The old man was already in hysterics. His laughter caused some of the family to gather around, and it seemed like they kept multiplying from there. His daughters all touched him while he laughed. They were laughing, too, shouting out taunts.
Capo had shot up from his seat the second time I’d hit him and, moving like a wolf on the prowl, was trying to get the hose from me. I wouldn’t go down without a fight, and until he had the weapon, I refused to let up on the trigger.
I stuck my tongue out at him. “You can’t catch me!”
“You are so childish,” he said. His hair was saturated, and when he slicked it back, those eyes were the color of sapphires, reacting to the draining light.
I grinned. “Maybe so, but who has the hose?” I hit him right on his crotch.
He was getting closer to me, and the closer he got, the more I lost it. I couldn’t control my laughter. It grew in volume when I hit Gigi next. She let out a blood-curdling scream, which made everyone else laugh even harder, too. Here, they treated her like everyone else, but in her world, she was treated like glass. Her eyes narrowed into an ‘I will get you, child’ look.
“Oops!” I yelled toward her. “I can’t keep my arms steady!”
My revenge had caused me to turn a blind eye on the wolf, and he’d grabbed me around the waist while we wrestled for the hose and it sprayed wildly. All of a sudden, everyone was throwing buckets of water at everyone else. Kids giggled. Adults shrieked like Gigi when that first blast of cold water hits warm skin.
Then it was on. The garden and surrounding areas were in mayhem.
I was still trying to hold on to my weapon, but Capo had somehow turned my weapon on me. My simple summer dress was soaked and clinging. My laughter did me in in the end—slippery fingers were a disadvantage, too—and he got the hose and refused to let up on me. I ran around, trying to dodge, laughing like a loon (one of Nonno’s favorite words) while Capo took his revenge.
Having had enough of his vengeance, I ran right out of the chaos. I had no idea where I ran to, laughing like I was, but my feet seemed to have an agenda. Capo handed his grandfather the hose, and it thrilled me to the core when he took off after me. As we ran, my laugher echoed behind me, and right before we reached an area of the property with a dilapidated villa, I realized he’d been herding me this way on purpose.
The villa had fallen apart, probably years ago. It had no roof, but the foundation stood strong, and so did some of the brick walls, even if vines clung to them. The light was still fading, but the air felt heavy with leftover sunlight, and it snuck in through all of the crevices, causing the area to glow.
Slowing, breathing heavy, I turned and walked backwards, my hands held up in surrender. “Don’t do it,” I whispered. “Think this through. Remember. You’re more man than animal. You have more than basic needs.”
That Machiavellian smile came to his face. “You should know better, Mariposa. You should always think before you act. When it comes to fucking you, I’m all animal.”
Thoughts of the night before barreled into me—him pounding into me, and then him letting me climb on top of him. I rode him hard, the friction between us a fire between our bodies, and we cracked the headboard from our insane momentum. Being with him was like talking about good food while you ate good food.
“Hungry wolf,” I whispered.
“What about the hungry wolf?”
“That’s how you’re looking at me.”
“You’re wrong.”
“If I am, it’s not by much.”
He howled softly and then grinned. “I’ll never get the taste of you off of my tongue, and I’m fucking starving, not hungry. I crave you, being inside of you, like I’ve never craved anything in my life.”
My back slammed against the brick. He pushed me even further into the rough wall when he crashed into me, his erection hard against my stomach. My leg came up, wrapping around his hip, and his hand slid against my slick inner thigh, going toward my ass. My fingers tugged at the ends of his hair, feeling the droplets of water that continued to saturate his shirt.
Our eyes connected. It lasted for only a few seconds in time, but to me, the moment seemed to span a lifetime. Something moved between us, and I wasn’t sure what it was, only that it felt stronger than it ever had before. It consumed me like the most beautiful ocean, and then wrote his initials on my soul.
The fear from the grape arbor hit me with what felt like a blow to end it all. The serrated walls around me might as well have stabbed me in the heart. My palms tingled, my stomach filled with poison-winged butterflies, and my heart pushed into my throat, making it hard to breathe. The roar of my blood filled my ears. A hard-earned breath escaped my mouth in a deep whoosh.
Waves the color of his eyes had me too far from shore. I couldn’t catch my breath. I was going to drown in my feelings for him.
The fear sucker punched me at the most unexpected times. I’d buried it down so far below the surface that it was usually hidden from the light, but when Capo created havoc on my heart, the way he looked at me, with hooded eyes and an expression that was somehow confused but determined, it freed the panic from its cage.
I couldn’t swim fast enough to hide it again. So I did what I could. I punched fear right in the fucking face. I wanted this, him, more than I was afraid. My words, or what I didn’t say, had already cost me everything.
Being with Capo, I realized, felt a lot like living—and living meant taking chances.
The fear shattered and blew out when his mouth slammed against mine, his hands cupping my ass, pulling me forward. I reached down and undid his jeans, pushing them down as far as they would go, and then his boxer briefs. They were soaked and sticking to his skin. I was too lost in his mouth sucking the beads of water from my skin to even notice that he’d ripped the lacy underwear from my hips.
He stuck them in his back pocket before he lifted me up some, my leg still wrapped around his hip, and then he entered me so hard and so deep that my head knocked against the wall. He pumped into me so fast that my world spun from the sudden overflow of sensations.
For every ounce I gave, he took two. For every ounce I took, he gave four.
I didn’t need him to touch me with his fingers to make me shatter into a million pieces. He knew where to reach me, and he kept touching the spot, sometimes battering it, over and over. So it was hard to keep up, to not give in, but I held on, drawing out the moment, stretching the connection.
“That’s it,” he rasped against my neck. “Give yourself to me, Mariposa. Always.”
Not conquer. Not own. Give. Maybe he’d realized that no matter how much money a man had to buy things, there was nothing like a woman giving herself to him.
The noises we made were animalistic, and they echoed around us. The smell of water, the earthly smell of a vacant building, and our sex filled the warm air. He seemed to know that I was holding on, not letting go until he did. Even though I was wet, I could taste salt on my lips from how hard he worked my body.
He slowed, his strokes easier, but no less filling. I bit my lip, making it bleed, and he came forward, licking the spot. “Come to me, Mariposa,” he said in Italian. “Come now.”
He thrust so hard, once, that I felt shockwaves throughout my entire body. I hissed out a breath because I was pretty sure he had rammed my uterus. He slowed, only to hit me again, until his pace picked up and I couldn’t deny the tension any longer.