“That’s… awful.”
“For the people left behind, si,”he agreed, a sadness washing over his features that tightened my chest. “What about yourmamma? How old were you when she passed?”
Shit. I’m surprised he remembered. I’d only mentioned her passing briefly in that massage room weeks ago. I really didn’t expect to be having these deep, traumatic conversations with this man. My head was telling me to change the subject; don’t let him in. But the way he was looking at me… made me want to spill all my secrets.
“Twenty-three. She, um,” I shifted, the weight in my chest deepening as it pressed against my ribs. I barely talked about her death to anyone. It was still too hard. “She died in a house fire, along with her friend.”
“Cazzo,” he groaned, squeezing my hand, which only made tears form behind my eyes. “I’m sorry. That's brutal.”
The horrors of that night flashed through my mind: parking the car and seeing the flames, running around the perimeter looking for a way in, screaming for her, crying on my knees in the garden as the firefighters tried their best, but it was too late. I wiped my face as tears escaped and exhaled, pushing the trauma back.
“I don’t like thinking about that night.”
“You were there?”
I nodded. “We were about to go on a trip around Europe for my birthday. My mum loved to travel. She met my papiwhile she was travelling in Italy. Even in the UK, we never stayed in one place for too long, which made it hard to make friends, but it didn’t bother me. She was my best friend.” I sucked in a sharp breath. “We were staying with her friend, Sandra, the night before because she lived closer to the airport. We had an early flight, so they’d gone to bed, but I couldn’t sleep because I was too excited. So I went for a drive. When I came back, the house was on fire. I never should have left. The fire alarm was broken, and they were both fast asleep.”
He rubbed his hand down his face. “Shit. That’s why you reacted that way when I ripped the alarm off the ceiling?”
I nodded. He grabbed my arm and hauled me into him, wrapping himself around me as I melted into his chest. I closed my eyes and inhaled his oud and amber scent, letting it comfort me.
“I'll fix the alarm tonight. Okay? Don't worry.”
“It was my fault. The report said the fire started because straighteners had been left on. They were mine.”
He tightened his hold, one hand sliding up my back and pressing my face into his chest. “Listen to me,” he whispered, his voice a deep rumble. “If anyone is to blame, it’s the fire. Or fate. Or God, if you believe in him. But it isn’t you. You didn’t kill yourmamma, Aria.” I lifted my head from his chest to look into his eyes. “You loved her. That’s all.”
It was a little unsettling how quickly he’d soothed the pain that had lived inside me for years. How safe he felt when I was at my most vulnerable. Even more unsettling was that I had opened up to him like this so quickly. I didn’t even talk toPapior Allegra like that.
I swallowed as he brushed my hair away from my face with his fingers, his dark eyes searching mine. The room seemed to fall away as my gaze flicked between his eyes and his lips. My heart was racing in my ears, the sudden adrenaline pumping through my veins at being this close to him. This intimate.
I wanted to kiss him. The need to brush my lips against his made me feel lightheaded as our breathing grew unsteady. His fingers glided across my cheekbone, then slid into my hair as he leaned in closer, searching my eyes for answers I wasn’t sure I knew myself.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered as my lips parted of their own accord, breathing him in.
His fingers twitched in my hair as if he were barely holding back from pulling me into him and kissing the life out of me. My body was flush against his, my hand resting on his solid pec, and I could feel his hammering heart against my palm.
“I want to know the softness of your lips and what sounds you’ll make when I taste you for the first time.”
He brushed his lips against mine, and as if on cue, I let out a soft moan. He chuckled, so fucking sexy and cocky.
“Call me an old-fashioned romantic, but there’s something about a first kiss. About the moments before your lips first touch, when you’re inches away, holding each other’s gazes just like this.” He pulled me in closer, impossibly close, so I was practically lying on his chest. “I think a first kiss can tell you more about how much that person has the potential to mean to you than anything else. After a first kiss, you feel it.”
“Feel what?” I breathed, sinking further into his dark gaze.
“Everything,” he groaned, licking his lips as he stared at mine. “Or nothing.”
“That’s a lot of pressure."
“Depends how you look at it. You could see it as the ultimate test.”
“So you’re saying that if it’s a bad first kiss, this marriage is doomed.”
“It won’t be.”
“Doomed?”
“A bad first kiss.”
