“I, um . . .” My hand flattened over his heart, finding it pounding. “What do you really want?” Please say me.
“The things I want are impossible.”
“What else is impossible?” I was reaching, and I knew that—hoping this man would open up to me like he could with Natalia.
“What I want is for my sister not to be dead,” he said in a broken voice, and at that, he let go of me and backed away, and I felt so utterly cold and alone without his proximity. “And that’ll never happen.” His eyes journeyed over the length of my body before he added, “Just like you and I will never be together.”
I processed his pain. Took it in. Absorbed some of it. And then admitted, “She was the best of us all.” I closed my eyes, feeling the prick of unexpected tears, such a sharp contrast to the heat still burning between my legs.
I gasped when my back went to the wall again, and I tore my eyes open to find him slamming a hand over my shoulder. “Why are you doing this to me? Why the hell are you making me feel . . .”
“Feel what?” I exhaled.
He lowered his chin, eyes moving down and to the side as if lost in thought. “You shouldn’t be in here with me.”
“I don’t see you backing away,” I challenged.
“I can’t seem to un-fucking-glue myself from you since you showed up last night,” he rasped, eyes returning to my face. “But I won’t give you what you think you want, because it’d break you, I promise.”
“But?” I hoped there was more coming.
“The birthday kiss. I’ll give that to you. I don’t want some asshole putting his mouth on you tonight.”
“Oh, I . . .”
“Save your virginity for someone you love. Don’t just give it to anyone.” There he was, that sweet, nice guy who gave a damn. He was trying to hide him. Conceal him under this facade he’d created. But even now he couldn’t help but be him. That made me want to cry for some reason. “You deserve better than what I can give you.”
I wasn’t sure why he felt that way, but I also wouldn’t refuse what he was willing to offer when I so desperately wanted to feel his mouth on mine. “Kiss me, then,” I pleaded, reaching for the lapel of his jacket.
He stared deep into my eyes, still unmoving, but when I arched into him to feel his cock, his restraint snapped. Hands darting up to cup my cheeks, he gently caressed my face as he slanted his mouth over mine.
His tongue skimmed the line of my lips, seeking entrance, and I gave it to him.
I moaned, struggling to comprehend how this felt like more than just a hot birthday kiss . . . this was borderline life-altering.
His kiss turned more ravenous, and his hands slid into my hair, holding my head tight as his tongue stroked mine. He kept me pinned to the wall with his entire body, and I melted into him, gripping his forearms. An all-consuming kiss. It was almost as if I could absorb his pain and his passion within the space of those few brief seconds.
I was pretty sure he was equally stunned by whatever was happening between us, because the next thing I knew, he was breaking the kiss. Resting his forehead on mine, he inhaled a shaky breath and took a second to compose himself.
And now, part of me wished he’d never given me that moment . . . because how in the world would I ever find someone to top that kiss? How would I move on from that?
He didn’t have to take my virginity to steal my heart.
He backed up and tapped his fist against his lips, lightly panting as he stared at me, appearing distraught. “Maria,” he began, a look of devastation on his face, “you have to promise me something.”
I gasped when he abruptly pulled me back to him, holding me tight to his frame with his hand at my back. “What?”
He brought his mouth to my ear, and my skin became hot and tingly. “Please, for the love of God,” he gruffly began, “never offer yourself to me again.”
ONE
Maria
Present Day—Charlotte, North Carolina
“How does it feel to be twenty-nine and a single mom?”
“Jeez, Ma. You could’ve at least opened up by wishing me a happy birthday first.” I turned to locate my favorite bartender, Christian, needing a drink to get through this conversation.
My sister and her husband, Ryan Rossi, threw me this surprise birthday party at her restaurant, Talia’s Tuscan Grill. Almost two years ago, my sister’s hard work paid off—she opened her own restaurant, and I was so damn proud of her.
There was no place I’d rather spend my birthday. Of course, the place was crowded with a bunch of people I either didn’t know or wouldn’t trust with a single secret of mine. But if a big, flashy party made my sister happy, I’d smile and make small talk with everyone.