Twisted City: (Twisted City Book 1)

by Rebekah Vasick

  The sound of his voice saying something else in Italian makes me open my eyes. I rise up on my elbows and watch as he starts with my feet, gliding his hands up my legs with his lips and tongue following behind. The closer his warm hands get to my center, the greater it pulses. I release another moan and bite on my lower lip. His fingertips reach my opening, gliding over my panties, and I realize how aroused I am.

  With his lips still on my skin, he gazes at me through his lashes. Crinkles form in the corner of his eyes, before he lowers his gaze and continues with his kisses along my skin. He rubs his thumb in a circle on my sensitive nerve endings through my panties. Another wave of heat bursts through me, and I moan and collapse back on the bed. His fingers gather the fabric of my panties and slide them down. I lift my hips, allowing him to pull them off completely.

  More Italian nothings fall from his lips, and I can feel his warm breath over my most intimate parts. My breath shudders as I anticipate his next move. Warmth and softness rests on my opening, and I realize it’s his mouth. His soft tongue glides over my aching nerves and I release another moan. My hands slide down my body to entangle in his hair as my body shudders in pleasure, and when I think I can take no more, he slips a finger inside.

  “Oh, God,” I cry, gripping his hair.

  “Let go, angel,” he murmurs, and I mourn the loss of his mouth on me. “Come for me.”

  His mouth finds my core again and I moan my approval. His finger slowly pumps in and out of me, and after a few minutes, he adds another. I gasp and release another moan, finding I can no longer contain the rising climax. My entire body shudders and warmth spreads through me as I come undone.

  “Angelo,” I cry out. “Oh, my God!”

  He continues until I go limp underneath him, then works his kisses up my body in a seemingly random pattern, going from right to left and back again.

  It’s not until he veers all the way over to the left that I realize he’s kissing every single one of my scars. He takes his time trailing his lips along the length of the deep gash in my side before continuing to move upwards, brushing his lips over each blemish as if he’s trying to heal all of the wounds of my past, until I feel him lying beside me again. My eyes flutter open to find his ocean-blue pools expel pure love.

  “Ti amo, Eva,” he whispers, followed by something else in Italian.

  “I love you too.”

  I cup his face in my hands and crush my mouth against his.

  He hooks his hand behind my knee, drawing it up and over his hip. The fabric of his remaining clothes caresses my skin, and I’m surprised to find I’m hungry for more. The hummingbird beats her wings, eager for a way out. I run my hands along his chest, and he rests his hands on my hips, sliding them around to my back, pulling me closer. I nuzzle his neck with the tip of my nose before landing my lips there. I kiss and then nibble on his neck and hear him moan. His stubble grazes my lips and I work my kisses to his ear, and gently bite his earlobe. He releases a long breath of air.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” he chuckles.

  “From the expert,” I tease.

  I shimmy down his body and trail my lips up his stomach and chest, taking time to press my lips to each of his scars as he did mine. Going off of what I liked when he was kissing me, I lightly run my tongue over his nipple. He gasps and threads his fingers through my hair. I trail my lips over to the other side of his chest and give him similar treatment there before lifting my head and covering his mouth with mine. His arms wind around my back, holding me close as our tongues dance.

  “You’re still wearing too many clothes,” I murmur against his lips.

  He rolls us onto our sides and leaves me alone on the bed as he quickly sheds the remainder of his clothes.

  I suck in a breath of air as I see his manhood. No wonder every woman wants to be with him. But I don’t get a look at it for too long before he gathers me close again, kissing me deeply.

  “Is this okay?” he asks.

  I nod, though my breath shudders.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I feel stupid, but I’m afraid.”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  I shake my head. “No, but I don’t want to see them again.”

  “Then don’t close your eyes. Keep looking at me,” he instructs, brushing his lips against mine.

  He pulls me into his embrace, focusing his gaze on mine.

