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He pops his head up, licks his lips, and smirks. “That’s how I should wake you up every morning.”
I drop my head back onto the pillow as I take a long draught of air. “You’re killing me.”
“Good.”
Gazing at the ceiling, I mumble, “If this is part of your plan to butter me up so I don’t murder you, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“Didn’t even consider it,” he shoots back.
I lift my head. My blurry eyes come into focus on his face, his lower jaw wet with my slick. I shut my eyes. “I can’t do this so early in the morning.”
“It’s ten o’clock.”
“Exactly.” My eyes snap open and I glance over at the clock on the nightstand. “I can’t believe I’ve been asleep since six o’clock last night.”
His eyes soften as he gazes up at me. “You were tired. You went through a lot.”
“I missed the movie,” I complain as I snatch up my phone, which Marku must have found and placed on the night table. I shoot off a text to Star.
“I checked in with Lucian. She’s doing okay.”
Star replies instantly, and we converse by text for a few minutes. Once I’m certain she’s feeling better, I drop the phone and slump back into the bed. “She’s okay,” I repeat, not able to come up with anything more inventive this early.
I follow his movements greedily as he settles beside me, buck naked. I bite my bottom lip as my gaze trails down his tatted and scarred chest and follows his happy trail down to his erection. One look and I almost gave up on my anger. I shake the lust clouding my head. Luckily, I managed to snatch the tail end of it and hang on for dear life.
Of course, he must have seen me eye-fucking him and rests his hand on my belly. “How are you doing?”
Stifling a yawn, I purse my lips and give him a side-eye glare filled with disapproval. “You mean besides my best friend almost dying on an order from my good-for-nothing Sperm Donor and my husband ghosting me right after I lost my virginity? You mean that?”
He reluctantly drags his hand away. I instantly miss the contact and snarl at him, even though my anger is now directed at myself. I’m already hooked on him to the point that if he withdraws his touch, I’m antsy. He clasps his hands together. “What do you want me to say that I haven’t already said? I’ve already acknowledged that I fucked up by assuming that you’d be upset.”
“Lesson one, don’t assume. Ask. Just ask. It’s called communication, a skill I thought you’d have by now.”
His mouth parts slightly. “Noted.” He breathes out a long breath. “I owe you an apology. Lesson two is to show you how sorry I am. I tried yesterday, but words are important.” He locks eyes with me. “I’m sorry for assuming to know how you’d react. I’m sorry for running and for hurting you. I’m sorry for everything.”
My heart slams against my rib cage. He’d expressed his regret in the way he took care of me, but he’s right, words are important. I appreciate him saying them. It makes me feel seen after he ghosted me for so many days, making me feel as unseen as with my mother. But I still have something more to say. Marku may have apologized verbally, he may have taken care of me yesterday and eaten me out this morning, but that doesn’t mean things are good between us. Not by a long shot.
“The thing is, Marku…this isn’t the first time...”
His brows slam together. “The first time… What?”
“Pushed me away.”
He pulls back in surprise. “I didn’t push you away, I avoided you.”
I give him a look that saysthere’s no difference, but he insists, “There is, Chuckie. This was nothing like the other time. I must be addicted to you or something, especially after the other night, because it was torture being away from you.”
He takes hold of my hands. “Baby, I fucking love you. Do you think I’ve ever said that to someone before? No, I haven’t. It’s always been you. And just when we’re finally together, I get slapped in the face with the choice between revenge for my brother’s death or my wife’s happiness. What kind of husband chooses anything over you? A fucked-up one, that’s what.”
He looks away in dismay, focusing on the cliff painting. “And I couldn’t protect you yesterday—”
A dull ache spreads through my body. I take his hands, squeezing tightly. “You’re not a fucked-up husband, you’re amafiehusband, something I’ve always known and accepted about you.”
He snaps his gaze back to me, his eyes bleeding sadness and remorse. “And what kind ofmafiehusband am I if I can’t keep you safe? You can’t answer that question so easily, can you now? I’m a selfish bastard is what I am. If I wasn’t so selfish, I’d let you go. Ishouldlet you go. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t you dare,” I shout, slapping him on the chest. “This is what I’m talking about. Since when are you so quick to give up?”
He throws up his hands. “It’s not about giving up. It’s about doing what’s best for you. I couldn’t save Cristian. I couldn’t save you yesterday. Before that, I fucked up with the Sperm Donor. What does that say about me? You deserve the best, Crina. Can you honestly say I’m the best there is?”
