I place my hand on his chest. It’s burning. I’m surprised his shirt doesn’t just erupt in flames. His blue-green eyes have this new intensity that leaves me quivering. Every inch of him is tempting me to sinful release, and no part of me wants to resist.
“How could I say no to that?” I reach down and give his balls a squeeze, softly at first, then a little harder. But not hard enough to hurt. I’m not a monster. “But that means you have to leave me alone until tonight. I want to make you wait.”
“You’re a tease.” He smiles, grabbing his wrist and moving my hand up and down over his cock. It’s already rock-solid, bulging out of his pants.
I snatch my hand away. “Nuh-uh. A deal’s a deal.”
He steps back. Red paint flecks his manly jaw, making him look like a warrior from the past who’s just returned from a battle. I’ve mussed his hair up—a habit I can’t break. He looks gentlemanly and handsome and barbaric at the same time. My perfect mixture.
“You’re killing me, Hazel.”
“I’ll do worse than that tonight, I promise. Now scram.”
He shakes his head, raising his hands. “You’re going to pay for speaking to me like that tonight.”
When he leaves, I return to my work, my center tingling so crazily that all I want is to scream for him to come back here. I focus on the painting instead, deciding that tonight I’ll tell him about the baby. After the sex, when we’re both relaxed and happy, I’ll break the news. And the other thing? My past?
Yes, I decide. It’s time to put up or shut up.
I tell myself that everything’s going to be okay. This won’t change anything.
We’ll still be Carlo and Hazel. Fire and snow and shadow.
I hope.
“Alda, it’s a club, not a ball.”
She pouts at me in the full-length mirror. “You want to look your best, dear, believe me. People will be watching the new De Maggio queen. They will want to see that Carlo has chosen wisely.”
“Queen?” I laugh. “What on earth are you talking about?”
She gives me a look as if to say, Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.
“It’s only a matter of time before you and Carlo are engaged—”
“Whoa, whoa!” I laugh, shaking my head so that one of her hair clips dislodges. She catches it deftly. “You’re getting way ahead of yourself. Like, lightyears. We’re going to a club to relax and let our hair down. My hair, anyway, not that those clips are helping. We’re not …” I shake my head again. “Jesus, Alda.”
She gives me a little slap on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen Carlo like this. He cares about you. You care about him. You’ve got a baby on the way—”
“How do you know that?” I hiss. I glance at the door, thinking about Emily. I thought I could trust her.
She reads my look. “Oh, so Emily did know, then.” She smiles. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Before my injury, I was quite the socialite, believe it or not. I had many, many female friends. We all became very adept at guessing when the others were pregnant. There are signs for those who know how to look for them.”
“So you’re a witch doctor now,” I grumble. “Please don’t—”
“It’s not my place to tell Carlo. But you will have to, sooner or later.”
“I am. Tonight.” I reach up and start taking out the clips. “Sorry, Alda, but I want to wear it down tonight.” The hurt look on her face makes me feel guilty. “Maybe we could curl it or something?”
She beams as she dances across the room to get the curling iron. “What a wonderful idea.”
So when I’m finally walking out to the car to join Carlo, I know it’s more urgent than ever that I tell him about the baby tonight. I don’t trust Alda to be able to keep it from him for long. If Emily’s stories are anything to go by, Alda can be a bit of a gossip.
Carlo is leaning against the car, looking me up and down as I approach in the glittering dress Alda wrapped me in. I lift the hem of it just a little to expose a sliver of thigh, giving him a tantalizing look.
He shakes his head. “You’re trying to fucking kill me.”
“Oh, and what’s the cause of death?” I ask as he opens the door for me.
“Blood loss.” He climbs in after me. “Definitely blood loss.”