Full lips, soft and lush, brushed his. She cradled his face in her delicate hands and her fragrance, sweet as vanilla and crisp as a field of flowers in spring, unfurled in his nostrils. When he parted his lips to speak, her kiss greeted him. The tip of her tongue flicked the roof of his mouth before plunging inside in a tantalizing swirl that left him breathless, desperate and needy. No woman has said the word love to him since she died.
Giovanni drank the sweetness of her kiss, reclined into a stack of pillows with her breasts pressed against his chest. His senses reeled as if short-circuiting. His pulse raced and thoughts of loss, heartache, and lonely pain mixed in with this dreamlike reality. No. This wasn’t a dream. It was the death he prayed for. He found her again on the other side and he was free to have the love they shared for eternity.
Tightness coiled in his groin, and he could feel it bulk underneath the soft press of her sex. Her hands pushed gently against his shoulders, and her body covered his, keeping him conveniently in place. Now he felt loved. Whether she said it lately or not, he felt it deeply.
“Mirabella,” he breathed through their kiss. His beautiful Mirabella had only been his for a brief time but she forever changed his heart, his desires, and his peace of mind.
Her lush thighs, and the sweet moist center under the petals of her sex, buffeted him in warmth with her straddling his waist and moving in a lovely slow slide along his erection. The longing and desire he suffered day in and day out burned away his hope for them two years ago. How could she be dead when she was in his arms once more? To answer his question Mira released him from her teasing kisses and her head lifted. She smiled down at him. The smooth brown skin of her oval face held pale golden undertones. Eyes the deepest shade of hazel brown shone with brilliance, reflecting her forgiveness under a dark ring of lashes. Her slender nose and full lips rounded out the face of an angel.
“I’m yours. You’re safe with me,” Mira said.
“I lost you.”
“Shhh…” Mira pressed her finger to his lips and kissed his brow. “Have faith. Please Giovanni, for us.”
Giovanni blinked awake. The darkness of his room was complete. There wasn’t a sliver of light to focus on. He lay perfectly still staring into the empty void swallowing him. He waited for an eternity until his heart stabilized. It was the same dream, with her again reminding him to have faith.
He had none.
In the dark he dropped his hand to the side of the bed and wiggled his fingers in search of the wine bottle he’d turned to for comfort. He didn’t feel it. His head was weighed down with a throbbing headache reaching his temples and hammering the inner walls of his skull. Thanks to the late night binge he couldn’t summon the strength to lift it. Instead he turned over to his side and closed his eyes once more. This time he prayed he didn’t dream.
****
Fish saw them. Two tall, mean-looking motherfuckers in long dark coats headed his way. Then he caught the sneer of Lorenzo Battaglia and knew instantly who they were. He leapt to his feet shoving a waitress so hard she fell backward on to the table behind her. Running toward the side exit he pushed other patrons out of his way and didn’t bother to look back, but he heard Lorenzo and Carlo knock over chairs and tables in pursuit of him. How the fuck did they find him?
The titty club was located in the seedy countryside of Bologna. He’d only been back in Italy for two days. A trip he made because of his ailing mother. He kept his head low and his business short during his stay. Tonight would have been more of the same if he hadn’t had a raging hard-on for a dancer named Kamilla. He lost his woman to Angelo after his life went to hell. Kamilla was the closest beauty he’d seen next to hers.