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“Oh,tesora. It must be so difficult living a life where you have everything handed to you. I’m sure you’ve faced great hardships.” I could hear the sarcasm dripping from his voice, and I wanted so badly to scream at him for being an ass. Of course, he didn’t know. I couldn’t blame him for thinking my life had gone perfectly, but…I did. I wanted him to know the truth, but saying it aloud felt impossible.I was drugged, kidnapped, brutalized, and kept in a dark basement for three days. I could’ve been killed.But the words didn’t go past my lips. They faded into nothing, and I said the next best thing.
“Don’t call me that,” I spat, our closeness riling me. He’d been this close to me before, and I’d been young and naive enough to think it meant something. I was neither of those things now.
“What,tesora?” he pushed.It means ‘darling’ in Italian,he’d told me once.It’s a term of endearment. It’s for people who are important in our lives.But I hadn’t been important enough, apparently. I’d waited for months and finally decided to stop waiting on my twentieth birthday. I was only at the bar that night to find a distraction—to get over him once and for all. God, if he would’ve just stayed…
“Don’t call me that,” I said through gridded teeth, trying to hold back the shaking of my limbs. Being close to him reminded me of those terrifying nights I’d been alone. In my terror and delusional state, I thought maybe he’d innately know that something had happened and come for me, but I’d been stupid. It was ignorant to think that and perhaps even more ignorant to continue holding it against him. He didn’t evenknowwhat had happened. How could he have stopped it?
By being there. By never leading me on and making me desperate for someone else’s attention.
“You won’t come into my home and act like we have no history,” he angrily responded. “I stayed away for your protection, and you should be grateful I did.”
“Grateful,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “I don’t owe you gratitude for shit.”
His eyes blazed, but I knew mine did, too. Neither of us would back down, and I had no idea where this would lead. “I didn’t have time for fucking summer romances. I have a busy schedule and an important life.”
“Oh, so now my life is menial and unimportant?” I pushed his chest, but he didn’t budge. “If you tried to walk a mile in my shoes, you’d crash and burn so fast, and IwishI could see it. I wish I could see you crumple from the shit I’ve endured.”
Hatred was so unwarranted in this situation, but I burned with it. I burned with the urge to scream at him and tell him everything that happened because of his broken promise, and I didn’t doubt he could see that. It was likely why he focused on my scar, his tightened grip on my upper arms loosening. “Then tell me what happened to you.”
I was done with this conversation. We were getting nowhere, and I wouldn’t waste my time. Instead of responding, I tried turning out of his grasp, but he surprised me. He didn’t let go. He dug his fingers into my arm and stepped in until his chest pressed against mine. His woodsy, intoxicating scent filled my nostrils, bringing me back to another place when we’d stupidly allowed our emotions to get the better of us. The consequences of that moment together had been so long-lasting that I couldn’t fathom allowing it to happen again.
Despite my most logical thoughts, my body loosened in all the most fundamental places from his closeness. My lips parted, and shallow breaths left me as I tried and failed to push away from him.
“I’m going,” I said, unable to speak with more than a harsh whisper. This time, when I pulled away, he allowed me to go. I moved quickly toward my car, trying to suppress the longing in my chest. We’d only kissed. We hadn’t touched, groped, or done any of the things that fully grown adults would have done in the same situation. We’d kissed, and that had been all. But right now, the pressure in my lower belly begged for me to do more than that.
My car was within reach—maybe a few feet away—when he gripped my arm and spun me backward, my chest colliding with his hard abdomen. “We’re too old for running.” I opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but before I could suck in a breath to say the words, his lips crashed down on mine ferociously. I had no idea what to say or think as they moved against my lips, his tongue coaxing a small cry from me. I hated him, and based on how he acted toward me, he felt the same, but this had nothing to do with that hatred. This was an entity entirely separate. His body called for mine, and the way his lips drew sounds from me that I had never made before, I allowed myself to sink into his grasp.
