Diavolo

xviii

"Give me a kiss, dolcezza." I was a greedy man, I wanted to steal every single kiss before this would be over and I didn't mind if that made me look like a sappy son of a bitch.

She watched me quietly, shooting daggers into my head and I knew she was thinking of digging the stilettos of her heels into my right eye but regardless, she clutched my shirt in her fist, and brought my face down, and my lips met hers for a chaste kiss.

The kiss reached down inside the dead parts of me, building a small fire and left promises of redemption, and hope for my dead soul.

The smell of her strawberry scent shampoo mixed with my body wash wafted into my nose, making me wonder if she tasted just as sweet as she smelled.

Something in her demeanor changed, and her body went lax, relaxing for a slight second which was the effect I'd hoped for. A hand curled around the nape of my neck, tugging and playing with my hair like she'd become accustomed to.

I broke off the kiss, taking her bottom lip between my teeth and tugging gently. "Trust me. Can you do that for me?" I murmured in a husky voice, my fingertips drifting over her cheek.

I broke off the kiss, my gaze darting over her face, searching for something, a tell, something which could tell me what she was thinking.

Her eyes closed on a deep breath, and it'd taken every bit of my willpower to not throw her into my arms and whisk her to some goddamn country no one would find her, and spoil every single piece of her.

"Okay." She responded and opened those big brown eyes to meet mine. "Don't break my trust, Silvio."

"I won't." I answered without a doubt. "I won't so let me help you, hm?"

She nodded slowly, softness radiating in her eyes but I could still tell that the events that'd occurred earlier were disturbing her. The woman always had the ability to lie to everyone except me or maybe I saw right past her bullshit.

I'd recognized that she was the type of woman who didn't want a soft love but she deserved it. A woman with the beauty of an angel and a personality of a daredevil.

As I drove down the busy New York street, the sunlight glowed a bright shimmering gold rushing towards her face, and illuminated her soft features.

        Her face was calm and impasse but her light brown eyes mixed with warm honey from the sun's fixation were stormy and hot.

She shifted her gaze to the car mirror where I was already watching her, and immediately, she looked away as if it was unbearable to look at me.

I wondered if I would ever make it through a day without seeing this woman whose touch I'd come to crave so much like a drug.

        It obliterated whatever fear and anxiety I had of touching the opposite sex and made me crave more of hers. Only her.

I placed my bare hand on the gear shift, making a note to avoid wearing gloves around her if it didn't burn too much. This was the first time I hadn't worn my gloves consistently for the past week.

My thoughts ceased to exist when I felt the light brush of her finger against mine.

        She'd causally placed a hand beside the gear shift but instead of initiating the touch, she slowly brushed her pinky against mine. Not too much force but just enough to get my blood rushing.