how to not touch you. Can’t determine how not to crave being in your arms every second because I’m mad about you.”
Santino’s eyes lock onto mine. Every inch of my body is terrified, electrified. Though he’s wearing leather gloves, I imagine his fingertips as his gloved hand trails along my cheek. Suddenly, my breathing is erratic, like it did when adjusting to the thinning air.
His breath warms along my face as I relish in the kiss he drops on the tip of my nose. The ice-blue walls reflect in his deep, dark eyes. Santino murmurs, “Tell me you love me, Gina.”
I loop around my shoulders, pulling his body to mine. His mouth hovers over mine, lingering inches away. His eyes silently repeat what his mouth already craved.
Looking up at Santino, I find my voice. “I’m in love with your hugs, arguing with you. Santi, your love for your ma—that’s a real biggie for me. I’m in love with how gentle you are with me. I am beyond in love with you, Santino Morelli. Even when I tried to doubt it, I love you soooo much.”
His warm breath feels amazing along my skin. “Oh, baby, never doubt your love for me. It’s the one thing I’m sure if.”
He’s all over me, kissing, clutching, and hugging. We kiss until our bodies stir, begging for oxygen. Then I’m glancing at the chilled wine. “Oh, crap. I forgot what I had to tell you.”
Kneading my shoulders, Santino replies, “Baby, you’ve said all I’ve needed for a while now.”
I walk away from his intense stare, stopping before an icicle. “But when I admitted to loving you and also wanting to kill you.”
“That hurt a little, Bella.”
“Sorry,” I say, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Anyway, I was supposed to say my threat to your life was love or purely hormonal.” I mollify the truth with a weak smile. “Like a ‘bun in the oven’ hormonal.”
“Are you serious, Gina?”
“Well, I’m not certain. Still waiting for—”
In a quick stride, Santino’s hoisting me off my feet. “Bella, we need to go check. Now. You were drinking like a fucking madman last week.”
“I was,” I murmur, cringing. “Maybe I’m not.”
“Maybe you are.”
We can’t get down the hill quickly enough. While I’m in the truck with sunglasses on, Santino went into a corner pharmacy store. He comes out, taking purposeful steps. Instead of getting into the truck, he comes to my window. I press a button. The glass zips down, letting in the chilly air.
“Bella, come use the restroom.”
“Sorry, I can’t just urinate on demand or at some public toilet. I’m still a Galloway.”
Rolling his eyes, and with half a smile on his face, he walks around the truck. Santino climbs into the driver’s side. Ten minutes later, he’s at the center divider, at a red arrow prepared to turn left into the entrance of the inn.
“Santi,” I mumble, gripping his arm. He follows my gaze. In the parking lot are a swarm of police cruisers. “Do you think . . .”
“I’m not chancing it, Bella.”
“Should I reach out to my . . .”
“The day after your birthday.” He winks.
I sigh. “I don’t know anyone’s number by heart anymore anyway. Where are we going now?”
“Somewhere that will have your gorgeous mahogany eyes sparkling just for me.”
My heart warms over. In a few days, I’ll clear this mess we’ve made. For now, I’ve grown more sympathetic for the time Geraldine went to Jamaica. She’d been missing for months before she resurfaced married. Dad is the only one in the dark about it since he’d never approve anyway.
56
Santino
We arrive at the lake house at nightfall. Gina’s running around each room, shouting how she wants to give me head on the chandelier. Then she’s declaring how she’ll be spread eagle over the fireplace in the master suite bathroom.
“Bella, what are you drunk off? All those ass and hips will catch fire.”
“Oh, whatever, Bad Santa,” she snorts. “I’m drunk off love. Where are you going?”
Fist an ax in my hand. “My Bella’s waking up on Christmas Day to a tree . . .”
She transfixes me with a glittery gaze. “I assume there’ll be at least one present beneath the tree? Something shiny, formed under pressure, perhaps?”
Leaning the ax against my leg, I pull the beanie from her hair. The usual sleek spirals are puffed up. I smooth my hands over them, planting a kiss on her mouth. “I can’t attest to any gifts, shiny or otherwise. I didn’t get anything for Christmas, remember?”
“Humph, we