  I feel the heat expel from his hardness against my thigh and I gasp. Though I’m unsure if I’m excited or afraid, or a bit of both. He must see it in my eyes, because he asks if I’m okay again. I try to speak but I’ve lost my voice. I try to nod but find I’m paralysed.

  “What’s wrong? What are you thinking?”

  A tear slithers down my cheek and I feel stupid. “I don’t know. I really want this. I love you and I want so much to push past my fears and be with you, but I’m so afraid.”

  “Of them?”

  I nod. “But also because it’s going to hurt, right?”

  “Baby,” he soothes. “I promise you, I’ll be gentle. But if you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to. We can just lie here like this.”

  I sniffle. “No. I do want this. Really.”

  He nods. “Do you trust me?”

  I sigh. “You know I do.”

  “Keep your eyes open. Keep looking at me.”

  I obey, keeping very close, with our noses touching.

  Even with my eyes open, gazing into his ocean pools, the images find their way in. My bottom lip trembles as my breath shudders. He cradles me in his arms and kisses me again.

  “It’s okay, angel,” he assures me. “It’s just us here. You’re safe.”

  I shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he asks.

  “A little.”

  He tugs the comforter up, allowing me to slip under it, and joins me. Once again, I’m in his arms, bathing in his warmth.

  I hate this. Here is the love of my life, wanting to express his love for me, and the monsters from my past continue to haunt me.

  As if Angelo can sense my thoughts, he cups my face between his hands landing his soft lips against mine.

  “It’s just us here,” he repeats. “We’re not going to do anything you’re not completely comfortable with.”

  His hands slip down my sides and come to rest on my hips, and he hitches my leg over his hip again, rolling over and encouraging me to straddle him.

  I rest my palms on the mattress, on either side of his head, and lower myself on his chest. He slips one hand up my back and entangles his fingers into my hair, pulling me in for a kiss. I feel his excitement mingle with my own, and I take a breath as I reach down with one hand to grasp his shaft. He sucks in a breath of air and his eyes slide closed, but he doesn’t move or speak. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I position him at my entrance and slowly sink down. There’s a bite of pain as he pushes past the barrier and I whimper.

  He sits up and cups my face in his hands. “Eva, Look at me.”

  I force my eyes open to meet his, finding nothing but pure love emanating from his gaze. I try to move a little and wince, finding I’m still tender from the intrusion. He pulls me back down into an embrace and kisses me deeply.

  He mumbles something in Italian. “Baby, we can stop if you want.”

  I shake my head and try moving again and involuntarily whimper.

  Damn it. I knew it would hurt, but I wasn’t expecting it to last like this.

  “I’m sorry, angel,” he sighs, sounding pained. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” I tell him. “More than anything.”

  He claims my lips again, threading the fingers of one hand through my hair and sliding the other arm around my back. If I wasn’t here witnessing it for myself, if I hadn’t seen it every day since we’ve been together, I would never believe that he was capable of being this loving and tender. But it’s a side of him that only I get to see, and it makes me love him all the more.

  Aga
in, I attempt to rock over him and find that I’m not as tender now. I try again, and he groans quietly into my mouth. I continue rocking against him, feeling jolts of electricity with every movement, and after a few minutes, he gently starts arching his hips up in time with my motions. All the love we have for each other permeates the room, making itself known with every kiss, every touch, every moan. His hands travel the length of my back and rest on my hips. We are as one, moving in time with each other and I never want this to end.

  His hand slides across my thigh and his thumb brushes over my nerve endings.

  “Angelo,” I moan, feeling pressure build up inside me.

  “Come for me, angel,” he commands as he continues to rub circles over my sensitive nerves.

  I moan, tilting my head back.

  He abandons his hand movements as he gathers me close, pressing his hand at the small of my back. And the change in angle is all I need for my climax to come crashing over me.

  “God, Angelo!” I cry as I come undone for the second time.

  “Eva,” he groans as he stills, finding his release with me.

