He’d hurt her. Again. He fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and comfort her, but he needed distance, too. Being together tonight had been a mistake.
“What were you expecting to happen, cara? Some great breakthrough into figuring out the enigma that is Marc D’Alessio? Well, good luck with that. I’ve been trying for months—no, years! Give up. He’s a lost cause.”
“Marc, you’re worth the time, even when you’re being an ass. I wish you could let go of the pain from the past, so we can get to the bottom of whatever is eating away at you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, but he broke free.
Trapped.
Unable to formulate a response she’d want to hear, he turned and continued back down the hallway, walking into the kitchen where he pulled a bottle of her rot-gut white zinfandel off the wine rack. He opened several drawers before finding the one with the corkscrew in it before remembering Angelina’s wines rarely contained corks. He rolled his eyes. Marc was the one who kept things tightly corked. Picking up the bottle, he twisted off the cap and poured himself a glassful.
His phone vibrated in his pants, reminding him of Luke’s situation. Merda, he couldn’t lose himself in vino tonight. Already he’d forgotten about Luke once. Glancing at the phone, he recognized the number as the one Karla had given him for Cassie earlier.
“Yes?”
“Just wanted to give you an update, as requested.” Cassie’s voice had an edge to it; she didn’t want to have to talk with him. But she had called, which was something.
“Luke is sleeping. He’s been in and out of sleep the last couple hours. When he wakes up, I understand most of what he’s saying.”
“Good. How’s his body temperature?”
“Warmer. He’s not shivering as violently but still does sometimes. Should I try to feed him anything the next time he wakes?”
“Don’t worry about food tonight. He ate before he left the bar. Keep him hydrated. Water tonight and try some unsalted soup or something light tomorrow.”
“I’ll start a pot now.” She paused before adding, “Thanks, Marc.”
“Thank you, Cassie. You’re doing a great job. All Luke’s friends appreciate you.”
When she said nothing more, he said good-bye and ended the call. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Sounds like he’s better, doesn’t it, Marc?” He turned to see Angelina in the doorway. The worry in her voice made him open his arms and she walked into them. “Is it a problem if he’s sleeping too much?”
“It’s a good sign that he’s not shivering as much and sounds like he’s resting but not unconscious.”
“Cassie’s handling this better than I expected.”
“I’m not as worried now, that’s for sure.”
He held on to her, not wanting to break contact and start rehashing his past or their issues. He knew she wanted him to lower his defenses and seek answers about his childhood. Could she accept him without resolving those issues? Would she let him continue to run from his past provided he wasn’t running from her any longer?
Weariness crept into his bones. He wouldn’t find answers tonight. “Why don’t we get some sleep? I don’t expect to hear from Cassie again until morning. We don’t know what’s ahead over the next few days.”
Angelina nodded but didn’t let go.
“I’ll take the sofa.”
“Marc…”
She paused so long, he prompted her to continue. “Yes, amore?”
“Having even two walls separating us is too much for me right now. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”
She wanted to sleep with him? Operative word being sleep. She’d made that very clear and he would honor her limits. Dio, but he wished it could be different. Sexually, they were compatible. Even during sex—especially during sex—he could keep an emotional distance. Cuddling? Lying next to each other, especially if he fell asleep—that made him too vulnerable.
But she needed him tonight. He pulled away and reached out his hand. “Let’s go to bed.”
* * *
Marc’s hand in hers gave Angelina a sense of security she’d missed. They walked down the hallway toward the place where she’d first started to explore submission with him, hesitating inside the doorway as she looked at the bed. She couldn’t keep at bay the memory of holding onto Nonna’s headboard in honor bondage as she fought so hard to please him and do as he’d instructed. Her pussy grew wet just thinking about that scene.
She nibbled her lower lip. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
“You’re in control, cara.”
She glanced at the bed and back at him, and then nodded. “We’ll just cuddle.” She knew they’d already established that, but need to remind herself. It was going to be a long night.
“You know you can trust me, amore.”
“I know I can, Marc. It’s me I’m worried about at the moment.” She grinned and reached up to undo the buttons on her blouse.
Marc brushed her hands aside. “Do not remove your clothing.”
She lowered her head in instant submission, but he lifted her chin until she met his gaze.
“No, cara, you are not submitting to me tonight.”
Hurt by his rejection of her gift of submission, she took a step back.
“I’m not a masochist, amore. Seeing your beautiful body naked and not being able to make love to you is hard enough, but having you in submission as well will be torture of the worst kind.”
“Oh!” She grinned in relief. “I’ll just go in the bathroom and change into a nightgown.”
“Sounds perfect, cara.”
“I’ll wear the flannel one.”
She didn’t miss the disappointment in his eyes. “I’ll wear my boxer briefs.”
Angelina’s heart fluttered at his words, her mind instantly flashing to the countless times she’d helped him remove them herself. Sometimes with her teeth. Her face flushed at the memory.
Control yourself.
She intended to maintain her resolve. Cuddling. Only cuddling. She walked over to the dresser and pulled out one of her gowns, tossing it over her shoulder as she walked toward the bathroom.
