“No.”
“If I kissed you, I was going to take you. And I didn’t want a rush job in a closet.”
“If you can take me like this, you can take me.”
His lips were so soft on mine, his mouth so supple, his tongue gentle and sweet. He was slow, savoring every turn and twist of our mouths together. His hands landed on my cheeks and traveled down my neck, over my breasts. I groaned as a shudder went through me.
“I want you like this.” He leaned forward, guiding me onto the bed until I was on my back and he was on all fours over me. “And like this.” He kissed my chin and moved down to my breasts. “And this.” He put his lips on my scar. “Just like this.” He kissed my navel and below it. “God, I missed you.”
He parted my legs so tenderly yet so firmly that I knew he was still in charge, even if he wasn’t rough or demanding. He kissed between my legs, flicking his tongue over me. I hadn’t been touched in so long that my back arched, and I knew if he flicked it again— “Stop,” I gasped. “Wait.”
He looked up from below, his hand on my knee. “Why?”
“I want to see you. I thought about your first night home all the time. And I always imagined looking at you.”
He pecked the inside of my thigh and stood at the foot of the bed. His eyes grazed over me. I thought I’d feel more self-conscious about my scar and my little crookedness. I thought I’d have to apologize for being imperfect and overcome my physical inadequacy in his sight. But I didn’t feel the need for that at all. I felt warm and loved, whole and perfect before him.
He unbuttoned his shirt.
“Was it terrible in prison?” I asked.
“It wasn’t too bad. Boring mostly. And lonely.” He undid the cuffs, shrugged the shirt off, and tossed it over a chair.
“Is it true about the showers?”
He laughed.
“I’m serious!”
“You want to know if I took a bitch in the showers?”
Then I laughed. Of course he’d never imagined anyone would top him. Santa Claus would land on the roof first.
He got out of his pants and crawled over me. His erection pressed on my thigh, and I felt two completely separate longings. One for a deep, slow connection, and the other to be torn apart until I couldn’t speak.
“Well?” I said, running my hand over his chest. “I’d forgive you as long as he was ugly.”
“They’re all ugly. It’s in the food or something.”
“Except you.”
“I wasn’t really there. I was always here with you.” He ran his lips over mine. It wasn’t a kiss but a wakening of skin.
“Capo,” I said.
“Yes, Capo?” He kissed my cheek softly.
How did I go so long without feeling his breath in my ear? It was the most exciting and distracting thing ever.
I put my hands on his jaw and pushed his face to the front of mine so we were nose to nose. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“That you went to prison for me. I wouldn’t have let you, but you did. And I’m grateful to you and mad at myself at the same time.”
“I would do it again.”
“I hope you don’t have to. I want to give the whole thing away. I’ve set it up so it runs itself. Just let it go. I think I can divide it up nicely,” I said.
“Come vuoi tu.”
“We can talk about it.”
“No talking. Just do it.”
I hitched myself and wrapped my legs around him. “Come vuoi tu.”
He laughed softly. “Your accent, my God.”
“No more talking.” I rotated my hips, getting myself against his length.
He shifted, getting the head of his dick against me. He pushed forward, and I pushed against him. I’d forgotten about his size, and I laughed.
“What?” he asked.
“I love you. Now, fuck me already.”