  I collapse against him, breathless, and he lays back down and rolls us over to our sides, slowly pulling out. I gasp a little as an unexpected shiver comes over me. Angelo’s lips find mine again in a soft, tender kiss.

  “Ti amo, angel,” he says against my lips.

  My lips turn up in a smile. He has no idea how much I love him.

  “I love you too,” I murmur.

  The morning light spills in through my window. I stretch out my limbs and turn my head to see Angelo sleeping peacefully beside me. I lean up on my elbow and cradle my cheek in my palm. After we made love, I couldn’t stop grinning and giggling. My knight in shining armor, or in this case a black suit, came to my rescue and slew the monsters. I couldn’t say when either of us passed out last night. But we made sure we were both sufficiently satisfied first.

  Angelo stirs and his eyes flutter open.

  “How long have you been watching me?” he asks with sleep thick in his voice.

  “Not long.”

  He hooks his hand behind my neck and draws me in for a kiss.

  I lay my head on his chest and with a tender finger, swirl the infinity symbol on his chest.

  “Mind if we shower before heading out?” he asks.

  “We? As in—”

  “You and me under the hot water.”

  I giggle. “Okay.”

  He leaves a kiss on top of my head before rising from the bed, still naked. And only then do I realise how exposed I am. Strange, considering he saw every inch of me last night, but here I am, blushing. I tug the comforter up to my chin.

  “Aren’t you coming?” he asks.

  I chuckle nervously.

  “Hang on,” he says, and disappears from my room, only to return soon after with a towel.

  I love how he knows me so well.

  “I’ll meet you in there,” he says and leaves once again.

  I wrap the towel around myself and tiptoe towards the bathroom. This is silly. He’s already seen me naked and I can’t shower in a towel.

  Just get over yourself, Eva. He loves you. All of you, I remind myself.

  After suitably chastening myself, I drop the towel and slip past the curtain and join him under the hot stream.

  “How long were we in there?” I ask once we step out.

  He shrugs. “Long enough to use all the hot water.”

  The mischievous grin I adore emerges on his lips.

  “And for us to resemble prunes,” I pout.

  After wrapping ourselves in our towels, we step out the bathroom. I freeze, and I’m sure my face is as red as my hair. My mouth hangs agape as I stare at Alice and Mario sitting on the sofa. Alice’s hand flutters up to her mouth where she tries to suppress her giggle, while Mario arches his eyebrows.

  “Did you two have fun in there?” he asks, transforming me into a glowing beacon.

  I rush to my room, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

  The click of my door closing sounds in my ears and I turn to witness Angelo chuckling.

  “So not funny!”

  He pulls me into his embrace and leaves feather-light kisses on my cheek. “Come on, it’s a little funny.”

  I bury my beaconed face into his chest. “Nope. Not even a little bit.”

  He chuckles again and kisses my still-wet hair.

  “Let’s get dressed. By the look on Alice’s face, I think she wants to spend a little time with you.”

  Yeah, I know what she wants. She wants every detail of what we just did in the bathroom. And in my bedroom last night. Not happening.

  I slip into a pair of jeans and thrown on my favorite midnight blue hoodie. After Angelo gets dressed, he leaves the room.

  “She’s all yours, Alice,” he says.

  I hear the front door open and close and then the lock clicking. Then I hear her feet slap against the floor as she bolts for my door.

  “Tell me everything!” she cries after securing the door closed.

  I shroud myself in my hood, desperate to hide my glowing face. But that’s not good enough for her. She hooks my arm with hers and pulls me to the bed. She yanks my hood off and snatches up the brush from my nightstand and drags it through my hair.

  “Alice, it’s private!” I exclaim.

  “Nope. I’m your best friend. You’re not getting out of this that easily,” she giggles.

  “Fine. We did it. Happy?” I groan.

  “Please,” she scoffs. “I’m not an idiot. I figured that much out. But where? In the shower? Not very romantic for your first time.”

  Now I’m the one to giggle. “No. The first time was last night in here. And it was plenty romantic, thank you very much.”

