She studies me for a moment—her eyes moving over my face with that careful attention she always gives when she’s trying to read me, to see past whatever mask I’m wearing.
“You found him.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes search my face, too perceptive for her own good.
“You didn’t kill him.”
“No.”
“Why?”she asks.
I could give her the practical answer.The political one.Alessandro.The empire.The careful maneuvering required to keep everything from falling apart.But none of it would be the truth.
I take a breath.“I couldn’t kill the one person who has been the most honest with me in my life.When I was a boy and everyone else was telling me what they thought I should hear, Matteo told me the truth.Every time.Even when it hurt.”I pause, my jaw working.“He never lied to me, and I owe him that loyalty in return.He saved me.He was the only one I could trust when I had no one else.”
She nods slowly, her hand finding mine in the rain.
“And because I saw him with Emery,” I continue.“I understood.”
Her brow furrows slightly, confusion flickering across her face.“Understood what?”
I turn, shifting on the bench so that I’m facing her.So she can see everything in my eyes as I say this.
“I understand why he burned everything for her now,” I tell her.“Because some women get into your blood and make the whole fucking world rearrange itself around whether they’re safe.”
Her lips part and I notice her eyes widen just slightly.
“I left this house this morning thinking I had to kill my cousin,” I say.“All day, all I wanted was to get back here to you.”
“Lorenzo…”
I lean in and kiss her.Slowly at first.A brush of my mouth against hers.She kisses me back immediately, her hands coming up to my chest, fingers fisting in my soaked shirt as though she needs something solid to hold on to.As though I’m the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth.
I groan into her mouth.The kiss deepens fast, hunger overtaking.Heat chasing heat.My hand slides into her wet hair, tangling in the strands, gripping just hard enough to tilt her head back so I can take more.
I taste rain as the last of her sadness dissolves against my mouth.
She climbs into my lap without breaking the kiss.I automatically grip her hips, helping her straddle me on the narrow stone bench, the wet fabric bunching as she settles over me.I can feel her heat even through our soaked clothes, the way she presses against me as if she’s trying to crawl inside my skin.
“Bella,” I murmur against her lips, my voice rough and strained.
Her hands glide to my face, cradling my jaw, her thumbs brushing my cheekbones.“Take me inside.”
“Or,” I say, against her skin, my mouth moving to her throat, tasting rain and her, “I’ll fuck you right here and let the rain wash the rest of him off you.”
Her breath punches out of her.
“Jesus Christ.”
I pull back just enough to look at her, a dark smile curving my mouth.“Not usually who women pray for on my cock.”
Chapter Seventeen
Isabella
Theraindoesn’tletup.It hammers, pools in the cracks between the pavers, and runs in cold rivulets down the back of my neck, yet I cannot feel any of it.All that registers is him.The heat of his hands through the wet fabric of my dress.The way his words have settled low in my stomach and fucking detonated.