when you look at me… it means what we had is over.”
What we had. We hadn’t even put a name to it, hadn’t allowed us to define something that went against many odds. I hadn’t allowed myself to put too much importance into our liaison. I’d tried to tell myself it was only about having fun and getting closer to a Falcone, but now that I saw our bond crumble right before my eyes, I realized it had been more than just fun. More than I should have ever allowed. More than my father would ever accept.
He bent his head, capturing my gaze with his. His scent, warm and spicy, wrapped around me. “How am I looking at you?”
I laughed bitterly and pointed the glowing tip at his face. “Like this. The same way my father looked at me when Remo handed me back to him. As if I was a broken puppet. Your favorite puppet that you took out to play every day but suddenly it had an irreparable crack, and now you can’t ever play with it again because you fear it might break apart if you do. So, you’ll put it on a shelf and hardly ever look at it because whenever you do, you’re sad about what you lost. That’s how you look at me, Adamo. So, go your merry way, I’ll survive.”
I wouldn’t let our relationship continue because Adamo acted out of pity, because he didn’t have the balls to end it with poor me.
I was a survivor. I would survive Adamo walking away, not without my dark craving, but I would survive one way or another. Still, my stomach twisted at the thought that this could be our final goodbye—even if goodbye was inevitable for us.
Adamo shook his head. “Bullshit. I never played with you, and I won’t go my merry way. We aren’t over and I won’t allow you to put a wedge between us.” He gripped my shoulders, not gentle at all, and my stupid heart pounded with hope. “Nothing changed between us.”
And yet everything had. His eyes told the truth. If we wanted a chance, Adamo needed to see me as the girl I’d been before he’d known the truth. He had to see me as a separate being from the poor girl from the video. I wasn’t sure if he could. Dad had tried and failed. I never resented him for it. He was my father. I accepted the way he looked at me because we were family. But I wouldn’t do the same for Adamo. I couldn’t. I needed this part of my life to be only for Dinara, and not poor abused Katinka. “Then fuck me, Adamo. Fuck me like you would have two days ago and not like I’m breakable.” I dropped the cigarette and crushed it under my boot. “Or can’t you do it now that you feel pity for me?”
Adamo cupped my neck, heat and anger battling in his eyes. “I don’t pity the girl in front of me, Dinara. I pity that girl from the past. But you…you are tough as nails. You don’t need my fucking pity.”
I nodded, as much to confirm his words as to convince myself that I’d really left every bit of that little girl behind. Deep down I knew she still cowered in a dark part of my brain, small and frightened, threatening to burst forth. I wanted her out of there, and by now I had an idea how to finally succeed.
“Fuck me,” I breathed.
Adamo jerked me against his body, his tongue dipping into my mouth. I opened up for him, threw my arms around his neck and molded our bodies together. Adamo squeezed my breast through my tank then tugged at my pebbled nipple. I raked my fingers through his wavy hair, bit down on his lower lip only to sooth it with my tongue a moment later. He pressed his palm against my crotch and I arched against him, wanting to feel his touch on bare skin.
“Get a room,” someone called. I was too disoriented from our kiss to know who it was. Adamo grabbed my hand and tugged me along. I followed him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest, my center tingling with need. Adamo dragged me into the old gas station, past a surprised Crank. “Get out,” Adamo snarled, and Crank did with a muttered curse. Then we stumbled into the backroom with its old freezer and scattered boxes. The stench of moldy