  She squeals with excitement. “My little girl’s all grown up.”

  I roll my eyes. “Hilarious.”

  I feel her warmth along my back as she drapes her arms around my neck. “But you did it in the shower, right?”

  I groan, and she giggles again.

  “Happy anniversary,” I whisper into Angelo’s ear the moment he wakes up.

  The widening smile spreads across my lips as he cradles my cheek in his hand and kisses me.

  “It’s not our anniversary for another five months,” he says with sleep thick in his voice.

  “We met two years ago today.”

  He chuckles. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t get you anything.”

  I nestle in beside him, absorbing his warmth. “I’ve got everything I could possibly want right here.”

  He wraps his arms around me, drawing me closer, and kisses the top of my head. “Ti amo.”

  “Ti amo anch’io,” I reply.

  Literally the only thing I know how to say in Italian (other than “ciao”) is “I love you too.” I’d asked Mario how to say it after I found out what “ti amo” meant. Angelo laughed at me the first time I spoke Italian back to him with an English accent. But he thinks it’s adorable, or at least he says he does.

  “Are you looking forward to this evening?” he asks.

  I tilt my head up to gaze at him. “Yes. Though I’d be more excited if you told me where we’re going.”

  He chuckles. “Nice try.”

  “But you know I don’t like surprises.” I pout.

  “You’ll like this one. How’s your stomach? Still nauseous?”

  “A little, but I’ll be okay.”

  “Baby, shouldn’t you go see a doctor or something? It’s been two weeks.”

  I release a sigh and kiss him. “Don’t worry about me.”

  He furrows his brow. “Eva, you know I’ll always worry about you. It’s kind of my job.”

  The wide smile returns. I love that about him. But the truth is, he really shouldn’t worry about this. Nothing is wrong. I’m not sick, not really, or at least not in the way he thinks. Yes, I’ve had nausea for the past two weeks, but I’ve also missed my period
. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s going on. Only, I don’t want to say anything until I know for sure.

  We haven’t talked about babies or marriage for that matter. And I’m not sure how he would take the news. If I confide in Alice, she’ll berate me for being careless, and even say it was only a matter of time before I got pregnant. Besides, it seems only fair to tell Angelo first.

  What kind of father would he be anyway? Would he be like Frankie?

  I’ve seen Angelo interact with his two nieces and nephew, and he’s a natural with kids. But he can hand those kids back. Would he be different with his own?

  And what about me? What kind of mother would I make? I’ve hardly had the perfect role models. Not even mediocre role models. They taught me to despise a gift from God and what have I nurtured throughout my life? I’ve never even had a pet. Not even a goldfish. How am I to raise a child?

  “What are you thinking about?” he asks me.

  “Hm? Oh, nothing.”

  He arches one eyebrow. “Really?”

  The corners of my mouth hitch up. “Well, if you must know, I’m wondering how I got so lucky finding you.”

  “Liar,” he chuckles. “But I’ll take the compliment.”

  He leans in for a kiss, parting his lips and seeking for my tongue. Even after all this time, I still feel like this is our first kiss. How does he do that? How does he make each kiss, each touch, feel like the first time all over again?

  He slides his hand down my back and slips it under my t-shirt. His touch sends electricity flowing through my body. With ease, he draws my shirt up, tugging it over my head, and discards it, leaving me in nothing but my panties. His lips find mine again as he draws me into his embrace and lays me on my back to work his kisses down my chest, down to my stomach, where he pauses.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He gazes at me through his lashes and smiles. “Nothing,” he says, leaving a tender kiss on my stomach and saying something in Italian.

  Does he know? And if so, how?

  Before I can think too much about it, he crawls down between my legs and places a kiss over my fabric-covered center before peeling my panties down. He takes his time trailing kisses up one of my inner thighs, then the other, before his mouth finds its ultimate destination. I cry out in pleasure as I reach down to thread my fingers through his hair.