“I know. I will.” He pulled the blankets across them and ironed her to his front, her damp face tucked against his aching throat, her sawing breaths cutting him in two.
He told her he was sorry. Sorry he wasn’t there and sorry they’d lost her. She said, “Me, too,” and pressed harder against him. “I could have lived without you if I had that connection, you know? I felt so alone after she was gone. Like you were really gone.”
“Freja,” he breathed, not telling her to shush as she sobbed piteously in his arms. And he didn’t tell her he would be in her life forevermore because she wouldn’t believe him.
But he would be. As he stroked her hair and eased her into sleep, he silently made her that promise. I am here. I am yours. Always.
Freja became aware of being too warm, yet incredibly comfortable, the way she used to feel when she slept with—
Her eyes were still gritty with last night’s tears as she dragged them open to see Giovanni’s bearded throat.
He was awake, watching her through heavy lashes as his strong arms cradled her protectively. He was rock-hard against her stomach.
She quirked a brow at him. Some things never change.
His mouth dented at one corner with mild self-disgust. Boys will be boys.
The sweetest rush of affection suffused her. Something deeper, even, that she shied from acknowledging because she was still so gutted by hurt and betrayal. By the loss of this. Sometimes, when they’d had nothing between them but skin, she had believed in happily-ever-after. Then he had been gone. He had left. That’s how it had felt, like an abandonment. She had felt so alone in these months without him, she could hardly face each day.
Last night had helped, though. It helped a lot to know she wasn’t alone in her grief.
Last night’s moment of need was over, though. She ought to roll away. Her defenses were still down and if she gave in to the compulsion to set her mouth against his skin and signal other needs, she would be in over her head again in no time.
“I can see you trying to make up your mind,” he said in a voice that held a morning rasp. “We’ll take it slower this time.”
His statement instantly infuriated her. “To where? Just because I’m thinking about sex, doesn’t mean I want to stay married.”
“Is that all you want?” A gruff laugh cut from his throat before his thick arms flexed to shift her against him, the subtle friction enough to bring every cell in her body to life. “Because you know I’m always up for that.”
They were nose to nose and she could have given him a hard shove, but she kissed him. With aggression. Daring him to reject her. In fact, she threw her leg across him in a way that was pure muscle memory. Straddling him in the morning had been as routine as their shared breakfast and coffee.
He didn’t roll onto his back to drag her atop him, though. He pressed her onto her back and loomed over her, one hand fondling her breast, teasing her nipple through lace as he kissed the hell out of her. His beard was surprisingly silky. An added sensation as he thrust his tongue between her lips so blatantly, she grew weak with yearning. A helpless noise throbbed in her throat.
He lifted his head and asked, “Is this really what you want?” His hand left her breast and gathered the short silk of her nightgown onto her stomach.
When he discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear, he swore and thrust back the blankets.
“You’ve been naked under this all night?” he hissed in outrage.
“I always—Ohh.”
He traced into her damp curls, parting her swollen folds, sending a rush of throbbing need through her whole body. She groaned and tried to close her legs against the intensity.
“Oh, no,” he growled into her neck, using his body and his good thigh to keep her flat on the bed, legs open. “But be quiet or Marie will hear you.”
He closed his mouth over her nipple and used his tongue to rub the rough lace of her nightgown against the swollen bud. At the same time, he eased two thick fingers into her slick channel.
“Giovanni,” she hissed in acute pleasure, combing her fingers through his hair.
She played her hands over his shoulders, found his earlobes, made him bring his mouth to hers so they could kiss again, but as had often been the case, she was way ahead of him. Moments later, she wound up shattering, her cries of ecstasy muffled by his passionate kiss.
His touch grew tender, his kisses gentle. When she blinked open her eyes, his gray eyes were swirling like molten metal, turbulent with unsatisfied desire.
“Thank you. I needed that.” His touch made a final circle of her damp, still sensitized flesh, sending a latent contraction through her. “I always want you, Freja. Always. Never doubt that. But I want more than this.” He removed his hand and drew her nightgown down her thighs. “I want you to trust me with more than your body.”
He had disarmed her so many times this way, leaving her trembling and pliant. This time she had to shake her head and say, “I don’t know how I can.”
“I know. That’s why I thought we should wait for this.” His rueful gaze went down her body and the tick of his cheek told her of the supreme control he was exercising over his urges. He dropped a last kiss on her mouth, one that had her parting her lips the way dry earth opened its pores to take in the rain after a drought.
When he pulled away, they were both breathing in unsteady pants.
“I’m going to shower. You’d best find your own across the hall.” He sat up on the side of the bed, briefs straining to contain his rigid erection.
“Giovanni.” Her hand impulsively went to his spine, where there were old scars from long-ago surgeries. “Thank you for last night. I needed that.”
He caught her hand and twisted so he could press a kiss into her palm. For one second, she glimpsed a grief so profound, she wanted to pull him back into bed with her.
But he pulled away, transferring himself into his chair before he rolled into the bathroom.
She lay there a long time, hugging his pillow so she could breathe in his scent while she wondered if she really could do as he asked and trust him again.
Giovanni heard the helicopter as he was dressing.
He was still edgy with arousal and annoyed that they had to return to civilization so quickly. The original plan had been for Everett to quietly escort Freja to the SUV without any drama whatsoever. Giovanni had intended to whisk her quietly from the city and have as much time as they needed to reconcile before they were thrust into the spotlight again.
With Freja, however, one always had to expect the unexpected. That’s why Giovanni had followed his intuition and said to the driver, “Pull around to the alley.”