“Luca?” Her mouth didn’t want to work right.
“Right here, bit. Right here.” He came through the bead curtain. He was dressed, wearing his jeans and his blue shirt, which was unbuttoned, revealing his chest and belly. She was completely naked.
Manny felt dizzy with memory and sensation, all of it on her at once, like every minute of the night before was happening to her at the same time.
“Manny. Talk to me. How’re you feeling?”
She looked up at him—his eyes were wide and intense, and she realized that he was scared. So she thought about an answer to his question. “Um. My head hurts. I’m a little confused. And my tongue is sticky.”
He squatted next to the bed. “Do you feel sick?” She did a status check and shook her head. He handed her a bottle of water that she hadn’t noticed him holding. “Confused how, bit?”
She opened the bottle and drank a lot of the water at one go. It tasted fucking fantastic. When she needed a breath, she thought again about how to answer him. “Like I’m reliving last night all at once.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t think so.”
He relaxed so quickly his shoulders seemed to deflate. “You remember?”
Manny closed her eyes. She remembered all of it, and as she was waking fully up, the memories were sorting themselves into chronological order.
Holy shit. Holy shit! She could still feel him. It was like she could still feel him on her. She could remember how good he’d felt, and she could still feel him, like phantom traces all over her body.
But not spiders.
With that thought, she had another memory, from early in the night, when he’d moved his hands up her legs. His rough hands moving up her legs. Making her tingle.
But not spiders.
Butterflies.
Last night, as she’d lain on the sofa and he’d caressed her legs, when her brain had tried to tell her about the spiders, a tiny, much cooler Manny had strolled into her head like a teensy punk Alice in Wonderland and said Silly. Luca doesn’t have spiders. Luca has butterflies.
“Butterflies.”
“Please? Manny—what? Are you sick?”
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud, but she was excited, so she said it again. “Butterflies! Luca—butterflies!”
He stood up, looking alarmed. “Manny, what can I do?”
“No, no. I’m okay. Why—why weren’t you in bed with me?”
He cocked his head warily. “I didn’t want you to be scared to wake up with me so close. I went to the sofa a few hours ago.”
“I want you in bed with me.”
He took a step backwards. “What?”
“Luca. I think it’s okay. I think my brain did something new last night. Please.” She stretched out her arms to him. “Please.”
He just stood there. “Jesus Christ, Manny.” His voice broke. “Are you sure?”
She wasn’t sure. But she thought so. There wasn’t that stutter in her head at the thought of his touch. She looked up at him, at his hands clenched at his sides, and remembered the way his hands had felt last night.
Butterflies.
“I won’t be sure until you get your dork ass down here and let me fucking try. Please.”
Still he stood there, looking scared and conflicted. Manny found it disconcerting to see him look so scared. Her big, macho he-man guy. Her guy. “Luca, I’m begging over here.”
“You gonna break my heart, little bit?” But he finally came to the bed and sat down on the edge.
She was as scared as he looked. But she rose up on her knees and scooted up behind him, taking the collar of his shirt in her hands and pulling. He shrugged his shoulders to help her get it off. She tossed his shirt to the floor, then hooked her hands around his bicep and pulled gently, trying to encourage him to turn.
He did, shifting his seat on the bed, and she sat on his lap, putting her arms loosely around his neck. One of his hands gripped the side of the bed, the other was flat and tense on her comforter.
“Dude, this only works as a test if you put your hands on me.”
“I don’t want to lose more, Manny. Don’t push yourself.”
“I’m only pushing a little. I think there’s a window here, though, and I don’t think it’s open forever. Don’t be a pussy.”
He laughed. “You know, pretty sure you’re the only person who’s called me a pussy in…ever.”
“Then come on. Be tough.”
With his eyes locked with hers, steady and intense, he lifted his arms and put his hands on her. Lightly, on her back. For a few seconds, he held them still, and she was glad of that, because she needed those seconds to chant butterflies, butterflies, butterflies in her head until the image in her mind was of just that—they were purple and blue and yellow. They were beautiful. They were good.
Luca would probably hate how girly that image was. The thought made her smile, and when he saw it, his shoulders relaxed markedly, and his hands moved on her back.
She closed her eyes and made herself focus on the feel of him. Her head still hurt, quite a bit, but that even seemed to help her, like it reminded her of last night. But after a while, she could feel herself filling up with his touch. It was becoming too much. Too many butterflies.
Though she was trying to power through that in the way she’d always powered through unpleasant touches, she must have tensed, because Luca’s hands stopped. “Manny?”
She opened her eyes. “Harder touch. Harder is better. Not hurting, just harder.”
