“Sal…please,” I rasped, not even sure what I wanted. He knew, though. His hand moved faster, curling upward. My mind whirled, the tension inside of me on the brink of becoming unbearable. Then a white blaze of light detonated behind my eyelids. My muscles tensed, and my toes curled. A moan smothered by a cry split my lips, and he kept going until the tingling sensation died out.
I went limp, and he buried his head in the crook of my neck. “Jesus, Emilia. That was…” His kissed the underside of my ear.
“I know,” I finished for him because all I could think about was starting over from the beginning again, and committing each sensation to memory so I’d never forget it.
A knock sounded at the door, and Sal sat up, gently putting my dress back in place. “That’s probably the food. I’ll answer it and get everything ready while you finish getting dressed. We don’t have much time to eat before I need to drive you home.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his silver belt buckle, my hands trembling. “I want to do something for you too. I could touch you or something else.”
“Not tonight.” He scrambled to his feet, putting a solid five feet between us. “This was about you. I don’t want…” He ran his hand through his already messy hair. “Let’s stop while we’re ahead.”
I licked my lips, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “Why not? I know I’m inexperienced, but isn’t that what normally happens?”
“Because…” He grabbed his suit jacket and stuffed his arms in the sleeves. “We can’t let things go too far, and if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget all the reasons why touching you is a terrible idea. Marcello and your dad…” He swallowed. “This won’t end well.”
A knock thudded against the door again. Defeat swarmed inside of me. He was right. Until the moment I figured out my life and severed my connection to my father, my future didn’t belong to me.
“Then why do anything at all? After my birthday, you turned into a giant asshole, then all of a sudden you like me. I don’t get it? Why the change of heart?”
He sighed heavily and scrubbed his hand down his face. “When I’m around you, I don’t care about the consequences, but we need to be smart about this. Both of us have a lot to lose if this blows up in our faces.”
“I don’t want to stop this. Whatever it is.”
His hands swallowed the sides of my face, and he kissed me again. I didn’t want him to stop. Ever. I couldn’t find the words to explain how it felt to be wanted like this after years of being ignored by my family and hidden away from my peers.
“Neither do I, but we can’t take this too far. Not yet anyway.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I sat at the kitchen table, the envelope Lorenzo gave me wedged between my knees. Nearly an entire week had passed, and I hadn’t mustered the courage to discuss the contents with my dad. Mrs. Vitali brought it up at every lesson last week, and I was afraid I was going to be the cause of her early demise if I didn’t give her any answer one way or another this afternoon.
All of our conversations to date went the same way. She’d ask if I made a decision. I’d say no and refuse to elaborate. She’d mutter a few words punctuated by a sigh, and I wouldn’t lie. Her sighs grated on me. She was one of those uniquely annoying people who wielded sighs rather than words as a weapon. I had to get this over with today for my sanity and hers.
Fingering the already worn corner of the packet, I focused on my dad. His eyes glued to his iPad, he chewed bite after bite of cereal.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
The sound rattled around in my ears, chiding me to grow some balls and get this over with.
What was the worst that could happen? He could say no. That’s all, and then I’d be right back where I started, searching for a way out of the arranged marriage looming over me like the specter of death, only this time I had Sal on my side, and he had promised to help me.
“Dad?” My voice sounded rusty.
He rested his spoon against the side of the bowl, lasering me with his dark eyes, one brow arched in a sharp “v”, which was fitting since he often played the villain in my life. “Yes?”
I hadn’t so much as uttered more than a single word since he failed to show up at my performance. Tired of balancing on the knife’s edge, I swallowed back my fears. I needed to know whether I had a shot at going to San Luigi. A “no” would hurt, but the beating around the bush and living in a dreamlike reality of what-ifs threatened my mental well-being. I needed to rip off the proverbial bandage and face reality.