Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Nine

"Crazy people."

He laughs, beside my ear. "Sure, crazy people."

Normally, I'd expect him to pull away. Our conversations clearly ended, but he doesn't. And despite the fact that he's hardly touching me, apart from the length of his torso against my back, my breath is gone, and I can hardly move. Without a word, or a graze—only his presence—has made me aware of his proximity, which is clearly what he wants. I know that because the moment I've turned my face to my shoulder, peering at him beneath dense lashes, his lips are caressing my skin gently.

"Giovanni?"

His breath is warm, which is a startling contrast to the autumn wind mixed with the rush coming from the intimidating falls. My skin prickles with awareness, my stomach flipping with unease, and excitement.

His chin perches on my shoulder. "You and I may be world's different than before...but one constant has always been my ability to make you come, anywhere—anytime."

"What?" The word is breathless and when he doesn't answer me right away, when he doesn't calm me down by saying he's kidding or teasing, my entire body feels it. Sharp shots to my nerves that are so damn familiar. I'm hanging on his words, as he wants it.

"Unbutton your jeans," he whispers, without lifting his chin, without touching me and my breath hitches, my eyes darting around us. There are people cuddled on a bench nearby, under a lamp post, and a group talking by a staircase. They're far enough for obliviousness, but I'm too stunned to do as he asks.

"Giovanni..."

"You want proof. I can give it to you. The man I'm with you now is in love, madly. The man I am now can hardly restrain himself from you. Foreplay, dirty words, all of it is too much. I need to be inside of you, as quickly as possible," he says, and even his voice is different—changed. There's a low rumble behind every syllable, every breath, and a slight detachedness that instantly sends me into a dozen memories. And I realize that when he seduced me, when he took me to bed when we first met, his words were hollow, and intelligently designed to arouse me—to make me lust for him.

Not love him.

"This isn't what I meant," I whisper to him, breathless.

"I know it isn't. But, I'm going to show you all the same. Unbutton your jeans, Scarlett."

His dominance is heightened, and full of demand. I turn toward the railing, hearing my own swallow among the crashing water, and my hands leave the railing. My fingers, which are trembling, pull on the buttons in one quick move.

"Don't let anyone see," I utter, as if someone we're directly beside us.

"The thought of someone catching us never bothered you before. In fact, it made you come faster," he says, his voice seductively laced with amusement. "What's changed?"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just said it because it seemed right to.

The moment I've pulled down my zipper, and placed my hands back onto the cold railing, his hands move the inches needed to lay them over mine. His chin rises from my shoulder as he straightens, urging me closer to the railing with his body.

"Lean your elbows onto the railing."

The move urges my ass into his groin, and I gasp audibly at the hardness I'm pressed to. He chuckles, low, his fingers spreading over my forearms on an ascent.

"Just seconds, Scarlett. That's all it takes. You don't even have to touch me, look at me, speak—the mere thought of you can do it for me."

My eyes close tightly when his hands drift from my arms and onto my breasts, where I'm sure he can hear the pounding of my heart. I can imagine what he looks like right now, his hair tumbling over his prolific features, which have hardened in determination. I imagine his mouth just barely parted, his eyes sharp with arousal. When he breathes heavily against my skin as my nipples harden to his fondling, I imagine those eyes closing as he fights to restrain himself, as I've seen him do so many times.