Emilia (Part 1)(52)

The pads of his fingers swept down my ribcage, rounding my hips as he pulled my nipple into his mouth. His teeth and tongue tag teamed the sensitive point and my head rolled to the side, an exaggerated moan falling from my lips. Something about the softness of his mouth contrasting with the roughness of his teeth and stubble set me on fire.

“Oh, God, Sal.”

“I know. I know,” he mumbled and I could feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin.

My jittery hands fumbled with his belt buckle. The sound of clanking metal and the swoosh of leather echoed in the silence of my bedroom. I tugged on Sal’s zipper, fusing his mouth to mine. I released him from his pants, running my closed palm up and down his smooth velvet flesh, thick and hard. The instant his hand slipped inside my panties, I arched my hips greedy for more.

“Mmm,” I mumbled.

My eyes drifted closed, and I gave in to Sal. My engagement, kissing another man—all of it faded away like a hazy dream. We morphed into a flurry of tangled body parts, greedy hands, and seeking lips. Whimpers of need intertwined with stuttered breaths.

He nipped my ear. “Did it feel this good when he kissed you?”

All the heat building inside of me turned to ice, and I buried my hands in the silky-smooth duvet beneath me. Images of Marcello downstairs having a drink with my father freeze-framed through my brain, and the unease of my betrayal and dishonesty slithered through me. I had no intention of marrying Marcello, but being with Sal like this smacked of cheating, and something about that made me extremely uncomfortable. I wiggled my hips and pushed at his chest, trying to get out from underneath him.

“Sal,” I rasped, “we need to stop. We can’t do this.”

He raised his weight onto his forearms. “What's wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, it not that. It’s just that…you were right all along. Having sex with you right now would be a mistake.”

His eyes of a thousand different colors narrowed until all I could see were his black pupils. “What do you mean? You’re the one who told me we should do what we want. What’s changed?”

I dragged my hand up my forehead and smoothed back my hair. “I know. I know, but I wasn’t thinking clearly. We need to wait until we don't have all of this drama hanging over our heads.”

“This is about him. He charmed you into thinking he’s a good guy. That he’s not half bad.” He climbed to his feet, stuffing himself back into his pants. “God, Em. He's a prick. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but he brought his fucking mistress to your engagement party. Everyone knew it too. Think about that. You’re choosing him over me, and he doesn’t even respect you enough to break things off with her or come alone. If he can’t stomach being away from her for a few days, you can be damn sure he’ll shove her in your face every chance he gets after you’re married.”

“His mistress?”

My stomach tilted. What kind of sick game was Marcello playing? He gave me this whole speech about breaking things off with Sal, accepting the past and moving on with no hard feelings while his girlfriend was waiting outside the door.

“Yeah, the brunette in the emerald green dress. He's been seeing her for years, but he can't marry her. She’s not Italian. She’s some stripper from one of his clubs in Chicago, so if you're doing this for him, your loyalty is wildly misplaced. He doesn’t care about you. You’re a box to be checked on his way to becoming the head of the outfit.”

I yanked the throw blanket to my chin covering my trembling body, needing armor to conceal all the sickening emotions rioting inside of me. While I hadn’t changed my mind about marrying Marcello, my feelings toward him had softened. God, I was a horrible judge of character. Every word out of his mouth was a lie, and I didn’t have a clue. How pathetic. Part of me wanted to have sex with Sal solely to one up Marcello. I couldn’t be with him out of spite, though. I’d only be cheating Sal and me.

“I’m never going to marry him, so it doesn’t matter if he paraded every woman he’s ever touched in front of me. I don’t care.”

“Then, why are you pushing me away?” He paced beside the bed. “I care about you so damn much, Emilia. I’ve waited for you. I haven’t pushed you for more until now. What else do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. I trust you completely. But being with you tonight like this doesn’t feel right, especially when I stood in front of all of my friends and family a couple of hours ago and misled them into believing I would marry Marcello.” I swallowed hard, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “It feels dirty. I don’t want to taint our relationship with him. When we’re finally together, I want it to be about us and what we feel for each other. I’m not telling you it won’t happen until we’re out of this place, but I don’t want it to be a reaction to your jealousies or my insecurities.”