by A. Zavarelli
“Can you explain how he’s mean to you?” I ask.
Nino hesitates, and he still won’t look at me. “He gets mad at me because he says I don’t talk, but I always answer him. Sometimes he pinches my arm or squeezes my face. He says I’m weak, and I need to be strong like him, but I don’t know how.”
He’s on the verge of tears by the time he gets the words out, and I’m in too much shock to comprehend it. I can’t imagine Enzo doing any of those things. If I consider that Nino is a quiet, introverted child, much like I was, Enzo has always been the opposite. He is the charmer. He’s loud and free with his thoughts, consequences be damned. It triggers a memory long forgotten when we were in school together, and he would get on my case about talking more. He told me it was the only way I’d get some action, and everyone would think I was weak if I didn’t. I ignored him as I often did, letting Enzo get his say in because he’d usually forget about it five minutes later. But it bothered me then the way I can see it bothers Nino now.
“Thank you for being honest,” I tell Nino. “Leave this with me for now. We can revisit it later.”
“Does that mean I have to go this Sunday?” he asks.
“No. We will skip this weekend.”
He sits back against the seat and peers over the water again. “Thank you, Alessio.”
We are both quiet for the remainder of the ride. I’m lost in my thoughts, and Nino observes everything from a bird’s eye view with keen interest. When we disembark, he asks if we can go to the carousel, and I cave to that request too. After several of the longest rides of my life, he decides he’s hungry, so we stop for a frankfurter on the pier and find a bench to eat them on.
By the time we leave, the sun is starting to set. I’m considering what else we might do for the remainder of the evening when he informs me he has homework. I ask him if he wants my help, and he says he can do it by himself. Before we go our separate ways at the house, he gives me another hug.
“I hope we can go again,” he says.
“We will,” I answer gruffly.
He heads upstairs, and I take a sauna and a cold plunge in an attempt to clear my head. It usually helps, but in this case, my thoughts only seem more complicated. I realize it’s almost Nino’s bedtime when I check the clock, and I need to get him ready.
Upstairs, his door is cracked, and the sound of the TV floats out into the hall. When I ease it open, I’m surprised to see him and Natalia on the bed together, tears staining both their cheeks as they watch the screen credits roll.
“What’s going on?” I demand.
They both look at me, and Nino sniffles at the same time Natalia does.
“ET had to go home,” Nino says.
I stare at them in confusion. “The movie?”
Nino nods.
Natalia signs something to him, and he looks back at me. “But it’s okay. Natalia says he’s safe. It’s just that goodbyes are hard.”
I don’t even know how to deal with that, so I jerk my chin in agreement. For a second, Natalia’s eyes clash with mine, and I find myself wishing I could speak her language right now because there’s so much I want to say.
“I did my homework,” Nino informs me.
Natalia and I both glance at him.
“Okay, well, it’s time for bed. Did you brush your teeth yet?”
“Already did,” he says. “Natalia told me I should get ready after homework if I want to watch the movie.”
“Alright, well …” I linger awkwardly. “I came to say goodnight.”
“Good night, Alessio.” He climbs under the covers and flashes a dimple at me. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
14
Natalia
I say goodnight to Nino and follow Alessio into the hall, fully expecting more of his wrath. I was supposed to have the day off, but I wanted to spend time with Nino this evening. At this point, I have no idea what Alessio’s mood will be like, and it’s difficult to discern from his expression.
“I need to talk to you,” he says.
I nod, and we both enter my room together. It feels natural to have conversations in here, even though it probably shouldn’t. I wanted to put distance between us, but it only seems to irritate him more. By some small miracle, he still hasn’t learned about the knife incident, and I can only imagine how he’ll react when he does. Though I’ve made multiple attempts to retrieve it, I’ve been impeded by his locked bedroom door. That discovery was admittedly another blow to my fragile heart.
