39. You’re It for Me
CHAPTER 39
YOU’RE IT FOR ME
M arco
As a newlywed, I never thought I’d spend so many nights on the couch. I stretch out my legs and my feet hang over the edge, only heightening my frustration. First, at the hospital and now, in my own damned home. I waited for Jia to emerge from the bathroom for half an hour last night before finally giving up and marching downstairs. At some point as I tossed and turned on the leather sofa, I heard her quiet footfalls across the loft.
At least she finally came out of the bathroom.
I haven’t heard her stir since. Even Yéye hasn’t materialized from his room, and he’s usually an early riser. Then again, it is only seven in the morning. But I’ve been up for hours. I’m not sure I can even say I truly ever slept. Besides my raging hard-on, I couldn’t get the look in her eyes off my mind. Like the sex actually meant something.
And it did. To me .
I’ve been with more women than I can count, and it never felt like that . Fuck, is this love? It’s been so long I’m not sure I remember what it feels like anymore. The craziest thing about all of it was that it was the most vanilla sex I’ve ever had. Hell, neither of us even came. And still, despite the awkward maneuvering, for those few blissful moments buried inside that warm pussy, it felt like I was finally home.
A home that belonged to me and no one else.
Being in foster care, I’d never had that. Not since I was a young kid and my mamma and nonno put Nico and me on that plane to America to find our father. Spoiler alert: things went to shit real quick when our father never showed up at the airport.
I bury the dark memories, reminding myself that Umberto Valentino wasn’t the bastard I’d spent my whole life believing he was. If it wasn’t for Dante and Luca sharing some old correspondence they’d found buried in our father’s boxes, I never would have known the truth.
Faint footsteps draw me from musings of the past, and my head swivels toward the spiral steps. Jia descends slowly, wrapped in a red silk robe with brilliant dragons embroidered across the material. Dark circles line the soft skin beneath her eyes, and they’re swollen and puffy as if she’s been crying.
My chest aches as I take her in and before I can stop myself, I’m on my feet moving toward her. Cazzo , I’m in love. My ribs constrict, squeezing my failing organ at the visceral truth. I’m totally out of my mind in love with my wife . Her dark gaze rakes over me as I approach, and I halt abruptly only a few inches before I reach her, my arms longing to wrap around her waist and hold her close. Maybe she doesn’t want me to touch her. Maybe I hurt her, and she’s really pissed. “I’m sorry,” I mutter.
“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one that freaked out and ran. I’m sorry.” Her eyes meet mine, and my jaw nearly unhinges at the unexpected apology .
I release a breath of relief and reach for her hand. I’m pleasantly surprised when she allows my fingers to tangle with hers. “Are you okay?”
The hint of a smile curls the corner of her lip. “Just a little sore from your ridiculously large cock.”
I bark out a laugh and draw her into my chest, squeezing her slender form tight against my own, nearly forgetting all about the wound. “Why didn’t you just tell me to stop?” I whisper against the top of her head.
“Because I liked it.”
I hold her out to arm’s length because I have to see her face after that startling confession. “You did?” I don’t know much about a woman’s first time, because I never cared to, but from what I’ve seen in movies, it seemed painful.
Her intense eyes chase to mine, and the darkness from a moment ago lifts. “It hurt like hell for a few seconds, but then, it was starting to get better.”
“Then why did you run?”
She pulls back her arm and slams her petite fist into my chest, right at the dragon’s snout. “Because I didn’t want you to see me cry.”
“It hurt that bad?”
“No,” she squeals. “I wasn’t crying because of the pain, you idiot.”
Dio , I don’t think I’ll ever understand this woman. “Then why?”
Her gaze casts down to the floor, one hand still pressed to my chest and the other toying with the long sleeves of her robe. “I was just emotional… I honestly don’t know what came over me.”
Hmm, interesting. She wouldn’t be the first woman I’ve made cry during sex, but it was for completely different reasons the other times. “So…you enjoyed it?”
“Yes. ”
I reach for her chin, trapping it between my fingers and force her eyes to mine. “And you’d like to do it again?”
A lopsided smile curves her lips. “Maybe…”
My cock hardens at the thought. And wearing only boxers, the effect that one word has on me is painfully evident. Her gaze dips to my fully tented crotch.
“Not right now,” she squeaks.
“Why not? Wait—I have an idea.” I scoop her into my arms and carry her toward the stairs.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” I race up the steps, taking them two at a time as anticipation sends heat and a rush of blood to my throbbing cock. The image of Jia in the bathtub, all wet and covered in indecent bubbles has my footsteps quickening.
When we reach the master bathroom, I prop Jia on the edge of the marble tub and spin the faucets.
