Page 78 of Irreplaceable
I closed my eyes and bit back a moan. Being this close to him after months apart only reinforced the memories. The ache I still felt for him despite my efforts to ignore it.
And while I could’ve stayed mad at him for his accusations, for the lies, I could understand why he’d done what he had. Enzo might be passionate and hotheaded at times, but he seemed genuinely contrite.
I was still trying to reconcile the fact that my Enzo was actually the world-famous soccer player Lorenzo Mancini. He had fame and wealth beyond my wildest dreams, but it all seemed so far removed from here. And the more I got to know him, the more I could understand his desire to separate himself from that life.
“Enzo,” I sighed, wanting nothing more than to sink into this moment, into him.
I was so tired. Tired of doing it all on my own, of carrying this big secret. Of being freaking exhausted. And for the first time, I didn’t feel so alone.
The past few hours had been a roller coaster of emotions, and it felt like the ride was finally pulling back into the station. My nose burned, and a tear streaked down my cheek.
“Don’t cry, uccellina,” he rasped. “Please don’t cry.”
His expression, his words, the fact that he was here—it was all too much. My eyes fluttered closed, and I sensed he was going to kiss me before he did. He pressed his lips to my cheek ever so softly, kissing away my tears.
He kissed me again, this time on the lips. It was gentle and sweet, and I opened my eyes to find him staring back at me.
“Sei così bella.” He tilted his forehead to mine. He’d told me I was beautiful. And in that moment, when he repeated, “Così bella, amore mio.” I believed it.
He cupped my cheeks, running his thumbs back and forth. “I missed you. I missed the way you make me feel.”
“How’s that?” I asked, curious.
“Like a different man. Like the man I want to be, not the one everyone thinks I am.”
I liked that I got a secret part of him, a side that no one else saw. That was just for me.
“I missed you too,” I said, finally admitting it to myself. I’d been miserable since leaving Bali, and it wasn’t just the hormones.
He peppered kisses down my neck, and everything about his touch was gentle. He didn’t stop, and my skin heated everywhere he touched. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I was pleased to realize that so far, my memories matched up with reality.
And then…he held me to him and smoothed down my hair. I didn’t know how long we lay there, just holding each other. His skin was so warm and his hold comforting. I kept waiting for him to initiate sex, to push for more. But he didn’t, finally pressing a gentle kiss to my temple before returning to his side of the bed to switch off the lamp.
I was glad it was dark, so I wouldn’t have to hide my disappointment. I couldn’t believe he was going to stop. Why now? Why was he pulling back when my body was urging full steam ahead and my mind was finally on board?
I shifted, trying to get comfortable before finally turning so my back was to him. The bed dipped behind me. He rolled so that he was spooning me, his arms draped over mine. This seemed a lot more intimate than sex.
“Um, is this necessary?” I asked, though I didn’t want him to let go.
He nuzzled into my neck. “I’m just trying to bond with my child through cuddling.”
“Mm. And I suppose it’s just convenient that said child happens to be located inside me.”
“Exactly. Sleep now. Sogni d’oro, Harper.”
“Sweet dreams to you too,” I whispered.
The longer I lay there, the more I tried to convince myself that he’d done the right thing. We’d had a vacation fling, but now our lives were intertwined in a way that couldn’t easily be untangled. Having sex would only complicate the situation further, and I wasn’t sure I could keep my feelings out of it this time.