I know I need to leave this place. I need to do it soon. Every day I remain here, waiting for him to discover the truth, I’m playing with fire. There is no doubt in my mind he’ll kill me without a second thought when he figures out my real motives, but there’s a part of me that has been lulled into a false sense of security here. Some days, it feels as if there’s no safer place for me than in the heart of my enemy’s home. I can watch his every move. I can learn more about him. Those activities come with an unwelcomed side effect though. The more I learn, the more I warm to him.
I walk to the nightstand to grab my phone. Usually, I have it on me, but Nino and I have been working overtime on his ASL, and not having it gives us the chance to find creative ways to learn new words.
“I want to revisit our conversation from earlier,” Alessio informs me.
His discomfort is obvious, and I know I need to fix this. I let my emotions overtake me before, and I can’t do that again. I’m on the verge of issuing an apology when he continues.
“I think, perhaps, I was a bit harsh.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I will admit that you struck a nerve. I take Nino’s care seriously, despite what it may look like. I have done the best I could with the skills I have, but I can see that I have failed him in some ways. Your blunt observations did not sit well with me, because they were so accurate.”
The turmoil in his eyes triggers an overwhelming sense of guilt in me. I know he’s being honest and sincere. He cares about Nino, and I think that somehow makes it both better and worse. It would be easier if he didn’t, but it’s better for Nino’s sake that he does.
My delivery was not what it should have been, I write. I’m sorry, Alessio. I know you have taken great measures to protect and care for Nino. I allowed my feelings to cloud my judgment, and I lashed out at you for it.
“What do you mean your feelings?” His voice betrays his concern.
I stare at the keypad, wondering if this is a mistake. I shouldn’t be so honest with him, but I think at this point, it can’t hurt.
You said what happened with me was a mistake, and admittedly, it struck a nerve with me too. I should not have allowed my feelings about that to interfere with our professional relationship, but I did.
His eyes soften. “I didn’t realize you’d heard that.”
It was hard not to, I reply. It might be a little white lie, but the truth is, I probably would have heard it no matter what.
“Things with Gwen are complicated,” he says. “Sometimes, it’s easier to tell her what she wants to hear.”
He’s not denying that he meant it, and I can’t tell if he did. More than anything, it feels like Gwen is an excuse not to divulge his feelings on the matter. The truth is, he’s locking his door for a reason, and I know it’s to keep me out.
We stand there, staring at each other, uncertainty lingering between us. I’m not going to make myself vulnerable again, but it’s hard to deny that I can see he still wants me, no matter what he might say. Every time he’s near me, I can feel it. This energy between us has a mind of its own.
“I suppose I should let you get some sleep,” he tells me.
Goodnight, Alessio.
“Goodnight.” He utters the word back to me but doesn’t go. He’s standing there like he can’t move, like he doesn’t want to.
I don’t know what to say. Clearly, he doesn’t either. When he struggles to pull himself away at times like this, it makes me feel like I’m not crazy for imagining there could be
more. For a second, just a split second, I wonder if it would ever be safe to reveal my truth to him.
“Alright.” He turns abruptly and leaves without another word.
I release a deep breath and wander into the bathroom to begin my evening ritual of brushing my teeth and washing my face. I strip out of my clothes and change into a tank and shorts, and then I find myself staring at my reflection in the mirror. The scars that litter my body have left me with a permanent reminder of the worst day of my life. For so long, I have cringed when I see them. I have avoided looking at myself out of disgust, and I can’t help wondering if Alessio feels conflicted about them too.
I lift my shirt, fingers moving over the deep red mutilations scattered across my torso. When I touch them, I still feel the pain as if it were yesterday. I’m dead inside all over again. I close my eyes and my shoulders shake with emotion. I hate that it still has power over me. I have done so much work to overcome, rise above it, and still, it is not enough.
A warm hand settles over mine, and I blink in surprise, horrified to find Alessio standing behind me. Our gazes lock in the mirror, and my first instinct is to hide the evidence, wipe away the moisture at the edges of my eyes, but he’s already seen it, and he stills my hand when I try.
