bodies touched. Even on my tiptoes I couldn’t reach his lips. “Savio,” I said softly. “Please.” I didn’t need to say what I wanted, he knew.
“You’ll regret this.”
“Maybe,” I said, but right this second, I needed this more than air.
Finally, Savio let me pull him down and his lips pressed against mine.
I sunk into his taste, his warmth. I yearned for him, all of him. His strength and scent were intoxicating. His tongue teased, stroked, caressed. His hands kept me steady, brushed over my back, then cupped my cheeks, deepening the kiss further.
I was completely at his mercy. His presence made me feel protected, cared for. Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned into him, needing to be closer.
“Fuck, Gem, you taste perfect,” he rasped between delicious swipes of his tongue. I couldn’t reply, slave to the sensations the kiss evoked in me. After days of cold, I felt warm. He lowered me on the bench, never stopping the kiss as he bent over me. I clung to his neck, wrapped my legs around his middle as he knelt before me.
The bells started ringing, announcing the exit of the congregation.
I froze and Savio pulled out of our kiss. Our lips were still brushing as we panted.
“We’re in church,” I whispered horrified over my own shamelessness. How could I have let this happen? Nonna and Dad would have been so ashamed of me. This was a day for grieving, not for this.
I could feel myself crumbling, wasn’t sure how to stop it.
“Hey,” Savio said, brushing my cheek. “You always wanted your first kiss in church. That didn’t happen, but at least we made your second kiss work.”
I shook my head, unable to speak under the weight of my guilt.
Savio became serious and cupped my face firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. His dark eyes were fierce with a hint of compassion. “We don’t live for the dead. We live for the living. If kissing me helps you deal with your grief, then nobody’s got a right to judge you or I’ll cut them down.”
I released a shaky breath as a weight lifted itself off my chest. Slowly, I lowered my legs from Savio’s waist, but we stayed close. I’d promised myself to keep my distance from him to punish him, but in this moment, I was being unflinchingly selfish, because he was the only one who could stop me from drowning in my sadness.
Gemma’s lips were parted. My lips still burned from our kiss. I wished I knew what she was thinking.
Her gaze dropped to my scar on my wrist which she’d started tracing. I resisted the urge to push her away, allowing her this. Her brows pulled tight. “How do you keep going?”
I covered her hand with mine, stilling her wandering fingers. “For one, to spite the people who tried to kill me.”
She let out a small, sad laugh. “After losing someone, I mean…”
I’d never lost someone I loved. When I’d found out our father had been killed, I’d felt anger on Remo’s behalf because he’d wanted to kill the man himself, but not a flicker of sadness. And my mother… I hated her with every cell in my body. “You just do. You don’t focus on what you lost but on what you have.”
She looked away. “I lost half of my family. It feels like I lost part of myself. What could possibly take their place?”
“You’ll soon have a bigger family, Gem. My family. They won’t replace what you lost, but they’ll fill the void all the same.”
Gemma turned to me. “That’s the first time you said that I was going to be part of your family.”
I’d been a goddamn bastard to her. “Of course, you’re going to be part of my family. You’ll be my wife.”
She swallowed and began to pull away. I stood and helped her to her feet.
“We should head out to the graveyard. My family needs me.”
I nodded and together we returned into the now empty church. We drove to the graveyard in my car. They were lowering the caskets into the ground when we arrived.
Diego gave me a curt nod. Gemma slipped her hand in mine and I squeezed briefly. She didn’t release me even as we stood on her family’s side. Tears streamed down her face, and even then, even without a stroke of makeup, she was gorgeous. When the casket hit the ground, Diego’s mother ripped out of his grip and fell to her knees at the edge of the hole. She