If they hadn’t become sexual so fast last fall, maybe they could have built a stronger foundation that would have weathered the avalanche of revelations and trust issues they’d been bombarded with this winter. Marc’s solitary quest for answers—shutting her out—hadn’t helped. Not letting her in on his plans to go to Italy led to her leaving him, but he’d really left her emotionally weeks before.
Why wouldn’t he talk with Mama, the very person who would know what had happened back then? Clearly he wasn’t ready to face whatever he’d been running from his entire life.
Had he truly come to grips with anything in her absence? Not likely. All she knew was that she wanted him to include her in this journey of self-discovery, to lean on her when times got rough, and to celebrate when things worked out. She wanted it all. They had no problems with their sexual connection. The kink was good, too. Now how to make the rest of their relationship work?
She wanted a commitment—but Marc was far from ready to take that step.
Would he ever be able to? Savannah’s words about how hard it was for someone with early childhood abandonment issues to form relationships later caused her to doubt whether loving him was going to be enough.
How long could she continue to wait for him to let her be a part of his life? She wouldn’t turn twenty-six for a few more months, so her biological clock wasn’t ticking too loudly yet, but she did want to have a family someday.
And she wanted those children to be Marc’s, not some random sperm donor she had yet to meet. The thought of being with anyone but Marc was out of the question. She wouldn’t give up on him yet. He was worth the wait—even if that meant she’d have to wait until they were old and gray.
For several minutes after she’d done everything she could to prepare herself for bed, she stared at the door. Could she stay
strong for him tonight? What had possessed her to think she could cuddle up next to Marc and not want more?
I can’t hide in here all night.
Drawing a deep breath, she steeled her shoulders and prepared to face the alpha wolf waiting in her den, er, bedroom.
Her wolf needed nurturing, and she was just the she-wolf to do it. Steeling herself, Angelina opened the bathroom door and walked through the closet into the bedroom.
Marc didn’t play fair. He’d removed his shirt and dress pants. Yes, his black boxer briefs remained on, but his rigid cock left nothing to her long-deprived imagination. Avoiding staring at his erection, she focused instead on his pecs, specifically at the sprinkling of hair between them that she’d missed running her fingers through for so long.
Why did the man have to wear form-fitting, sexy-as-sin black boxer briefs? Averting her gaze, she made a bee-line for the bed. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
“I’ll only be a minute.”
“Take your time. There’s a new toothbrush in the upper right-hand drawer of the vanity.”
“Grazie.”
She pulled the quilt, blankets, and top sheet back. Sleeping alone, she’d burrowed under all the layers, but if she would be sleeping next to Marc tonight wearing this heavy gown to boot, she didn’t need any more heat. After separating the quilt and folding it at the bottom of the bed, she climbed in and reached to turn off the bedside lamp before he returned.
Please let me be half asleep before he joins me.
Scooting to the opposite side of the bed, she pulled the covers up to her neck and waited. The shower started. Don’t think of him being naked in your bathroom, Angie.
What did she hope to accomplish by cuddling with him tonight? Somehow the nurturing thoughts had deserted her. Would he make himself vulnerable to her, or take his usual tack and attempt to distract her by trying to melt off her panties again? As if he had to try all that hard.
Stay strong for him, Angie.
The last thing they needed was to complicate matters further by having sex tonight. The water shut off, and her heart rate tripled.
Breathe.
She closed her eyes. Would he buy that she’d fallen asleep while waiting for him? Hardly.
Don’t let him know you’re a nervous wreck.
So much rested on tonight. Angelina turned around to face the door to her closet and waited. This house was so small compared to Marc’s. His mansion was more modern, had a kitchen to die for, and sported enough square footage to house the entire US Olympic ski team. But she’d missed the intimate times they’d shared in her cozy little house before she’d moved in with him last October. He seemed more relaxed here than there, too.
Marc opened the bathroom door, and she watched as a wall of steam billowed through the doorway. He entered the room, and she saw he wore a towel tucked in at his waist. Dio, help her. She knew Marc liked to sleep in the nude and usually insisted she do the same, but they had a deal. And she wasn’t submitting to him tonight.
“You’d better have briefs on under that towel.” Or was he just trying to hide his erection? No, he hadn’t seemed worried about that earlier.
He grinned. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, so I washed them out in the sink. No worries, though. I’ll keep this towel on. It’s dry.”
He lifted the sheet and blankets and crawled between them. Just how long did he expect the end of that towel to remain tucked into the makeshift waistband while he moved around in the bed tonight? Marc had never been one to sleep calmly. The man was all arms and legs when he slept.
Angelina reminded herself that tonight wasn’t about allowing Marc to put the moves on her. He’d always used sex as a diversion whenever she’d gotten too close, but she didn’t plan to let him get away with it tonight. If she wanted his needs to be met, she’d have to remain steadfast. Focused. For both of them.
She’d gone for months without sex. What was one more night?
Only she hadn’t had Marc’s hot body as temptation before, except in her dreams.
Focus on his needs.