“They are only scars,” he murmurs against my hair as his fingers move over one of the raised red lines. “Wear them like a badge of honor. Show the world you are a survivor. There is nothing to be ashamed of.”
I shiver beneath his touch, his body pressed so close to mine. I don’t know why he came back, or how long he must have been standing there, observing my self-flagellation. Part of me thinks I should care, but the tenderness of his touch steals that rational thought. I feel safe in his arms right now, and it’s unexpected. Terrifying even. Still, I take refuge against him, allowing him to shelter me from my storm.
He strokes every jagged line, closing his eyes as he leans into my hair and inhales me again. If there was ever a question in my mind about his attraction, the evidence is undeniable now. His hard cock is pressed against my back, and in response, my body begins to ache for more. More of everything. More of anything. I could stand here all night with him stroking my skin.
“I shouldn’t have come back here.” He circles his arm around my waist and pulls me closer. “You’re making me break all my rules.”
I lean my head back against his shoulder, closing my eyes as his palm slips up beneath my tank to grope my breast. His fingers send tiny shocks through my nerve endings, and I squirm against him, desperate for him to keep going. I know it has to be him this time. He has to take the lead. I couldn’t handle his rejection now. Not tonight. Alessio seems to understand that, or maybe he’s just done pretending.
He kisses his way over my jaw and then tilts my face up to his. Our lips collide, and our tongues clash. The time for exploration is done. Alessio is unleashing himself, transforming from the silent, methodical killer to a man whose passion burns hotter than the sun.
I want him. Oh, God, do I want him. I’m done convincing myself otherwise, and when his other hand slips down into my shorts and between my thighs, he knows it too. He growls into my mouth as his fingers slide through my arousal, soaking him.
“This is for me.” His voice is hoarse but possessive.
I nod against him, and he releases his grip on my breast to reach down and hoist me up against his body, never removing his other hand from between my legs. The fact that he can carry me so easily should probably terrify me, but it doesn’t.
He hauls me into the bedroom, setting me down on the bed and tugging my shorts off. The loss of the warmth of his fingers leaves me achy and miserable, but those thoughts disappear as he drags my ass to the edge of the bed and lowers himself to his knees.
I watch him nervously as he splays my thighs apart, staring at the most vulnerable part of me with heated eyes. Nobody has ever been this intimate with me, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s an unsettling feeling, but when he dips forward and kisses me over my center, I forget everything else.
He drags his nose against my skin, inhaling me deeply, and a flush spreads over my chest.
“You smell so fucking good,” he growls. “I have to taste you.”
I release a silent whimper as his tongue lashes against me. There’s something so insanely hot about this powerful man on his knees before me, pleasuring me like I’m a goddess.
I want to say his name. It would be worth the pain to say it until my throat gives out, but I settle for curling my fingers into his dark hair and wringing out every last ounce of bliss as he learns my body. That’s exactly what he’s doing. He takes note of every muscle contraction, every silent shudder, and he catalogs them into one complete manual I want him to use again and again.
His fingers dig into my thighs, holding me wide open for him as he swirls his tongue over my clit. He tortures me as he hums his approval against me, alternating his soft strokes with his tongue thrusting inside of me. It feels so intense I can’t hold back. The rapture builds. I’m at my breaking point. My release is violent and wet, and it still doesn’t stop Alessio from dragging it out as long as he can. It’s only when I become too sensitive that he pulls away, staring up at me with eyes so beautiful, I become overwhelmed by a sudden swell of emotion. I don’t like this feeling. I don’t know how to guard my heart with him, so I do the next best thing and reach for him, tugging him up against me.
He lets me unbutton his shirt, but before I can remove it completely, he’s taking back control. Looming over me, large and indomitable, he eases me back onto the bed and settles his body between my thighs. Again, he makes no move to unzip his pants as he rocks his pelvis against me. I can’t make sense of it. I don’t know how he has so much self-control or why.
