Page 35 of Vengeful Vows
“Next time, I hope your visit will be longer so the four of us can get together.”
Marcello nods, and I’m happy with Lorenzo’s assumption that Marcello will return with me.
When we’re alone, a black cloud seems to have settled over Marcello. Because of the way Lorenzo kissed my hand? Or is something else going on? Perhaps he’s angry by the realization I’d like to visit with a group of friends?
At any rate, this is a side of Marcello I’ve never seen before, and it’s unsettling.
“Are you ready to go?”
Flustered, I wrap my fingers around the stem of my glass.
“You can bring your glass with you.”
Nodding, I stand and pick up the bag containing the cupcakes, and he grabs the champagne bottle by its throat.
In silence, Sergio leads the way into the elevator.
Whatever is going on between me and Marcello is confusing. Wanting to sort it out, I place my hand on his wrist and look up at him.
Arching a single eyebrow, he meets my gaze with his hooded, intense eyes.
I’m not sure which one of us is more shocked by my gesture. This is the first time I’ve taken the initiative to touch him, but I’m desperate to shatter the tension between us. “Thank you for a memorable evening.”
He tips his head to the side to acknowledge me.
“If it makes you happier, I won’t come to Vegas without you.”Unless we’re no longer together.That thought upsets me.
How has he become so important, so quickly?
He manages to curl his hand around mine. “Thank you.”
Within moments, we’ve reached our floor, and he hasn’t released me.
Once Sergio has made a sweep of the apartment, he takes his leave, and Marcello places the half-full bottle on the kitchen counter. Then he informs Sir Percival he’s brought it back with him.
“I’ll remember this day forever.”
“I’d pull down the moon and offer it to you, Bella. You’ve only to ask.”
This man… His mood has changed, and intimacy crackles in the air, every bit as potent as a lightning storm.
“Come to me, Bella.”
He’s going to kiss me. Since that first night, I’ve been craving this so hard it’s been driving me mad.
Softly, my heels tapping a staccato that matches the pounding of my heart, I obey.
He captures my face between his strong palms and brushes my lips with his thumb. “Open your mouth for me, little flower.”
Surrendering, I do as he says.
“Farther.”
Nerves ribbon through my pelvis.
Then I’m in his arms, and he touches his tongue to mine, tenderly at first, and then with more passion.
He tastes of the crisp bubbly, of heat, of sin.