He nodded and then surprised her by gripping her tightly and rolling them both, so she was lying on her back and he was hovering over her, lying partially on her. For a microsecond, she was afraid—but no, this was good. His weight on her was good. She remembered the deep peace she’d felt last night, when, after every round of fucking, he’d lain on her as he caught his breath. It had never occurred to her that such heavy pressure—so heavy that she was almost buried in the mattress—would cross through the barrier completely. It wasn’t painful. But it was stilling. It quieted her insides like it held her outsides.
“Talk to me, Manny.” His eyes searched her face.
“I’m okay. I like this. There was a second where it was getting to be too much, but I’m okay now.” She was more than okay. Memories of the night before were on her again, and they were good. They made her squirm with need.
She reached for his fly, and he flinched, his brow furrowing as he stared down at her. But he didn’t say anything. She was glad—talking would distract her, and focusing on last night was helping her. Maybe even propping the window open.
His fly was all buttons. When she worked them open, she reached in and took hold of the cock she already knew was hard. He shifted so that she could pull him out of his jeans, but otherwise, he simply hovered over her, watching her face. When she circled him and slid her fist up his length, though, his eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, his belly and chest filling with it, pressing against her.
“Fuck me, Luca.”
He nodded and hooked his arm under her knee, drawing her leg up. He let her guide him into her, and then he took over.
“God, Manny. This is good?”
“Yeah.” It was beyond good. There was no fear or weird tension anymore. No vigilance against an unexpected touch. There was just Luca, inside her. Filling her. Making her nerves sing instead of scream. He thrust, and with a moan she lifted her hips to meet him. “For you?”
He chuckled, but it came out more like a groan. “You’re answering a prayer, bit. Literally.”
“You prayed to be able to fuck me like this?”
“What can I say? The Lord is my wingman.” He pushed deep and held.
“Dork.” She could feel his body shaking on hers, under her hands. “Are you okay?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Not sure I can make this one last. I’m on emotional overload, and it’s making me impatient.”
She liked that. It was wicked
hot—that he needed her so much. And she was curious to watch him. So she said so. “That’s hot, that you can’t hold off. Go for it.”
He bent down and kissed her fiercely. Until last night, Manny had always kissed him—determining when, how hard, how long—and he had followed her lead. She’d been missing out. There was so much more sensation to following. Of course, the sensation was the scary thing. Had been the scary thing. Maybe wasn’t any longer.
Still kissing her, he surged into her, and then picked up a deep, rocketing rhythm, grunting with every thrust. She’d wanted to watch him; she hadn’t thought her head would make way to let her come if he went quickly, but he was so big, going so deep and fast, that her need caught fire, and she began to move with him.
When she did, he groaned and then shifted, bringing his hand between them. Again, she had a moment of uncertainty, but then his fingers found her clit and pressed hard on it, picking up their rhythm, and her brain went utterly quiet. Only her body spoke.
He came first, shouting her name, but it was okay, because he was hard, and his hand was on her, and she came not even a minute later, her throat roughening from her swallowed scream.
His head dropped to her chest, and he let his body rest on hers. They were quiet, holding each other.
After a minute or so, feeling full of touch again, and sensing that a freakout was on the horizon, she patted his back. “Luca. I need some space.”
He lifted off and out of her without delay and shifted to his side at her side. “Do you need more space than this? You want me to get up?”
She searched her mind and body for the answer. Then she scooted about two inches farther away. “Okay. That’s enough space.” She grabbed his hand and put it on her belly.
She could breathe, and her body was still, even under his hand.
“Are you okay, bit? Are we?”
She turned to him. His eyes were beautiful—and serious. He was worried again. “I’m okay. I think I’m a little better. For real. For you, at least, I think I’m a little better.”
He closed his eyes. Then he leaned in and kissed her shoulder, backing off immediately thereafter. It had felt good. She’d liked the brush of his beard on her skin.
“I love you, Luca.”
He sighed. “You’re all about the answered prayers this morning, little bit.”
oOo
“That’s enough whipped cream, I think.”
Manny looked at the slice of peach pie that she’d just buried in spray whipped cream. She turned and grinned at Sabina. “Sorry. Got carried away. I like this stuff. It’s fun.”
Sabina smiled. “That’s yours, then. But less on the others, maybe?”
“Okay.” Manny focused on making pretty little dabs of white goo on top of the other pieces of pie.
Feeling strong and almost normal since she’d woken up that morning and pulled Luca into her bed to have touchy sex and hadn’t gone completely postal, she’d asked him to see if they could go to his family’s house for dinner. He’d stared at her like maybe he thought she’d really lost it and gone all the way crazy, but then he’d smiled and called his brother.
Carlo. Who had not said Fuck no, keep that bonkers bitch out of my house. He had apparently said Sure, come on over. Bring pie.
