Page 155 of Capuleto
"No! It's what I feel."
"Okay, I believe you. Well, if that's what you feel, why don't you lean in a bit to get the kiss you deserve? I don't want us to miss out on kisses to give, and what I want most is to lose myself in your lips forever."
Andrey leaned in, placed his hands on either side of my face, and sought my mouth tentatively, giving me one of those kisses that are felt more than given. His tongue delighted in mine, igniting the embers of passion that always throbbed in our mouths. He caressed my face, giving meaning to the "I love you" that isn't said, but breathed.
It was impossible for my men not to notice the infinite love we professed for each other, because it was too intense, too palpable.
He rested his forehead against mine, suspended in my gaze, in my breath, in every pore of my skin, which screamed a future together.
"I love you," he whispered against my lips.
"And I love you too."
64
Cross-stitch
The door of the place opened, and Yuri entered with blood-stained pants.
I was already feeling much better. The fever had completely subsided, and eating solid food had given me strength. Yuri leaned on the table and pulled down his pants to assess the depth of the wound. A good chunk of flesh had been torn away.
“What happened?” I asked with my pulse racing.
“A scratch.”
“That’s more than a scratch.”
“You should see the others to judge, they’ve turned into meat for Bolognese sauce.”
My heart sank. Yuri didn’t reference that sauce for nothing; I could read the connotation between the lines of what he wanted to convey. Italians, he had faced them, and he only got a scratch.
“You should go to the doctor to get stitched up.”
“What for? You can treat me. Cheng, bring us the first aid kit.”
“Your sister is right,” she interceded, heading to the kitchen with a calm step. “The wound is ugly, and look what happened to Nikita.”
“It may not win a beauty contest, but my sister can handle it. Right, Kalinka? You’ve always been good at crafts.”
“That was Irisha,” I corrected him. “What I was good at was causing wounds.”
“Yes, you were always the most bloodthirsty.”
The Chinese woman brought the first aid kit.
Yuri’s eyes were gleaming, expectant. He was amused by the situation. He didn’t care what I thought, but I would still say it.
“I don’t know if I’m the most suitable for the task.”
“You’re not scared of blood.”
“That’s not it.” I opened the box, took the chlorhexidine spray, and sprayed it on the wound.
I knew the product. Ana María used it on Adriano when he got scratches. I missed that little rascal, he had earned a place in my heart, and I guessed he would be worried about my absence. In the end, we learned to get along. I wiped the area around the wound with gauze.
“The blood will keep flowing if you don’t get stitches.”
“Well, then, let’s get to it, sew me up with needle and thread. A little bird told me you’re good with pins.” I glanced at Cheng, who rolled her eyes discreetly.