Page 68 of The Italian Reckoning
Sarah suddenly leans up and kisses me. My instinct is to draw back because I don’t want to overstep any boundary that I’m not aware of, but her kiss is different from others that she’s given me.
It lacks the biting hunger that fueled our earlier kissing or any kiss she’s given me in the past. It’s slower and deeper, like she’s trying to weave a secret poem against my lips that’s only for me to hear.
There’s no fire and no lust. Instead, there’s something deeper.
I slide my hand down to her neck and cradle her jaw, then I kiss her back.
30
SARAH
He kisses me like I’m made of glass, like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held in his arms, and it makes my heart soar.
This is what I want.
This is what I need.
Every part of me feels like it’s made of the most fragile glass, like pouring my heart out has robbed me of all the strength I have to hold myself together. So Rocky does it for me. He picks me up and cradles me to his chest, maintaining the softest kiss I’ve ever had in my life. We leave behind the study and I guide him toward the bedroom, where he lays me down on the bed. Just as he’s about to pull away, I cup his cheek with the palm of my hand.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, staring deep into his eyes. I’m scared that the moment he walks away, I’ll shatter into a thousand pieces and I won’t have the strength to rebuild myself. Not again. That monster took so much from me and I’ve spent years keeping everything at arms’ length—including real intimacy.
Now Rocky is here and beyond the mind-numbing grief, there is only one thing I want.
To feel.
Just once.
I want to feel everything.
“I’ll never leave,” Rocky whispers, crawling over me and rejoining our lips in a gentle kiss.
Everything starts and remains gentle. The soft touch of his hands against my skin as he holds me close to his hot body. The tender way his lips massage and move against my own. The languid roll of his body as he aligns his torso and legs with my own. Everything is soft and slow, and it almost makes tears well back up in my eyes.
I don’t deserve to be held like this. I don’t deserve to be cared for.
Every kiss Rocky gives me tells me that actually, I do.
He kisses my jaw and leaves a trail of love bites down my neck. When I reach under his shirt and caress his body, it’s not long until I find the two small scars from where he was shot in the back at the gala. Scars of wounds that nearly took his life. My fingertips linger and Rocky’s eyes meet mine, breaking the kiss in order to shed his clothing. When he’s back over me, he kisses me deeply.
“Proof of my survival,” he says in a low voice, then his palm skims over the scars on my lower belly and I fight the urge to pull away. “Proof of yours.”
He’s right, but my disconnect from them is so powerful that when Rocky moves down my body and presses his lips to the long, thin scar below my navel, it doesn’t feel like he’s kissing me. It’s like I’m watching him kiss someone else, someone who isn’t even a part of this moment.
Until he kisses another scar.
And then another.
Every single scar that litters my body, every detail that monster left behind, is devoured by Rocky. He kisses slowly, licks slower, and nibbles along each scar like he’s removing them and remaking them with his teeth. Across my abdomen, the few around my ribs, even the ones on my back get what feels like hours of gentle attention when he rolls me over. He locates and loves every single scar he finds on my body until I’m a panting, writhing mess.
And I can feel them. Every single one. The numbness that’s existed inside me for years is replaced with a pulsing, heated yearning as my skin sings from every love-nibble Rocky decorates over my skin. Then he’s kissing me deeply, our mouths dancing in a lazy, slow circle.
Then he’s between my legs and pressing inside me until we become one.
“Rocky,” I moan softly, placing one hand over his heart while my other cradles his neck.
“I’m right here,” he whispers breathlessly. “I’m always going to be right here.”
I pray he means it. In a few short months, the man I hated has suddenly become the only thing holding me together. I was shattered, barely keeping myself in one piece, and now Rocky has me. Every kiss, every touch and caress and stroke, it’s all slowly placing one fragile piece back in place until I’m almost whole. Even his cock buried deep inside me brings such a sense of overwhelming love and peace that the tears tickling the corners of my eyes are of adoration and an overwhelming sense of love.