She wraps the robe tighter around her waist and glares up at me. “What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We’re taking a bath.” I drag my boxers down and they slough onto the marble floor.
She shakes her head, something like panic streaking across those expressive midnight spheres. “Nope, not happening.”
“But why? You said you were sore… this will help. I promise, I won’t even touch you if you don’t want.”
“I said no.” She knots her arms across her chest and shoots me a narrowed glare.
“Come on, Jia, why not?” Turning off the running water, I drop down beside her. “Please, just tell me what it is. I want to understand you.” I drag a hand through my hair, a mix of frustration and confusion elevating my pulse. “I’m really trying here…” I pry her hand from beneath her underarm and press it between mine. It’s so small and delicate compared to my big, rough ones.
I watch as her expression of outright determination begins to soften and then crumble. Her bottom lip quivers, and now I’m totally fucking lost. What did I do now?
“Jia…” I caress her cheek, running my thumb across her skin and catching the falling tear. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. This is never going to work if we’re not honest with each other.”
“I hate this,” she mumbles, and I jerk my hand back. A rueful smile emerges, and she pulls my hand back. “No, not that.” She blows out a breath. “I hate this incessant crying. I despise you thinking I’m weak; I abhor the idea of you seeing my flaws.”
“What flaws, spitfire? From where I’m sitting, you’re absolutely perfect.”
She snorts on a laugh, and on her, the awkward sound is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. She draws in a long breath once the giggle subsides, and as if she’s made up her mind about something, she fixes her eyes to mine. “Promise me that you won’t think differently of me.”
I don’t think there’s anything this woman could say or do that would keep me from wanting her, from loving her. “I promise.”
“And that you won’t overreact.”
My brows furrow at that one. I’m not exactly known for my levelheadedness. “Damn it, Jia, just tell me.” Modifying my tone, I add more softly, “Please.”
Releasing my hand, she begins to unknot the tie of her robe. The red silk slides off her shoulders, and I’m so enthralled by the canvas of porcelain skin beneath: the full breasts, the firm torso and the smattering of dark hair between her legs, I nearly miss it.
As I double back to take her all in once again, my hungry gaze finds her twitchy fingers and moves up her arms.
To the dozens of shallow cuts across her forearms.
No, hundreds. Long ones, short ones, jagged ones, deeper ones .
A wave of red-hot fury pummels my veins as rage darkens my vision. “Who the fuck did that to you?” I roar.
Her eyes cast down to her tangled fingers and I immediately regret my outburst. Attempting to tamp down the burgeoning fury, I heave in a breath and school my expression into a mask of calm. Dropping to my knees, I crawl between her legs and capture her chin. This time, I don’t compel her eyes to mine.
“Please, Jia, tell me who did this to you so I can crucify the bastard, rip him apart limb from limb and drag his remains up and down the Westside Highway.”
She finally lifts her chin, her eyes willingly meeting mine. A tragic mixture of shame and despair darkens those bottomless irises, and my fingers curl into a fist at my side. “It was my father.”
Undiluted rage rushes my chest, tightening my lungs. “Fuck!” I growl. “That pezzo di merda , mother fucker, worthless son of a puttana .” The curses continue to fly as I leap to my feet and pace a tight circle around the bathtub. “How? Why?” I shout into the air, waving my hands like a lunatic.
“I don’t know,” she whispers, “because he enjoyed inflicting pain on others?”
“Fuck!” I snarl again. “If I can’t kill him, I’ll kill someone in his place then. Someone has to pay for this!”
A small hand closes around my forearm, jerking me from the bottomless downward spiral. “Marco, please, you promised you wouldn’t overreact.”
“How could I not? The man abused you, Jia! Your own damned father. The one person who is supposed to protect you.”
“I know,” she shouts back, her fingers tightening around my arm. “And that’s exactly why I turned out this way. Why I cried last night, why I’m scared to death to trust you, why I’m fucked up in the head.” She presses her finger to her temple in the form of a gun. “I can’t do this… ”
Ripping her hand away, I squeeze both between my own. “Yes, you can. So our families fucked us up a little? It doesn’t mean we can’t overcome it together.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Blinding realization hits me like a fucking freight train as I stare at this beautifully fierce but terribly broken woman. “That’s why you wanted an open marriage? You thought if you gave me an out, you wouldn’t suffer if I disappointed you.”
Her fine shoulders lift. “In my experience, men don’t change.”
“You’re wrong, and I’ll prove it to you.” I press a kiss to her forehead and draw her tight against my bare chest. “If you want an open marriage, you can have one, but there’s no one I want but you, my wife. You’re it for me, damn it, spitfire.”