No Strings Attached

Chapter Thirty

God. Everything feels different. I press my hands to my face, trying to get the image out. It's like a plague to my mind. I never thought I'd ever see what Giovanni would look like that angry. I trusted I wouldn't.

"Why?" I cry, looking at him imploringly. "Why did you do that?"

He looks completely thrown, completely lost. "Scarlett."

"WHY?"

"Because I hate him! Because knowing that man has laid his hands on you in retaliation, watching him grab you like that and pull you around like a fucking doll, it made me want to kill him, Scarlett!"

I exhale at his bluntness. He steps forward, holding out his hands. I thought I'd want to pull back, but I don't move an inch. He clasps onto my face tenderly, wiping my tears.

"I'm sorry, Scarlett. I'm so sorry. Please don't end this, please."

I look down, knowing that the way I'm shaking isn't normal. Knowing the way my mind is twisting what Giovanni did to try and defend me into something dark and horrifying isn't normal.

I'm not normal.

"I couldn't see him hurt you. I couldn't watch him try to hurt you anymore," he breathes, kissing my temple, my forehead, my hair softly. I look at him, my heart tightening and aching at the same time. I want to touch him and I want to push him away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, over and over again, the fear, the pain in his voice clear as day. I rest my hands against his hips weakly.

My lips quiver violently. "I know."

I do know. I know he's sorry. I know he only meant to defend me.

I know that any other woman would probably be worshipping him at his feet right now for defending me from an abusive ex-husband who spends his days tormenting me.

But they haven't witnessed what I have.

They don't know what it's like to go to sleep at night and still see an image of my mother contorted on the ground, unconscious. They don't know what it's like to hear the front door shut and cringe with fear, knowing what the wood sounds like closing when your husband is out of his mind drunk.

It's Giovanni's loving kisses, his gentle touch that brings me back from that darkness. His pleads and soft whispers of apology. I feel my muscles begin to soften, relaxing as my body exhaustedly leans into him, spent from the horrific day I endured.

"God, please, stop shaking," he begs, as if I could control it, almost like he's saying it to himself. "Please."

***

I sit down onto the side of the bed, pulling a nightgown over my head, my hair wet from a hot shower. I grab the cream on my nightstand as Giovanni steps out of the bathroom in a towel, pulling his dark hair back. It's straight and long, the water soaking his curls.

I look at him, my eyes burning. "I have some cream for your cuts. Come here."

He comes around the bed and I hear him inhale deeply. The tension between us almost unbearable. I hate it. I'm stunned when he bends down in front of me, grabbing my hands in both of his. I grimace at the red, swollen cuts marring his knuckles on his right hand.

"Please, look at me," he whispers softly. I do. I look at him.

His eyes are beseeching. "Scarlett, I didn't think of what my actions would do to you. I didn't even think. I know you saw me in a different light tonight, but please, please understand it's because that man has abused you. He's hurt you, Scarlett."

He gapes, looking down. "You have become so important to me... so quickly. I'd do anything to keep you safe. Anything."

I stare at him and my heart fills as if there were water inside of it.

It fucking overflows.

I gape slowly. "I know it's not easy to be with me. I know that and I'm sorry."

"Don't," he breathes, looking back up. "Don't say you're sorry. I fucked up, you didn't. I don't want to be like him. I don't want you to feel you have to apologize when you've done nothing wrong."

"I haven't turned him into the police. I haven't gotten a restraining order. This is my fault, I know that. And I've fucking dragged you into all of this... this bullshit—" I wipe the water on my cheeks that won't stop coming down, shaking my head angrily.

"There's nowhere I'd rather be, Scarlett," he whispers, clasping the back of my neck. I lean towards him and he presses his forehead to mine. "Nowhere."

I hear the sobs ripping through my chest, but no tears. Just pure anxiety. Pure overwhelming emotion. It's hard to breathe. My hands hold his face, tilting his jaw upwards to my face. He exhales with relief against my mouth as his lips graze my own, not yet settling.

We're keeping each other at bay. Just holding each other.

My eyes are shut tightly. I'm consumed with my pain, my love.

I open my mouth, touching his again, so gently. He's waiting for me to kiss him. He's waiting for me to be ready.

My eyes open when my mouth rests over his. He kisses me back, holding the nape of my neck in his hands. His lip is swollen and probably hurts like hell but he doesn't let me know it.

"Giovanni," I breathe, grabbing my nightgown. "Giovanni."

He pulls back enough so I can get the dress over my head. The minute the material is pooled on the ground, he's kissing me again. I slide back on the mattress and he follows suit, removing his towel, leaving it behind as he climbs onto the bed and over me.

Needing to touch him, to bring me back to us, I reach out, clasping his face as his lips cover my own, achingly slow, both of his hands pressed into the mattress beside my head.

I part my legs so he can settle between them, sighing nervously when he enters me with an intimate tenderness. He goes slow, so slow and I'm okay with it.

This isn't for pleasure. This isn't sex we are used to.

There's no dirty words. No ropes or restraints. No orders.

This isn't a fuck.

This is making love.

He moves within me deeply, shivering while my hands glide over his soft skin, his taut backside, guiding him to our rocking rhythm. He clasps my face, staring down at me, whispering to me his apologies, wiping my tear-streaked cheeks gently.

He's deep, so deep within me. I feel him everywhere.

It's overwhelming.

My face cracks under the strain of togetherness. I can't do it.

My life has turned upside down in one day. Everything now hangs in the balance.

I don't know what to do. I don't know what I should want.

But I love him.

I know that.

I fucking do.

He slows to a halt, his features grimacing with shame and worry as he looks down upon me. Despite my hardest attempts, I break down right there between his arms.

And he's there. He's right there with me, caressing me, reassuring me.

Although he's inside of me, we've stopped moving. He holds me tightly, his arms winding around my body, between me and the mattress. I feel his heart racing against my skin as I reach up, grasping tightly onto the warm flesh of his shoulders.

And he just holds me.

He holds me tighter than I've ever felt him hold me.