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His hands drifted down to her hips as he slowly backed her up to the bed. She scooted back onto it and he hovered over her, not once breaking their kiss.
Haven closed her eyes as his mouth moved to her neck, his shaky breath hitting the wet spots left behind. Shivers ripped down her spine as he trailed kisses down her stomach, and she inhaled deeply as his tongue dipped inside her belly button. It tickled, her body tingling from head to toe.
Carmine took his time, kissing and caressing every inch of exposed skin, before slowly pulling off her panties. She clutched the sheets tightly as he kissed along her inner thighs, gripping her hips, holding her in place as his tongue gently caressed her flesh.
Haven’s noises grew louder and her legs trembled as the pressure built inside her. Writhing, she let go of the sheets, reaching out for him. She ran her hands through his hair and moaned his name, a groan vibrating in his chest at the sound of it. He pulled away from Haven quickly and she opened her eyes as he sat up, watching as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt to pull it off.
Reaching out, Haven ran her fingers over the ridges of his stomach, tracing the lines of the tattoo on his chest as he unbuckled his pants. He pulled them off and Haven’s breath hitched at the sight of him already erect. She ran her fingers down the light trail of hair on his stomach before grasping him and stroking a few times.
“Are you sure?” he asked, placing his hand on top of hers.
“Now who’s second guessing?” she asked. “Don’t you trust me?”
He smiled, amused she would turn his words around on him, and pulled her hand away. She held her breath as he pushed inside of her, filling her completely with one deep stroke.
“Of course I trust you,” he whispered. “I’m just giving you a chance to change your mind.”
“I’ll never change my mind,” she said. “Not when it comes to you.”
His thrusts were slow and gentle at first as he kissed her softly, whimpers escaping her throat. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as her hands roamed the sculpted muscles of his back.
The pleasure was intense as it swept through her, and it didn’t take long before the pressure built again, her body quivering.
Carmine’s movements grew more frantic after a while, his thrusts harder and deeper. His breathing grew labored, his body trembling in her arms as he slid in and out of her body with fervor. She could feel the desire seeping from his pores as he gave himself to her. The love, the need, the yearning . . . the raw passion between them was enough to take her breath away.
Skin soaked with sweat, Haven felt as if she were on fire, every inch of her aching for all of him. She could hear his pants and gasps, his hands gripping her firmly as he challenged logic by pulling her closer than she had ever been before. It was as if they had melted into one, where he ended and she began nothing but a blur.
Bodies pressed together, she could feel his pulse, blood furiously rushing through his veins. “Your heart,” she whispered. “It’s racing.”
“You feel it?” he asked. “You hear it?”
“Yes.”
“What’s it saying?”
She smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. “It’s saying you love me.”
“I do,” he said. “No matter what. Sempre.”
That word washed through her. “Sempre.”
Carmine’s body shook as his climax hit. He smashed his lips to hers as he thrust a few more times, holding Haven so tightly it was as if his life depended on it.
He stilled his movements, nuzzling into her neck, and let out a shaky breath as a shudder ran through his body.
“Good night, my hummingbird,” Carmine whispered. “I’ll keep you in my dreams.”
7
Sitting at the bottom of the stairs, Carmine dropped his head low as his hand gripped his unruly hair, his eyes fixed on the black duffel bag full of clothes near his feet. His old acoustic guitar was carefully balanced against it—half teetering on the bag, half on the foyer floor.
A chime echoed through the downstairs from a clock in the family room, an eternity seeming to pass with each tick of its hand. Time was a merciless bitch, taunting him as it slipped away. One second; two seconds; twenty minutes; an hour. A century could have gone by, or no time at all.
Carmine’s chest ached. He wished it would just fucking stop.
Footsteps on the stairs behind him made him feel like he was going to be sick. He was afraid Haven would wake up and catch him sitting there alone—part of him treacherously hoping she would find him and stop him, even though he knew it was too late.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” Vincent said, stepping past. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”
