Fighting for Us - Bella Emy Page 0,53

that… your hair a mess, hanging down around your face, your pink-flushed ‘just orgasmed’ cheeks, your breasts sticking out from the top of the sheets, and me knowing that you’re completely naked under there and I had you time and time again? Perfection. You’re pure perfection.”

I giggle and adjust my hair, not really giving a care in the world about it since hearing how he feels about it—me. “That’s funny, because I feel the same way about you,” I say.

He comes up to the bed and leans down to kiss me once more. “Let me go make us something. I’ll be back in a little while and serve you in bed.”

I smile as he pulls back and heads out the door.

He wants to serve me breakfast in bed? I don’t think anyone has ever done that for me before. Not a lover anyway. Sure, I’ve been brought food when I was too sick to get out of bed, but not in a sexual way like he’s indicating.

I let the covers fall off me and move to where he was lying on the bed. I flip over to my belly and close my eyes, breathing in deeply. I can smell his masculine scent, and it sends shivers down my spine. It reminds me of the way he felt when he was on top of me.

When I open my eyes, I take notice of his nightstand and the photograph on it. It’s of a woman with long blonde hair and deep-blue eyes—just like Gianna’s. I instantly realize who it is. It’s his wife.

Or late wife.

She was beautiful, and I frown, thinking once again how hard it must have been on Lorenzo to lose her.

But as I continue looking at the picture, something about her gives me the feeling of déjà vu. Something about her looks so damn familiar. Where have I seen her before?

Something is not sitting right with me.

I can’t put my finger on it, but I know for a fact I’ve seen her before. As a matter of fact, I remember that when I first saw Lorenzo leaving the bar the first night, I thought I had seen him somewhere else too. But where?

Then it hits me. Flashes from five years ago dart to the front of my mind and tears well in my eyes.

I need to get out of here. I need to leave and quickly. I can’t do this anymore.

I hop out of bed and fumble through my clothes, getting dressed.

This was a mistake. I should have never given in and started seeing Lorenzo. I should have stayed in my little hole, curled up to myself.

At least this way I’m taking my heart back off the table for a gamble. I gave him the power to hurt me, even if he doesn’t know it.

Leaving now is going to destroy me inside, but what can I do? I can’t stay. I sure as shit can’t stay. I need to go.

Fuck. My jeans and boots. They’re in the kitchen. I can’t even sneak out through the back.

Whatever. He’s going to know I’m gone sooner or later. I’ll just tell him I had an emergency or something. I don’t know. I just know I have to leave.

I race to the kitchen and see Lorenzo whipping up batter and frying some bacon on the stove. The smell wafts into my nose for the first time, and it smells amazing.

But I can’t stay. I need to leave.

He flips around and sees me grabbing my jeans from one of the dining room chairs. “Hey, you got dressed? I was going to come in and—”

“Something came up,” I say, cutting him off because it’s pointless to let him talk when I already know what he’s going to say, and it’ll just break my heart. “I have to go… the hospital.” I immediately hate myself for using that as my excuse, but it’s the first thing that comes to my mind.

I button my jeans and throw on my boots. It’s a good thing these are just slip-ons.

“You’re leaving? Hey, what’s wrong? Your eyes are all red.” He places the bowl with the batter onto the counter and walks toward me.

But he never reaches me because I back up. “I’m sorry… I’m fine. I have to go.”

I turn around and march toward the front door. My heart is pounding at a million miles per minute, but at the same time, with each step I take, it’s breaking into a million pieces.

I don’t want to leave. It’s the