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“Ti amo.” I love you.Italian.
“Quérote.” I love you.Gaelic.
“Je ne sais pas si tu connais le français mais je suis amoureux de toi dans toutes les putains de langues.” I'm not sure if you know French, but I'm in love with you in every fucking language.I’m crying now. His eyes are wet too.He clears his throat. “I wrote you one more note. You have to find it. But I’ll give you a headstart. He reaches down and lifts me into his arms. With quick easy strides, he takes me to his bedroom.
CHAPTER 51
Eleanna
He sets me down by the bed, standing toe to toe with him.
“Check my pockets.” He whispers. I start with his tux jacket. The pockets are empty, and he shrugs it off. He turns and tosses it onto the chair, then shifts back to me. My hands go to his chest. No shirt pockets. I enjoy feeling his warm, hard muscles under the fabric as I move my hands down. He watches me and takes off his bow tie.
I check the left pant pocket, nothing. I’m about to go to the other side and Mark whips his partially unbuttoned dress shirt off over his head. My pulse starts to race. He’s in a very tight, thin undershirt. He watches me check his second pant pocket, nothing there either. I frown up at him. One side of his mouth lifts as he grabs my hands and places them on his ass. There’s a small back pocket there. With a note.
Ellie,
I am a broken man. Missing pieces. But all that I am and have,
I give to you.
Forever.
Love,
Marco
He takes off his undershirt.
I…
He…
I lick my lips like a woman starved. He is incredible. Chiseled is an understatement. His scars cover the tops of his biceps and shoulders. He throws his shirt on the floor, watching me. He starts on his belt.
“I had surgeries in my teens, grafts to try and make my arms and legs look normal up to the elbow and the knee. But it was so excruciating, and the skin was so damaged, it didn’t make it all the way to the joint.” His voice is low, quiet, cracking.
He pulls his pants down and steps out. Leaving behind tight boxer briefs over bulging, badly marked thighs. The scars swirl and pull and criss cross all over him. It looks so painful that my stomach aches. My tears flow faster. But I don’t look away. I want to see.
“No one has seen all of me or touched me since those surgeons and,” he swallows. “And I thought I didn’t like to be touched. Didn’t want it. But then…Iwantedyou to hold my hand, Ellie. I wanted you to reach up and touch my neck.” I sob as I listen. I can’t hold it all in anymore. He reaches out and pulls me to him, placing my hands on his chest. Most of his chest wasn’t burned, and his pecs flex under my touch. He is smooth as silk, no chest hair. He sniffs and I look up. “This is my good side, sweetheart. You don’t have to see the rest if you don’t —“
I leave his hold and go around to his back before he can finish. I want to see every inch. His back is mottled and angry and covered in…tattoos. Fine black lines follow the scars on his skin and form flames that turn into what looks like wings. Not feathery wings, more like skeletal, deathly things. It’s haunting and intricate and beautiful.
“Gailo did it. I wouldn’t take my shirt off for him to do it. He was so pissy about that. But he’s talented.” He starts to turn to face me so I reach out and place my hands on his skin. Slowly, I smooth my hands over the rough planes of his back. He trembles and I do too. I move my hands around to his front and hug him from behind. I place my check on his back, his bare skin, probably covering him in snot and tears. We stay like that for a second before he turns around to hold me to his chest.
“I’m so sorry, so sorry for what they did to you,” I cry.
“I know, shhh. I know. But you have to block that out. Because we have more to talk about.”
I look up. “We do?”
“Yes. Your sister was right.” He pulls back and shifts down to one knee, then both. His hands squeeze me on my sides. “I’m on my knees.”
“Do you listen to every single one of my conversations?”
“Most of them.”
“Mark!”
