I sighed in defeat. “If you want your eyes, you will keep your hands to yourself.”
He had the audacity to laugh at me. My head whipped to his, my eyes lowered to slits, and the drum pounded in my ears once again. The scowl on my face made my forehead tight. I crossed my arms and tapped the foot even harder.
“You have a mean temper,” he said, coming closer. He bent down on one knee beside me, one hand resting on my leg, ceasing the tap. He went to take my hand, but I refused. He gave me a look that brokered no deal. “Don’t.” One word. A command. Lowering his head, he placed a soft kiss on each of my knuckles.
Though my hand was his, I scowled at him even harder. But he was looking up at me with the most guileless eyes; the weight of his stare felt like a burden—heavy enough that a silent sigh escaped my lips. Moments passed between us in the quiet space, except for the melodic music floating beneath the door.
“We fight.” My voice came out on a breath, so soft. “Then we love.”
He searched my eyes for a moment, his hardening, revealing none of their intent. “Yeah. We do. It’s who we are. You’re mine, Scarlett Rose. You love me. You hate me. You love me. But there’s no room for indifference. I won’t allow it.”
He removed his hand from mine, cupping my cheek, his thumb stroking the edge of my lips, almost tracing their shape. Closing my eyes, I leaned into his warm embrace, breathing in the scent of his skin so close to mine.
No, I hadn’t been wrong. His scent had been in the air; now it was all consuming, absorbing into pores and running under skin. Right where he belonged. Rushing through my blood.
“Patience, Scarlett.” He moved in even closer, his breath warm against my face. My lips parted to breath him in. “You have to have patience. Give me the pleasure of watching, of seeing, of knowing that the most beautiful woman in the room is mine. This is all new to me too. The reaction I have to you.” His hands trembled ever so slightly against my skin, and when his mouth met mine, it was in a soft caress. “I can’t control it.”
A chill ran over me at the same time heat infused skin. “You don’t have to,” the words were out before I could stop them. A man built in the reflection of Brando Fausti was not a man who thrived on the loss of control, of his own will, but somehow, I had broken his barrier and took his world and made it ours. There were times when I felt how much he wanted it, as though it were a visceral thing in the room with us, claiming our love for its own. Other times, I felt the same feeling, though flipped upside down. He raged against the surrender, as though it were an internal battle that he had to win.
I can’t control it. True. But another spin on this was that he enjoyed wrestling it into place, keeping it locked behind bars, until that moment came when he decided to surrender to it. Watching me translated into delayed gratification for him.
He watched me for some time, doing just as I had predicted. I couldn’t open my eyes to meet his stare. Not now.
I fiddled with the cool fabric of the gown. “Ace and Travis?”
“Tell me who you belong to, Scarlett.”
“You,” I breathed out, no hesitation.
This time, I leaned into him. I breathed in and he rushed through me; fire against paper. Opening my eyes, I had the pleasure of watching his close, just before I kissed him—gentle and slow. After the kiss ended, he still hadn’t opened his eyes.
“Scarlett.”
“Yes?”
“Time. I need time.”
I watched him, even though he still had his eyes closed. “Not at the cabins…not with my parents in town—”
He shook his head. “No, not there.”
“Where?”
“I have a place.”
“All right,” I agreed, a bit breathless. “For how long?”
Finally, he looked at me.
“As long as we have.”
I mentally prepared myself for the lies I would have to tell. Spending time with Violet came to mind. No problem there. I would just have to come home for Christmas. My father had extended an invitation for Brando to join us. He had accepted. Afterward, my parents usually spent time in the Swiss Alps…