Emilia (Part 1)(51)

I lifted the pearls over my head, and Sal caught my arm midway.

“Leave on the pearls and take off the ring.”

I glanced at the perfectly proportioned diamond ring on my hand. I hadn’t thought about it once since Marcello slipped it on my finger. It was weird how little time I’d spent with him, and yet, he managed to read me so well. I loved the jewelry he gave me. The engagement ring was delicate enough that it wouldn’t interfere with playing the piano. He indulged my weird sense of humor in our letters. And his kiss…well, it’d never happen again, which meant I needed to erase it from my mind.

“You don’t like it?” I lifted my hand and wiggled my fingers, trying to make light of the whole thing.

“No.” His voice was strangled. Rage glimmered in his eyes, overshadowing his usually handsome features. His cheeks were flushed and his neck corded. I inched backward, swimming in a sea of unexpected anxiety.

We stood a few feet apart. The air in my room felt chilly, and I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms. “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“Mad? I don’t know. You tell me. Should I be mad at you? Would you be mad if I was hanging all over another woman in front you?”

Ducking my head, I stared at the polka dot rug beneath my feet. “Sal, you knew what was going to happen today. It’s not like I kept anything from you,” I whispered, feeling like I should say more or have a better excuse, only nothing came to mind. We both knew the score. We both knew the rules. I never made any promises about tonight.

He cursed under his breath, stalking toward me, pausing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. I angled my torso away from him, anticipating a verbal assault. When he didn’t speak, I looked up. The anger pulsing out of him felt dirty and thick, and it stuck all over me like a wet blanket.

Sal murmured, “I couldn’t stand seeing his hands and lips on you, Em. I wanted to kill him. Tear him apart with my bare hands. Can you imagine the crazy shit going through my head?” He captured a strand of my hair, curling it around his finger.

I swallowed hard, barely able to complete the action. “I did what I had to.”

“Are you having second thoughts? Did you change your mind about marrying him? If that’s what you want, I won’t fight you.” He tipped his head to the ceiling, his face bleak, his shoulders bunched tight. “Fuck, even saying that makes me sick to my stomach.”

“No, Sal.” I tugged on the lapels of his jacket so tight like I could force him to retract his gallant offer. I didn’t want gallant. I wanted someone who’d fight for me at any cost. “How could you think that? Do you have any idea how much I lo—” I paused mid-word. “How much you mean to me?”

“I tried so hard, Em. I honestly did. But I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Wait for what?” I choked out.

“I need you. All of you. I need to know you’re mine. I want you so damn much. I’d do anything for you. If you only knew how you’ve changed me…” He pulled me closer to him.

I sucked in a breath as his lips came within millimeters of mine. My promise to Marcello rattled around in my brain like an omen. A chill whizzed down my spinal column, and I shoved aside the trickle of guilt and focused on Sal. On us. On this flicker in time.

With a sliver of the fading daylight peeking through my blinds, his hands circled me, slowly releasing the zipper at the back of my dress. The soft buzz sounded more pronounced in my ears, almost as if my father and anyone else lingering on the floor below us could hear it. Or sense it.

He pushed the dress from my arms, and it pooled on the black and white rug, a lacy lavender wreath around my ankles. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, my arms went to my small breasts, hiding them from his greedy gaze.

“You’re so damn beautiful, Em. I can’t believe you’re real.”

He removed the gun holster from his waist and shrugged out of his suit jacket and snowy white dress shirt. A dark thatch of hair stretched from the bottom of his navel, arrowing into the waistband of his pants. My fingers tingled with the need to touch him, and for the first time, I knew he wouldn’t deny me.

He lifted me, his hands gripping my hips, and I circled my legs around his waist. The warm skin of his hard chest met my breasts, soft against hard, and we both sucked in a breath. He marched me backward and laid me on the bed.

His tongue slid against the seam of my mouth. I opened eagerly, and he deepened the kiss. His hips rocking slowly between my thighs, I held tight to his waist. Ready to explode with need, Sal’s mouth skated down my neck, paying homage to the sensitive skin beneath my ear and at the hollow of my throat. My entire body vibrated with a mishmash of need and fear of the unknown.