My mind felt like mush as his tongue swept across my lower lip, hand pressing flush into my back. All coherent thoughts fell away as I panted through his embrace—through his clear interest. I’d forgotten how amazing it felt to be kissed by him.
He pushed me back until my thighs pressed into cool, hard metal. I clutched the front of his shirt tightly. I needed an anchor—something to tell me these sensations were purely physical. That this attraction I’d felt for years meant nothing. “Fuck,tesora,” he groaned against my lips, the nickname rolling off his tongue so seductively that I deepened the kiss, pressing further into him.
I couldn’t think clearly as he dipped his head and ran his lips along my collarbone, nipping the skin and bringing forth a sensation that had moisture between my thighs pooling. I couldn’t stop—not now. Not even with the persistent voice in the back of my head that said to think before giving in to him. This decision was made out of lust and arousal, not the calculated precision I typically used to run my life. The last time I’d been in a position like this, he’d been the one to stop it before it got too far, but he wasn’t going to stop this time—not unless I asked him to. And that wasn’t what I wanted. I wantedmore.
His hands were everywhere, and he tore my shirt from me at some point, tossing it on the garage floor. I couldn’t recall the moment I’d decided to grab the waist of his pants and pop the button, but they cascaded down his body all the same. His lips devoured. Pressed. Consumed.
“Tell me you want this,” he growled against my skin in a plea. The words solidified something within me as his lips trailed between the valley of my breasts, pausing only long enough to nip the skin there. They continued down and down. So far down that he had to look through his lashes to meet my eyes. The honey brown of his eyes begged for me to give him the word. They had a yearning that took my breath away—a need only I could fulfill.
The words fled through my lips before I could think better of them. “Yes,” I whispered.
He tugged down my shorts and panties, ravenous for what I offered him. I reached for his shirt, intent on having no boundaries between our bodies as we did this, but he only gripped my hand and pulled it away from him. He stood in a swift, jarring motion and lifted me with him, resting me on the cool metal of a car—my car? He pressed my hand into it as I lay back, and he pulled his long length from the boxers that he still wore, stroking himself intensely.
I gasped as I saw what awaited me, bucking my hips in anticipation. His body—his cock—all of it was glorious and beckoning to me. I tried pulling my hand from his to reach for him again, but he tightened his grip, pinning it down so firmly that I couldn’t hope to escape that grasp.
Standing before me, his firm, sculpted physique left me breathless. Carlo wasn’t bulky like Frankie was, and he wasn’t slim like his brother Tommy. He could have been a statue of a God the way he looked at that moment. He pumped himself one last time before coming forward and pressing his lips back to my naval. I arched into the touch, my skin so sensitive that it burned. “Carlo,” I said, arching into his touch. “I need more.”
He looked up at me again, and I saw a hunger in his expression. He sprung forward, pressing his lips back into mine fiercely as he thrust himself into me. I cried out against his lips, and he devoured the sound, adjusting himself and thrusting again. I slipped my free hand up the bottom of his shirt, and no sooner had my fingertips brushed a small section of raised skin than he grabbed that hand, pinning it alongside the other.
He pounded into me, ruthless in his expedition to find his pleasure. His lips were the only part of him I could touch, so as a deep ache began growing within me, I cried out against his mouth and bit his lower lip.
Carlo bucked into me, growling against my mouth. “Christ,” he groaned. A coppery tang of blood met my lips, and I smirked against his, pleased at the reaction I’d drawn from him, at how he bucked wildly. I could hardly contain the cry of release that left my lips as he pulled himself from me entirely, springing away and pumping his cock a few times before spilling his seed across the pavement on the ground.
It took me longer than I wanted to admit to catch my breath and realize we hadn’t used protection. It took even longer for me to wrap my head around what I’d just done. Five years ago, one kiss started all the misfortune in my life that had happened since. I wouldn’t let this be another downfall. I was too consumed by lust to think it through, so I stood and threw my clothes on haphazardly. “This willnothappen again,” I spat at him.
He stared after me as I got in my car and drove away.
7
CARLO
