadows, but he wanted to look into her eyes and know she looked back.
“It’s not as intimate.” He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
She didn’t deny his words.
Was that it? Was she afraid of intimacy? He’d posed the same suspicion to Finn, but never thought much about how that might impact him and Erin moving forward.
Her voice was low, her stare on his chest as her fingers absentmindedly swept through the nap of the carpet. “You know how a fire feels so good when your’re cold?”
“Sure.”
“It feels good, but you can’t get too close or you get hurt. It’s a comfort until it burns you. And when it burns you, you carry the scars forever.”
Regret pinched in his gut. Was she saying she wanted to be close to him but couldn’t bear it? Was this her way of saying she was afraid of getting burned? It pained him to think she feared he would ever hurt her. “Erin, I’d never hurt you. I can barely step on a spider without feeling guilty.”
“I believe you, but…I’m messed up. I have trust issues wired well beyond my control, and I don’t know how to flip the switch.” Her hand stilled. “Maybe I can’t.”
It was a scary possibility. He hated when she talked about herself that way. “Is it something we can try to work through?”
She looked up at him with big eyes and he sensed some raw truth coming. “I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”
Leaning forward, he kissed her head. “Me too.”
She smiled up at him and they shared a moment of relatable insecurities.
She returned her cheek to his lap. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He stroked her hair, leaning back and accepting the night wouldn’t be ending as he’d hoped. “I know you’re trying.” He continued to run his fingers through her golden strands.
“I like when you bring me food.”
He grinned. “Good, because I like feeding you.”
“No one’s ever brought me food before.”
He frowned, adding another mental tick to the list of nurturing practices Erin was raised without. “That’s basically the main way my family expresses love.”
She smiled, her fingers toying with the clasp of his belt buckle. “Well, my family never showed affection, so our food usually came from a can.”
It hurt to imagine anyone growing up in a house like that. His family argued and yelled, but they loved each other and always made sure that was clear. “I’d love to cook with you.”
Cooking in the kitchen wasn’t a chore in their house. It was an act of love and bonding. His parents probably connected more in that room than their bedroom. The kitchen was the heart of his home, and he loved how alive it always seemed.
“I’d love that, too. I only really know how to make one good thing.”
Her father’s crumb cake. That cake was damn delicious, but he’d never ask her to make it for him again. “We can make whatever you want. I know tons of recipes by heart.”
She smiled and shut her eyes. He sensed her calm returning and loved that they could find moments of stillness like this, sitting comfortably with each other in the silence.
He traced a finger over her eyebrow. The crease between her brows relaxed, her face so angelic. He gently moved her hair away from her cheeks, tracing her features and getting lost in her beauty. “You’re so gorgeous.”
“Things aren’t always what they seem.”
“Hey, don’t do that.”
“It’s true.”
“No, it’s not. I don’t like when you put yourself down. We all have room for improvement, but we shouldn’t grade ourselves on our weaknesses alone. You have a lot of strengths. Focus on them.”
“What are my strengths?”
“Are you fishing for compliments?”
She smirked. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “You’re fierce. You don’t back down from a challenge. You’re not easily intimidated. And, you say what’s on your mind.”
“So, I’m a bitch?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You’ve said it before.”
If she wasn’t lying so docilely in his lap, he’d think she was picking a fight. “Well, what the hell did I know? I’m just getting to know the real you.”
She sighed as if the thought worried her. “Careful, it’s frightening in my head at times.”
“I don’t scare easily. Besides, I like figuring you out.” The pad of his thumb traced the bow of her lips. “I know you’re tough, but you can be so incredibly soft. Your softness is a secret. I like that no one suspects it’s there. I want you all to myself.”
Her lashes lifted and she looked up at him. “You can’t say something like that?—”
“Sure I can. It’s true.”
“You didn’t let me finish.” She paused and he waved a hand for her to go on. “You can’t say something like that and not kiss me.”