His hands are everywhere on me, touching, pawing, feeling. His lips are too. He kisses his way down my jaw, pausing at my neck scarf, and a moment of panic sinks in. I know he wants to remove it, but I can’t let him. As he lingers there, I slip my hand down between us, stroking his cock through the material of his trousers. He sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes shuddering open and closed before he returns his focus to my face.
“Natalia,” he chokes out.
I don’t know how to tell him that I want to touch him. So, I reach for his zipper, searching his eyes. He looks at me uncertainly, torn between wanting this and holding on to something I don’t yet understand. And then, finally, he decides for us.
“I have to feel you,” he rumbles.
There seems to be some deeper meaning to those words, as if the decision has been agonizing for him. He reaches down and helps me unzip his trousers, revealing a bulging pair of black briefs. Before I even touch him, the heat radiating from him warms my skin. Our gazes lock, and he’s so still, I’m not sure he’s even breathing. I reach for him, slowly sliding my palm over his engorged cock. A visible tremor moves through his entire body as I do, and it stirs a deep want within me. I never knew my body could feel so empty, but right now, it does. It’s screaming for him. Desperate for him. Willing to do anything to have him inside me. There’s just one problem.
He’s so … huge.
I’ve only ever been with one man, and it was painful. I don’t have any idea what Alessio will feel like stretching me apart. But I want to find out regardless.
I slip my fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs to touch him for real and he jerks at the contact, a muffled curse heaving from his lips. He’s so hard for me, it produces a strange flutter in my belly. Maybe it’s butterflies. Maybe it’s hunger pangs. I don’t know. I just know I like it.
He looks down at me, losing himself to the moment as I wrap my palm around his thick base and stroke him. His eyes take on a drunken intensity and then he tips his head back, rocking into my fist like he can’t help himself. Every muscle in his body strains under the confines of his clothes, and I wish more than anything he’d let me peel them off. But I can sense there’s something lingering just beneath the surface.
He’s surrendering to me inch by inch, but one wrong move might send him reeling in the other direction.
I memorize every detail of his face like this. Every agonized sound that erupts from his chest. Every muscle contraction. The way his lips fall apart before he forces them back together. He’s trying not to reveal too much, but he’s just as vulnerable as I am. I want more. I want everything. His skin against my skin. His breath on my neck when he slides deep inside me. I want him to change what I know about sex, but he’s fucking my fisted palm, pressure coiling in his body with every thrust, and I don’t know if he’s going to take it any further. His dick is starting to pulse against me. It’s just a matter of time. Then abruptly, right before the inevitable fall, he stops. He opens his eyes, looks down at me, and repeats the same thing he said before.
“I have to feel you.”
Those words have significance, and I’m trying to figure out exactly how much, when he pulls back slightly and yanks his trousers down to his knees. It’s the first glimpse I’ve had of his whole body since the sauna, and it’s even better up close. His thighs are strong and muscular. Between them, his cock hangs heavy, bobbing as he lowers his body over mine. I splay my legs further apart to accommodate him.
Once he’s close, he stops to search my eyes. I can’t tell what he’s trying to find there, but whatever it is seems to relax him.
“Just … once,” he grits out.
He fists his cock and slides it against my arousal, stifling a groan as I arch up into him. He tortures me that way, drawing it out, rocking his pelvis against me, using my come as his lubricant. It seems to go on forever, another orgasm building in me as his cock strains against the friction. I know he’s on the verge too. He doesn’t seem like he wants to stop, but eventually, he does, long enough to press the head against my opening.
Our eyes meet, and slowly, he starts to sink into me. I feel every penetrating inch. My fists tangle in the bedsheets, and even though there’s a slight bite of pain from his girth, I’m trying to absorb every second of it. He clenches his jaw, his tension palpable as he goes deeper and deeper until finally, he’s fully rooted inside me. For a minute, he closes his eyes, arms shaking, body tight, and I think he’s trying to hold himself in check.