So I go.
I lower my head the last couple of inches and press my mouth to his.
Fourteen
Elodie
Salvatore loops one brawny arm around my waist while his other hand rises to tease into my hair. He tugs me closer as he eagerly returns the kiss, but more like an invitation than a demand.
Still giving me space. Showing how much he wants me but avoiding confining me, no matter how much he’d like to keep me here with him.
Because that’s how much I matter to him already.
I don’t know if the other Salvatore could have demonstrated this much self-control. I never really felt like I could say no to him, or that it’d be fair to. I owed him so much…
This Salvatore has gone three more years being hardened by his family—and learning how to navigate the treacherous waters he’s immersed in. He’s more equipped to strike a careful balance, to chart his own path rather than being swept up in the current.
And he came to me rather than being dragged into the match.
I’m never going to have to worry that he’s disappointed in the mate fate gave him.
Riding on the joy of that thought, I kiss him harder.
A groan reverberates from Salvatore’s chest. He adjusts me against him, and suddenly the bulge in his pants is flush against my sex, so hard and ready the feel of it dizzies me.
The need for connection and the pulse of our bond thumps through my veins. As our lips collide again, I rock against him with a groan of my own.
Salvatore’s fingers curl into my hair with a perfect tug against my scalp. His tongue parts my mouth to delve inside and tangle with my own. I meet him thrust for thrust, drunk on the taste of him.
“That’s my girl,”the Salvatore in my head murmurs, with no trace of anything but satisfaction.“Look how much he wants to give you, a chroí. You can enjoy it all.”
And I can give just as good in return.
I trail my fingers down Salvatore’s chest to the hem of his shirt and yank it upward. He releases my mouth for long enough to help me strip the tee off him.
His eyes have darkened with lust, but he gives my jaw a playfully gentle nip before grasping the base of my own tee in obvious question.
My heart skips a beat. I want to—fuck, how much I want to—but I have no way to explain the scars that mottle my skin across both my chest and my back. I didn’t even bother putting an undershirt on this morning since I wasn’t expecting this get-together.
I still Salvatore’s hands with mine, a genuine blush warming my cheeks that may help to sell my story. “I… I’ve never gotten naked with anyone before. I think I’ll be able to relax more if I’m not totally exposed. But maybe…”
I tuck my arms inside the short sleeves and wriggle out ofmy bra. As I toss it onto the coffee table, a smirk crosses Salvatore’s lips that looks nothing but pleased. “Whatever makes you happiest, mia amata. We can work up to it.”
We won’t, but I can’t tell him that. Instead, I gaze down at him in his delectably semi-nude state.
Black tattoos I’ve only seen part of before wind up both his upper arms from elbow to shoulder—the coiling bodies of twin serpents.
I skim my fingertips over the dark lines. “Why snakes?”
Why not the barbed wire the other Salvatore chose?
Salvatore’s gaze follows my hand. “Being honest? Mostly I thought they looked intimidating. But there are a lot of stories about snakes. They can heal, or they can kill. I like to think no one knows what side of me they’re going to get.”
He winks at me and twists so I can make out part of his upper back. “The snakes are for my Italian side. The raven is for the Irish. Bringer of war. Anyone who messes with me will regret it.”
A black wing stretches across his shoulder blade almost to the snake’s head. I assume it’s mirrored on the opposite side. The inked lines pick up every detail of the scales and feathers.
“They’re stunning,” I tell him.