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"Not completely," I search his features, "but maybe, I am a step closer to getting to know you better."
He holds my gaze and the tension between us ratchets up. He wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck and I shiver. He leans in close enough for our eyelashes to mingle. This close, I can see the specks of silver in his eyes. Then his nose bumps mine and his mouth is on mine. He kisses me deeply, thrusts his tongue inside my mouth and robs me of my breath completely. He hauls me closer, grips my hip, slides his palm across my butt and squeezes my ass as he continues to ravish my mouth. He glides his fingers in between my legs and pushes my panties aside. I gasp, then huff when he thrusts his fingers inside my slippery channel. He weaves his fingers in and out of me and I wriggle under his ministrations.
Heat explodes in my lower belly and I try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me. He continues to cram his fingers in and out of me. Each time he hits that spot right in the center of me, goosebumps pop on my skin. I strain toward him, even as I try to get away from him, but he doesn’t give up. He speeds up his actions as he continues to kiss me, with his eyes open, holding my gaze, as he grinds the heel of his hand into my clit, and with his other hand, pinches my nipple.
He adds another finger inside me, stretching me, filling me, then releases my nipple only to pinch down on my clit. A trembling grips me. That's when he tears his mouth from mine and pulls his fingers out of me. He holds my fingers to my mouth as I gasp.
"Lick me clean," he orders. And I can’t help it. I have to do as he commands. So, I open my mouth and when he shoves his fingers inside my mouth, I drag my tongue around his digits. He pulls them out, then wipes them on my naked chest. Then, he pulls me off his lap and places me on my feet. He stands up and guides me over to where I had dropped my T-shirt. He tugs it over my head, ensuring I thread my arms through the sleeves before he straightens the hem.
"Why didn’t you let me come?" I hiss. "Why the hell didn’t you let me climax?"
"Just because I told you my life story, doesn’t mean I am going to go easy on you."
I shake my hair back from my face. "You’re a sadist."
He laughs, "You’re right. You’re beginning to understand me now."
I pull away from him and he lets me. I march up to my room, pull on my jeans, grab my phone and bag and march downstairs. By the time I reach the bottom of the steps, I’ve dialed Seb’s number. Except, Axel grabs my phone and switches off the call. "I’ll drive you home."
33
Axel
I tuck my button-down shirt into the waistband of my dark jeans. Hey, at least they are dark in color—my one concession to getting married in church. Church? I am getting married in church, in front of a minister and everything. Jesus H. Christ. Nope, the irony is not lost on me. I am swearing, using the name of the Lord, while I am bemoaning the fact that I am going to take my marriage vows in front of Him. What a bloody farce. I reach for my jacket and shrug it on. My fingers itch and I grab up my lighter and flick the flame on and off. On and off. I stare at the flame, the hottest part of which is right above the tip of the flame. The yellow heart of it is where it’s the least hot. Strange, right?
You’d expect the innermost part of the flame to be the most lethal, yet it’s the coldest. It’s what I have in common with fire. My heart will not burn for her. Whatever happens to me, affects me on the surface but never penetrates the inner core of me. And that’s good. It’s the only way I can stick to the plan. The only way I can see this through to the end without my emotions messing everything up.
I straighten my cuffs when the door opens. Nonna steps inside the room. She’s wearing a blue dress that flows to her ankles. The pearl-accented stilettos she’s wearing add height to her already upright posture. I stiffen and watch as she walks over to stand next to me. "Axel," she murmurs, "I hope I am not interrupting?"
"And if I told you you were?"
"It wouldn’t make a difference." Her lips kick up.
"That’s what I thought." I chuckle. "Why don’t you have a seat?"
She turns to face me, "This won’t take long."
I lower my chin and survey her from my greater height. Her silver hair is coiffed perfectly, her make-up is flawless, and the lines on her face only add gravitas to her presence. She regards me with her faded blue eyes, no doubt, taking stock of me as I do the same to her.
"You’re so handsome," she reaches up and pats my cheek, "nipotino mio."
"Which means—?"
"An affectionate term for grandson."
"Right," I shuffle my feet.
"I take it, terms of endearment make you uncomfortable."
"No," I shake my shoulder, "it’s just not what I am used to."
"You are part of thefamiglianow, and we can be quite expressive."
"You don’t say." I wince.
"You sound so English," she chuckles. "And yet, when I look at you, all I can see—"
"Don’t say Xander," I snap.