She was too damn tempting to resist. He toppled her to the floor, rolling his body on top of hers as he took her mouth in a demanding kiss. She met his passion with her own, so he moved fast, not giving her time to think or get lost in her insecurities.
“Tell me you want me, again,” she whispered, pulling at his hair and biting hungrily at his lips.
He groaned. “I want you. I want your soft lips and your sweet body. I want your mind and your secrets. I want your kisses and your moans.” He dragged his tongue up her throat to her ear and whispered, “But most of all, I want your trust, because I know it’s not something you easily give.”
Her breath hitched as he caught her earlobe between his teeth and pulled.
“Will you trust me, Erin?”
A soft moan met his ears as her nails clawed down his back. He didn’t expect her to answer, because Erin only said what she meant and didn’t waste words to make other people comfortable. But she also didn’t say trust was impossible, and that gave him hope.
Her knees hugged his hips as his erection pressed impatiently against her. Shoving her sweater up, he captured a nipple in his mouth. “I want you, Erin. Right now.”
She pushed down his pants, her tongue darting into his mouth as she gripped and stroked him. Peeling her leggings away was an act of elastic determination. The damn things kept rolling back up and she laughed at his obvious frustration.
When he finally got her naked from the waist down, he lined his body up with hers and slid into her with one sure stroke. She arched beneath him, her fingers bunching in his clothes as he drove into heaven.
Her hands forked through his hair, sending shivers down his spine as her nails scraped his shoulders. He pushed his body hard against hers. Her heels dug into his ass, shoving his pants lower as she pulled him closer.
He tore off his shirt then reached for hers, but she caught his hand. They stilled and he stared at her.
“Look at me, Erin. I see you, whether you’re clothed or not. Let me feel your body against mine. Please.”
Her grip slowly loosened and he stripped her sweater away. Anchoring his forearms into the carpet, he covered her like a blanket, skin to skin, pelvis to pelvis, lips to mouth. She shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was a chill of fear or desire.
Tracing his lips along her jaw, he gave her a moment to adjust. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
Her chin softly trembled, and he kissed her temple.
He dragged his mouth to her ear. “I like being with you. I’m not going to run away when you have a bad day or get emotional. I can handle it.”
He brushed his nose alongside hers and felt the cool trace of a tear. “Please, don’t cry, baby.”
“Don’t,” she choked.
“Don’t what?” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Leave?” He nipped at her jaw. “I won’t. I promise.”
She sucked in a jagged breath. “You’re crushing me.”
“I’m not putting any weight on you.”
“I can’t breathe.”
Whispering softly into her ear, he said, “Yes, you can. Take a deep breath. You’re fine. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
She sniffled and he slowly started to move, keeping his weight from sinking into her, and pressing tender kisses wherever his mouth could reach.
Her eyes squeezed shut and tears continued to seep from her lashes, but she didn’t tell him to stop.
“No matter if the lights are off or your eyes are closed, you can’t stop me from feeling this, Erin. It’s not just our bodies. It’s the connection. And I know you feel it, too.” He also knew it terrified her. “You don’t have to be afraid with me.”
Her eyes squeezed tighter and she shook her head but then nodded.
He dragged a knuckle down her cheek. “You don’t have to hide who you are from me. Messy doesn’t scare me.”
What they shared wasn’t as simple as screwing. He was afraid to honestly admit what he might be feeling. But something deep in his soul knew what it was. It was different with her because his heart had somehow gotten involved. She wasn’t easy and that made every ounce of her character more valuable than anything others might willingly give away.
She found the emotional connection insufferable because she didn’t know how to feel anything more complex than frustration or hate. But beneath her hard exterior, she hid a beating, feeling heart. And, when they slept together, it was more than any sexual experience because it went far beyond the sex.
They shared a connection neither of them expected to find. Sleeping with Erin didn’t qualify as simple sex, because every time he touched her he had to think and use his heart. They weren’t simply having sex. They were making love.