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Gio squeezes me tighter in his hold. “Falynn…”
He trails off from there, distinctly speechless. We stand in each other’s embrace for a while longer, letting the heavy confession exist on its own. I feel strangely relieved to have told him. The coldness that had slipped into my lungs has vanished. I can breathe as I rest my head on his shoulder and he strokes my hair.
“I did that to you,” he says. His thick, long fingers gently rake over my curls. “If you never forgive me…I would understand.”
“That’s the thing, Gio. I don’t hate you. I still love you. But my trust…”
“Then I’ll earn it back. I’ll prove myself. I’ll show you you can trust me, Honey.”
My eyes flutter close as Gio tangles his fingers deeper in my hair and draws me to his mouth. The kiss is slow but passionate. The kind of kiss you give someone when you’re incapable of the right words.
A shiver sparks its way down my spine in reaction. I let him sweep me up into the moment, giving into the feeling behind his kiss—love and passion. I meant what I said when I told Gio it’ll take time to truly trust him again, but I also meant it when I said I still loved him.
It’s never clearer than in moments like these. Gio wraps his arms around me and pulls me off my feet. We leave the living area behind and roam among the long shadows in the bedroom. He sits me down on the foot of the bed first before he dials on the light. Unsure of where this is going, I sit and stare with my heart racing.
His fingers deftly undo the buttons on the sleeve of his crisp white dress shirt. He pushes both sides up to the elbow and directs a glance at me from over his broad shoulder. There’s a gleam in his eyes I can’t place.
I sit obediently, so curious as to what’s going on, I don’t want to move and miss it.
Gio approaches me, his eyes on mine, his walk slow and purposeful. When he reaches me, he lowers himself into a kneel. I open my mouth to question him, but his next move surprises me even more. I fall silent as Gio grabs my left foot and holds it up in his hand.
“Gio, what—”
He interrupts me by unbuckling my sandal and then sliding it off my foot. He pauses long enough to press his lips to the arch. His large hands massage the underside, applying the perfect amount of pressure. I release a small sigh of relief.
His touch feels so good. So relaxing.
I stretch my arms behind me and lean back on the bed. Gio switches legs, bringing my right one up and slipping the heeled sandal off my feet. I watch him watch me as he repeats the delightful massage making me feel like I’ve stepped into a hidden paradise—one where muscular, handsome Mafia Kings get down on their knees and pleasure you.
Gio kisses the arch of my foot again and slowly lowers my feet to the floor. He stands up and grabs my hands, pulling me along with him. I’m expecting a kiss or his arms to circle around me. He’s said it himself. He’s fiending for it and it’s been so long. I told him to make me his again when we left Spinner’s.
His hands grip the hem of my blouse and he lifts it up. I catch on and help him, raising my arms. He moves methodically slow, our eye contact still connected. Almost as if he’s stretching each second into an eternity.
When his hands slide over my naked skin and reach around to my back, another involuntary shiver runs through me. My stomach itself is fluttery with nerves. I’m not sure why. Gio’s my husband. We’ve been intimate a thousand times before.
He unhooks the clasp on my strapless bra and lets it fall away. He fills his palms with my breasts, bending forward to pair his touch with kisses on my neck and shoulders. My eyes close and I zero in on the sensations. Every touch and kiss of his.
It’s been seven months too long since I’ve felt either.
Just as I’m swooning from his mouth on my neck and his hands fondling my breasts, he’s stopped. He’s kneeling again. I discover a split second later it’s to slide my skirt off my hips. I stand still and let him, watching as the breezy fabric slides past the curve of my thighs. He eases each of my legs up so I can step out of the fabric pooled on the floor. Rather than stand right away, he spends a moment showering me with more affection.
Gio drops kisses on my thighs. The little triangle that are my panties. My stomach. He pauses at the faint scar just above my pelvic bone. It’s a scar I don’t like looking at. I don’t like touching it. The reminder of what happened years ago.
He presses his lips to the scar. He’s not only kissing me. In a special, unconditional sort of way, he’s kissing our little one. Emotion wells up inside me, leaving no room for air. I feel so choked up I sputter trying to inhale a good breath. He’s on his feet, enveloping me into his tight embrace.
I spend a grateful moment learning to breathe again. Gio senses this and withdraws enough to plant a soft kiss on my lips before he lets me go.
In another perplexing move, he disappears inside the closet. He reappears almost as quickly. A surprise laugh bubbles out of me when I see what’s in his hands. The gleam in his electric gaze is brighter than ever as he slips my favorite old T-shirt of his over my head. So many nights I’d gone to bed in this penthouse in nothing but this and my panties—I loved being ensconced by the permanent smell of him baked into the fabric.
As I stand before him in the same combo, his old T-shirt and a pair of my panties, it clicks. My smile remains after my laugh goes out.
“You dressed me for bed?” I ask.
“I want to sleep with you,” he says. He undoes the rest of the buttons to his white dress shirt and moves on to his belt. I watch in amazement as he sheds his layers, leaving only his boxer briefs, and begins peeling the covers back on the bed. He spies the surprise on my face and his lips curve enough for a half grin. “What’s that look for?”
“You want to…go to sleep?”
He dims our bedside lamps. “Yes. It’s been seven long months. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left our bed.”