It was a small group, Pagano-wise. Rosa had gone back to college. John was out with his girl. Carmen was in upstate New York for some kind of work thing. So it was just Carlo, Sabina, Carlo Sr., his lady friend, Adele, whom everybody called Mrs. D., Joey, and them. Oh, and Trey.
That was still a lot of people, really.
Honestly, Carlo had nothing to worry about regarding Manny and Trey. The only way she’d do harm to him was if somebody were ever dumb enough to leave her in charge of him and she forgot to pay attention. Or if he got caught collaterally during a rage-out. Both cases could pretty well be avoided, as long as she wasn’t alone with him. Refer to item number one: she should not be put in charge of the kid.
For the same reason Manny wasn’t a pet person, she wasn’t a kid person, either. She didn’t respond to them with that whole oh look, so cute, I must cuddle and protect thing. Empathy wasn’t a thing she had. Anticipating someone else’s needs was not a thing she did, at least not naturally, instinctively. So somebody who couldn’t tell her, with words, what he/she/it wanted or needed—not a good match for her. She’d been hugely relieved when Luca had told her that he was happy being an uncle.
She barely noticed the kid, except at the dinner table, when he led most of the conversation, talking about his first week of kindergarten and some boy named Aiden, and whatever. She hadn’t paid a lot of attention. While he chattered and everybody encouraged him, Manny looked around. Well, actually, she watched Luca.
Luca, she could read. She felt like she got better at that every day. And he was happy, here in this house, at this table, with these people. She’d pulled him away from this, and he’d barely complained at all. She hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t even known. But now she did. If she wanted him, then she had to find a place here. And she wanted him. Not only did she love him in a way she’d never even understood love before, but she liked herself better with him. He, like, made her a better person. Or something.
Carlo was being decent tonight. He still lurked around her if she got too close to his kid, and he wasn’t exactly chatting her up or suggesting they take up a hobby together, but he paid attention if she said something, and he smiled vaguely when their eyes met. Since their only real exchange before this had been more of an argument than anything, she didn’t think anything she’d done had persuaded him to be civil. Maybe Luca was right, and Sabina had laid down some kind of law.
Manny liked Sabina. She was like this calm, gorgeous good fairy. Maybe she hadn’t laid down the law. Maybe she’d just enchanted Carlo.
Either way, this dinner she’d insisted they invite themselves over for was turning out okay. The meal, some kind of thing with pork chops and rice, was decent. They had their pie, and then Carlo took Trey upstairs for bed. Carlo Sr. took Adele to her house next door.
Luca, Joey, and Sabina had exchanged looks when he’d announced that he was walking her home and then escorted her out the back door. When Manny asked, Luca leaned over and said, “He won’t be home again for…a while.”
Oh, she got it. She laughed, and the siblings laughed with her.
Joey added, “What a…waste…of a perfectly good…confession.”
Manny hadn’t gotten that one, but Luca and Sabina thought it was hilarious. She punched Luca in the arm. And he turned, rubbing his bicep and grinning. “Yeah, bit?”
“What’s funny?”
“Pop goes to confession every Saturday. To be absolved of his sins before communion at Mass on Sunday. But he’s sinning again tonight. Get it?”
“The Catholic thing is just weird.” They all thought that was funny, too.
But then Luca stopped laughing and, hesitating only slightly, laid his hand on her thigh. She tensed, but then she thought butterflies and, as if that word had become a magic spell, she was okay. “Come to Mass with me tomorrow.”
“What? Luca, I’m not Catholic. I’m not anything, really.” Her parents were Episcopalian. But religion was pretty much a mystery to her, and her few personal associations weren’t great. Early on, her parents had tried a kind of attachment therapy at a center that had a religious affiliation. There was a lot of praying and a lot of forced touching. And holding—of the restraint variety. It had gone badly and had given Manny a lasting mistrust. One of her legion of mistrusts.
“I don’t think the crucifix over the altar will catch fire if you enter the church, bit. It’s just a boring service. But we’re all together. And it’s a pretty church. Lots of color and stuff to look at.”
His expression was so…eager. He was having a good day, too. So she rolled her eyes. “Okay. But if the crucifix catches fire, I’m totally saying I told you so.”
He grinned like a dork. “Deal.” Then he scanned the table.
“Hey—Scopa when Carlo gets back down?”
“There’s…five of us.” Joey shook his head. Manny noticed that he wasn’t wearing the cannula in his nose. She wondered if that meant he was doing better, or if he just breathed easier at home.
“We can play with five.”
“What’s Scopa?”
Sabina answered her. “It is this game that they play. With cards. They get very excited. There is yelling.” She smiled. “It’s fun.”
Luca turned to her. “She’s right. It’s fun.” Joey was nodding, too.
“Okay, I’m in. I hope it’s not like poker. I suck at poker. But easy on the yelling, okay?”
Touch (The Pagano Family Book 2) Page 25