"Not yet, love." His hand sneaks between our bodies, touching me, feeling how much he affects me. "You're not ready." He says, and my brows furrow at his words.
"I'm ready, so ready. Please." How can he not see how ready I am, want dripping from my very being?
He chuckles and shakes his head, giving me a quick kiss before lowering himself between my legs.
I just want him inside! My mind is screaming, but as his tongue makes contact with my flesh, I can't be mad anymore.
I fall back onto the mattress, eyes wild, legs on his shoulders and hands in his hair.
He's killing me.
My breathing picks up, my body responding to every touch.
"Marcello," I gasp, that elusive feeling nearing ever so slightly.
My thighs clench, tightening around his head. His hands on my butt draw me closer, his movements increasing, his tongue wringing every bit of pleasure from my body.
Until it all collapses.
"Lord!" I moan out loud, feeling my body go limp.
Marcello places a kiss on my belly, taking a moment to lay his head on my stomach.
Remembering the stretch marks from my pregnancy, I try to move him, but he stops me.
"Don't." His voice is tender and filled with emotion. His palm rests on the worst scar, and he traces it in an awed manner.
"It's not pretty." I stop his hand, laying mine on top of his.
"It is." He drops another kiss on the marred skin. "Because it gave life. Never be ashamed of it, Lina."
His words floor me, and I have to blink twice to get rid of the moisture forming in my lashes.
"You gave up everything to have a beautiful baby girl when others wouldn't. This is your badge of honor, Lina."
"Thank you." My voice is hoarse. This is the first time anyone's acknowledged my sacrifices for Claudia. The first time anyone's seen them as anything but disgraceful.
"You have no idea how much that means to me." I caress his forehead, hoping to convey to him everything I'm feeling.
He moves up my body and his mouth envelops mine in a sizzling kiss. All other thoughts promptly disappear from my mind as I succumb to the sensation.
He settles between my legs, slowly entering me. My arms go around his back, holding onto him as he gently rocks into me. He worships my body with every touch, every stroke, and I can only stare into his eyes, taking in his intensity.
It's too much!
"Faster, please!" I moan, feeling a pressure build inside of me. Marcello increases his pace, his length retreating and then entering me again, stretching me, and making me gasp with pleasure.
It's almost there!
I clench around him, and all the nerves in my body prickle with awareness. The intensity is too much, and tears start rolling down my face. It's only a few seconds later that he joins me, and I feel him emptying himself inside of me.
"God, Lina." He groans, his forehead resting on my shoulder. He raises his head just a fraction, noting my tears.
"Fuck! Did I hurt you? Are you ok?" He tries to move but I keep on holding onto him.
"No, you didn't hurt me. It was just... too much. Too much feeling." I confess, biting my lip. His eyebrows crease in confusion.
"You're sure?" He asks again.
"Yes, everything was perfect." My hands glide across his back, and I'm once more reminded of the horrific sight I'd seen.
We settle in bed and he drapes the sheet on top of me. We sit in silence for a while, and I make the courage to ask.
"What happened to your back?"
"You saw." He slowly says. I turn around to face him. His expression is tight, and he's looking anywhere but at me.
"Who did that to you?" His shoulders slump at my question. He shouldn't feel embarrassed about it. Not knowing it's something I can understand very well.
"I..." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I'll tell you someday." He finally says, not meeting my eyes.
Someday. Why is it always someday with him? Before I can control myself, I blurt out.
"Like the woman you loved?" I don't even recognize my voice. Is this what jealousy feels like? Because it's making me want to neutralize that unknown woman.
Marcello's eyes meet mine. "Lina..." His pleading tone suggests he wants me to drop the subject, but I need to know.
"Can't you tell me? I want to know who I'm competing against. Is she still in your life?" But what I want to ask the most is, do you still love her?
"It's in the past."
"Marcello," I start, trying to find my words. "I think we should just lay everything on the table."
"What do you mean?" He frowns.
I take a deep breath.
"I'm in love with you. I love you and I need to know if there's still someone in your life..." His eyes widen, and he's looking at me as if he's seen a ghost.
"You... love me?" He repeats in disbelief.
I nod. "Of course I do. I think I've been falling in love with you from the very beginning. That's why... I want to know if there's a place for me in your heart." Now that the truth is out, I don't know if I should rejoice or weep. He's just staring at me.
"Say that again." He whispers.
"I love you?" He pulls me into his arms, an embrace so deep he's almost crushing me.
"You love me." He's still repeating the words, slowly rocking with me.
"Marcello?" I ask after a while. His head is buried in the crook of my neck, and I hear a slight sob.
"Marcello." I say again.
"There isn't anyone else." He finally speaks against my skin. "There was never anyone else."
"But... that woman..."
"It's always been you."
Chapter Twenty-four
"IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU." I tell her, knowing she might not look at me the same when she knows. "I've only ever loved one woman—you."
"What do you mean?" Her arms push at my shoulders and I let her put the distance between us. "How's that possible..." She shakes her head. "You don't have to lie to me, Marcello."
"I'm not lying. Not about this. I fell in love with you ten years ago."
"Ten years ago... But... How?"
"I first saw you at one of your father's banquets. You were in the garden, trying to sneak in." I can picture the exact moment I'd first seen her. So beautiful, so pure. "I wanted to marry you back then too." I confess.
"I don't understand. We've never met before, I'm sure of it." A deep crease forms between her brows as she tries and fails to remember me.
"I looked a mess, but we did meet. Just outside your house." I proceed to tell her the encounter that even now, a decade later, is still imprinted in my mind. The moment she had me, utterly and irrevocably—whether she wanted me or not.
I've been hers since that moment.
AGE TWENTY-ONE,
THE PAIN IS RIPPING THROUGH my insides. My hand is clutching at my wound, trying to stop the bleeding. I know I'm not likely to die from this, but that doesn't mean it's any less painful.
I hang my head low as I keep on walking, the hood draped over my face helping to cover the damage father had inflicted.