Page 129 of Vicious Behaviors
“Mar?” I chuckle, my heart swelling two sizes at hearing her call me that.
She shifts toward me and smiles. “Is that okay? I heard Stella and Annamaria call you that a few times. I like it.”
“I do too,” I groan, getting hard just by one little word.
“Did you know,” she says as I kiss the slope of her throat and slowly make my way down, “that in a few Latin-based languages, like Portuguese and Spanish, ‘mar’ means ‘sea’? The Italian version is close too. Though spelled differently, it sounds the same. ‘Il mare’,” she says in Italian, grabbing my chin lightlyand pulling my face to meet hers. “It suits you. It suits the color of your eyes.”
“Goddamn it,bella.You’re making it really hard for me to leave this bed right now. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to join me in the shower?”
She laughs softly. “You told Jude you’d be ready in twenty minutes. If I did that, you wouldn’t be ready even in two hours.”
“He can wait,” I say just as I’m about to crawl on top of her.
“Go!” she giggles, throwing a pillow in my face.
“Fine.” I pretend to pout. “But you’ll pay for that later.”
“I’m okay with that,” she coos, lifting off the bed to plant a quick kiss on my lips, leaving her mouthwatering breasts exposed long enough for me to see her hardened nipples salute back at me.
“Oh, you’re going to pay dearly for that,” I say, slapping her ass just to hear the little gasp of want fall from her lips.
I reluctantly get up and go upstairs to take a shower. I would much rather spend my morning doting and worshipping my woman. After what I’ve put her through, I have a lot of apologizing to do, and I fully intend to atone for all of it. Loving Izzie will be my penance and my salvation.
I know it’s going to be an arduous road ahead of us. We still haven’t discussed how we’re going to deal with our chosen professions as well as the alter inside me. After talking to Izzie last night, I’ve decided to not call him by his rightful name anymore. That gives him too much power, and he’s had enough ruling over me to last a lifetime. Alejandro once said that he serves me and not the other way around. I don’t know if that’s entirely true, but if I’m to ensure that what happened last night doesn’t happen again, then I need to test that theory.
One thing is certain—alcohol and stressful situations make for rotten bedfellows. I was so pent-up last night worrying about Izzie meeting my parents for the first time, and terrifiedabout how Enzo could show up and tell our father she wasn’t trustworthy, that I spent most of the night either drinking my weight in alcohol or finding an empty room where I could lose myself in Izzie.
The thing that put all my stress and anxiety over the edge was seeing Stella cry. I reverted to the little, scared, scrawny kid I used to be, too afraid of my own shadow to protect my sister. All those memories came flooding back at full force, and I could do nothing except drown them away.
After that, the whole night was a blur. Until it wasn’t. Until my worst nightmare came to life.
“Hey, you ready?” Jude says, twenty minutes later, looking alert, ready at the door.
“I’m ready,” I say, stretching before we take off on our ten-mile run.
As we step out, March’s crisp air of the night is enough to awaken every muscle. It hits me sharp and clean, a promise to flush out all of last night’s toxins.
“Let’s start with a jog and sprint once we’ve warmed up,” Jude says, to which I nod.
We take off, side by side in the middle of the empty street, the cool night air a welcomed caress.
“We haven’t done this in a while, huh?” Jude says beside me as if measuring his words.
“It’s been a while.” I nod.
“Yeah, maybe too long.” My forehead creases at the offhanded remark.
“What’s up with you today? You’ve been acting odd all morning.”
Jude looks at me before staring straight ahead onto the road. “I didn’t ask you out for a run just because I felt like reminiscing on old times, Marcello.”
“Okay. So why did you ask me to run with you this morning?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Remember what?”
“Shit,” he curses under his breath, while never missing a step. “You said a lot of fucked-up shit to me yesterday when I brought you home. Don’t you remember?”
