Page 79 of Replay
“What part didn’t you hear?” he asks, confusion blanketing his face.
I shake my head from side to side, my entire body trembling. “I just…it’s only been a few weeks.” Is it okay for people to fall in love in a few weeks?
“I know,” he says with a resounding sigh.
“You said you’ve never been in love before.” I point an accusing finger at him, like this can’t possibly be true.
“I know.” A nervous grin teases the corners of his mouth as he watches me process this admission.
“So this is…”
“Real.” He takes a step towards me, crowding me as his face grows serious again.
“Right.” I turn and touch my temple, feeling a rush of adrenaline hit me out of nowhere as I begin to pace. “You just said you loved me.”
“Yes.”
I glance over at him. “I thought we were taking things slow?”
“I know.” He winces.
I stop moving and prop my hands on my hips, a stinging happening in the backs of my eyes that I cannot seem to get a handle on. This is all happening really fast. Yet everything feels like it’s going in slow motion as well. My chest swells with anxiety because there’s been a feeling creeping up inside me for days, a feeling of comfort and giddiness. A feeling like there’s a reason I came back to London and it wasn’t just to help out Mac and Freya.
I’ve been ignoring these feelings because I’m not the type of person who free-falls into the great unknown. Especially not after everything I’ve worked for these past five years. I like to stay in control of myself. I like to stay in control of my emotions. And what I’m about to say feels very, very uncontrolled.
Finally, I nod firmly, answering with a shaky breath. “Okay then.”
“Okay?” He looks confused.
“Well, I’m pretty much madly in love with you too, which is terrifying because I told myself when I came back to London that I’d focus entirely on me and my family, but then you came barreling back into my life with your stupid basil plant and messed that plan all up.” I accentuate my point with a really elegant growl of frustration that truly punctuates the special moment.
Santino blinks back at me, his eyes dark and terrified in a way I’ve never seen before. “Did you just say you love me?”
“Yes!” I exclaim. “And I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, so this is a lot of pressure right now, and I’m having a wee bit of a panic attack.”
Suddenly, Santino closes the space between us and picks me up in his arms, so our faces are eye level. “Say it again.”
“It was hard enough the first time.” He growls his insistence as I sigh in defeat, my voice thick with emotion when I add, “I love you, you eejit.” My entire body tingles with warmth over the intensity of that admission. “I didn’t particularly love you marching in here and threatening to out our relationship to my brother without a second thought, but I love you, so I guess I’ll get over that.”
His lips are on mine now, attacking my words with hungry ferocity as he carries me over to the bed and lays down on top of me. His hard body is like the best weighted blanket money could ever buy as he kisses me fervently, his hands stroking my flushed cheeks and cupping the back of my neck to deepen the kiss.
My legs wrap around him, and I hug him to me, relishing this moment of innocence. Of passion. Intimacy is supposed to feel like this. Raw, vulnerable. An unpainted building, waiting for someone to splatter it with beautiful, original, untraditional art.
“Santino, I want you,” I say, breaking our kiss and reaching between us to fumble with his trousers. “I want you to make love to me.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, searching my eyes for confirmation. “We don’t have to.”
I cup his erection in my hand and nod firmly. “I’m sure.”
In a flash, Santino lifts himself off me, and we both ditch our clothes in record time. His cock bobs towards me, long and strong and probably waiting for this moment for far longer than it wanted to.
When he pulls a condom out of his wallet, I take it from him, sliding it over his immense length with pleasure. I grip it and stare up at him with wide, wanting eyes. “I want to feel alive again. Loved and cherished. Not broken.”
“You’re not broken,” he says, coming down over me and kissing my lips passionately. “And you are so cherished.”
My heart, my belly, my mind, my everything are on overload. I need this. I need it now.
I scoot myself up to the head of the bed, and the mattress dips as he positions himself between my legs. Holding on to his back, I tell him in a shaky voice, “You’ll probably need to go slow at first.”