Angelina tucked her arm under his and around his waist. Her hand automatically went to his butt cheek before she moved it up to his back.
Don’t touch his butt!
Marc placed a kiss on her forehead and drew her closer, despite her attempts at resisting. “You smell so good. I’ve missed holding you like this, too.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea after all.”
“We’re only going to cuddle tonight.”
“Is that what this is?”
He grinned. “Seems so to me, unless you grab my ass again.”
“I didn’t grab…”
His hand stroked down her arm and then homed in on her breast, tweaking her nipple. “Tit for tat.”
She smacked his hand. “No, Marc! Behave!”
Marc pulled his hand away.
Angelina stroked the stubble on his cheek and traced a path down his jaw and neck. “What do you need from me tonight?”
His eyes grew shuttered. Should she push, or let it go for another day? If she just let him retreat, they’d have gotten no closer to resolving their issues.
“Tell me, Marc. I can’t read your mind.”
He had said the same to her so many times. Maybe hearing the words thrown back at him would drive home the fact that he’d rarely shared his needs or innermost thoughts with her.
When she reached out to touch his cheek again, he grabbed her wrist and stilled her progress. For a long moment, they simply stared at one another, before he released her and reclined onto his back looking up at the ceiling.
“I envy what you have with your family, cara.”
She sat up and looked down at him, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean? You have a wonderful family who loves you very much.”
“Yes, I know, but there have been too many lies, secrets. Too much trust has been shattered. I don’t even know who my family is anymore. You, however, know where you came from. You have had a lifetime to build trust in the people around you. I’ve been betrayed too many times. I lost that ability to trust at a very young age. It’s very difficult for me…”
“Who have you accepted as your mother, Marc?”
He turned to her, puzzled. “Mama is the only person I’ll ever think of as being my mother.”
“You believe her, then?”
He idly traced a pattern on her shoulder, causing her errant nipples to swell, but his gaze remained on her face.
“I don’t know what to believe. I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell me the truth when she adopted me. Gino knew.”
“You were just a little boy then, lost and confused. The woman you thought to be your mother had died suddenly. Besides, society was so different back then. You know how traditional those small Italian villages could be. Still are. She didn’t want to have you treated badly by other children because of a mistake she’d made with the wrong man.”
“There was no reason for her to continue to lie about having given birth to me after we left Brescia. I was eleven. No one in America would have cared.”
Angelina wondered about that, too. “Maybe she was worried what Gramps would think. She’d just found him and I’m sure wanted to make a good impression on her father.”
“You’re forgetting that Gramps fathered Mama illegitimately while my grandmother cared for him in her home after he was wounded in the Po Valley Campaign. He wouldn’t have thrown stones.”
“There’s a double standard for men and women, Marc, and it was even worse back then.”
He nodded. “I guess so.”
They stared at each other in silence for a while before she broke into his thoughts. “Have you told her how you feel yet?”
He glanced away, and the motion of his fingers on her collarbone stopped. She reached up and stroked his forehead, letting her fingertip trail over his temple and cheek. “I think she can help heal that wounded little boy inside you better than anyone
else.”
He grabbed her hand again as his gaze zeroed in on her, ferocity in his green eyes. “I’m a grown man. The past can’t be changed. I have to accept what happened and move on.”
“How’s that worked for you so far?”
“Touché.” He glanced away. “I’ll admit, I have no clue what to say to her.”
“Saying that you understand might be a good start. That you forgive her for not being honest with you.”
“But I don’t understand. Far from it.”
He didn’t say whether he could forgive Mama, but Angelina didn’t think he’d gotten there yet. Maybe she could help him process the feelings a little bit.
“Okay, you say you accept that she’s your mother, because you’ve known no other your entire life. I think she needs to hear that from you.”
He sighed and cupped her cheek with his warm hand. She fought the urge to turn her face toward his palm and kiss him. Every ounce of her being wanted to nurture and cuddle him, but he didn’t need coddling. He needed prodding.
Once more, his gaze became shuttered. “Let’s get some sleep. I’ll check in with Cassie in the morning and see how Luke is doing.”
He’d slammed the door shut, but for a few moments beforehand, he’d left it open just enough to shine some light on his thoughts and insecurities.
“Good night, Marc.”
She pushed his shoulder, guiding him onto his back and placing her head on his right pec. Marc wrapped his arm around her and stroked her hair.
Her eyelids grew heavy.
Home.
* * *
Angelina’s head grew heavier and he knew she’d fallen into a deep sleep. The dark circles under her eyes and the weight loss were testament to how hard she’d had it these past couple months. Conversely, he’d gained weight during her absence by eating out too much. He’d missed her fabulous, healthy meals.
How would she feel about living with him again, especially if it wasn’t in the Denver house with a kitchen that was any chef’s wet dream?
Don’t think about wet dreams right now.
Still, she loved that kitchen. It was her favorite room in the house, unless they were playing somewhere else in the house. They’d practically lived either in the kitchen or the bedroom when they were together with occasional visits to the playroom. But he’d never needed a well-equipped playroom to play.
Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) Page 36