Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

S he had obviously been expecting someone else and Giovanni tried not to let that bother him, but a spike of jealousy shot through him at the possibility that she might be waiting for a guy. "You alone?"

"Um…"

She stepped aside as he let himself in. The home was dark and sounded empty. He'd never been in her house before. "Italian Mary sent this over. It's still warm in case you haven't eaten."

She accepted the tray and blinked up at him. "What is it?"

"Manicotti." He took off his coat and folded it over his arm, waiting for her to officially invite him inside or offer to hang it up. "Did you eat?"

"What?"

"Dinner. Have you eaten anything today?"

Her head shook. "I had some cookies."

He spotted her coat hanging from a hook and draped his on top. "You need more than cookies. Show me the kitchen."

Assuming it had to be one of the doorways on the other side of the den, he started walking. Erin followed and watched him with a confused look on her face.

He peeled back the foil and breathed in the scent of his Nona's sauce. "You've never tasted manicotti like this." He opened a cabinet, finding canned goods, then tried another and kept searching until he found the plates. "Take a seat."

Grabbing a spatula from the canister on the counter, he dished out two servings and joined her at the table. She stared at the plate. A large basket of baked goods hogged the surface and he grabbed the handle to move it out of the way.

"Leave it." She caught the base with two hands and he paused.

"I was just gonna move it to the counter so I could look at you."

She reluctantly let go and watched him like a hawk as he carefully moved it. It was surprisingly heavy.

Mental note, she really liked baked goods.

A pen and notepad sat on the table beside a handmade card. " The Buchanans ," he read. "That was nice of them. Did Skylar bake all that?" His little cousin took after his Aunt Maureen in the kitchen.

"She stopped by a little bit ago."

He slid her a fork. "Who else came by?"

She stared at him. "Finn."

He paused from slicing through the manicotti, wondering if he was out of line for thinking… He was, and therefore shoved the thought away. Finn was ridiculously in love with Mallory. He probably just checked on Erin because that was the sort of guy he was.

"Eat."

She poked at the crepe-like pasta shell as if not trusting it. "What's in it?"

"Ricotta cheese. Haven't you ever had manicotti before?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, you're gonna love it." He watched her, the anticipation of her smile already making him grin.

She sliced off a bite and brought it to her mouth. Her pretty lips closed around the fork and she chewed slowly, her eyes moving as she analyzed the flavor.

"Wow."

"Delicious, right?"

She cut off another—bigger—bite and he smiled, pleased she liked it.

He wasn't sure about stopping by unannounced, especially after the way she talked to him at the cemetery, but the more he thought about it, the more he believed she didn't want to make too much out of their little get together the other night.

The moment he left the motel to get his car, he regretted the way they ended things. But when he got back, she was already gone. He thought of going to her house, but then he learned the news about her dad passing and he didn't want to intrude.

"The funeral was nice," he said, and she stilled.

Maybe that was a dumb thing to say. Christ, she just buried her only parent. There was nothing nice about that.

"Sorry. I never know what to say in situations like this."

Setting down her fork with a gentle click, her fingers noticeably trembled. "It was nice. I'm glad we had it."

"Harrison looks like he's doing well for himself."

Her expression hardened. "We had a fight. He left."

"Oh. You okay?"

She nodded. "Family stuff."

"I can't imagine how overwhelming this must be for you."

Her eyes lifted, a look of awe taking over her face. "That's exactly what it is. I've been sitting here for days trying to figure out how I feel and I couldn't think of the right word. I'm overwhelmed."

"Well, that's normal." He captured her hand and squeezed it gently.

Frowning at his touch, she looked back at him. "Why are you here?"

He didn't let go. "I was thinking about you."

"What were you thinking?"

He'd been wondering if she was as okay as she claimed. He worried she might be sad or crying, alone in this house with no one to take her mind off things. He'd been thinking how shitty he felt about the way things ended. "That I missed you."

She pulled her hand out of his and tucked it on her lap, drawing some conclusion at his statement.

Carrying her plate to the sink, she covered the leftovers with foil. She looked at him expectantly, but he didn't have a clue what she expected of him.

"Do you want to come to my room?"

He frowned, confused. "Sure?"

Leaving his plate next to hers, she led him down a narrow hall. Her bedroom was at the end. Simple furniture with very little clutter. A house plant hung in the corner with green leaves in a long vine that wound across the curtain rod and reached the mirror above her dresser.

"Is that plant real?"

She shut the door. "Yes. I've had it since high school."

Feeling closed in, he moved to the far corner of the wall and looked at the picture in the frame. "Where's this?"

"I don't know. I cut it out of a magazine."

The photograph was of a desert cliff. He set it back on her dresser and turned. She stared at him, still in her funeral clothes, looking small and fragile.

"I feel like I missed something," he confessed.

"Don't you want…" She glanced at the bed. "I thought you said…"

"I said I missed you. I didn't come over here for sex." He also didn't expect sex to be offered. Now that it was, though… His neck heated and he worried he'd somehow messed this up. "What if we watched a movie or something?"

"Okay." She sat on the double bed and pointed a remote at the television mounted to the wall. A menu of streaming channels appeared. "What do you want to watch?"

He walked to the bed, toed off his shoes and sat beside her. "Something funny."

They settled on the movie Step Brothers with Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly. Erin never saw it before and he found that strange, being that the movie was more than a decade old.

"I never miss anything Will Ferrell's in. Even Bewitched , which was a total flop, but I still watch it on occasion. The man is a comedic genius."

He scooted closer to her, stealing a subtle whiff of her hair and loving the soft scent of her skin. The movie started, jumping quickly into a sex scene with Mary Steenburgen and Richard Jenkins.

He glanced at Erin to see if she was amused with the opening, but she only lifted her brows. He'd never met a woman so guarded. It was a challenge to make her laugh or even crack a smile.

It took five minutes for the mounting pressure of the plot to penetrate her icy stare and she finally broke when Jenkins told Reilly to " shut the fuck up ."

Erin's laughter was like a soft rain after a long drought, and he drank it in. Her smile lit up the entire room.

"You have a great laugh."

Her mouth snapped shut and she self-consciously pressed a finger to her lips.

"Pretty smile, too." He pulled her hand away.

The shyest grin lingered on her full lips, tempting and far too beautiful. He loved this movie, but over the next two hours, he found himself mostly watching her.

The sex scenes were silly, but they made him extremely aware of his desire for the woman at his side. His gaze chased down the black stockings covering her legs, and he found himself mesmerized by her tiny feet.

Her dress was plain, sleeveless and black, with a little ruffle at the hem. She looked as classy as Jackie Onassis at the cemetery today. Stoic. Strong.

His hand reached for hers, his fingers feathering over her palm and entwining until their palms closed together. She looked down at his hand holding hers but didn't pull away.

He smiled, turning his attention back to the movie.

Little by little, Erin leaned into him until she was cuddled snug against his side. She didn't make it to the credits. Her soft breathing and loose limbs alerting him that she'd fallen asleep. She was probably exhausted after the week she had.

When the movie ended, he quietly shut off the television and lowered her to the pillows. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Get some sleep."

She moaned softly and snuggled into her blankets. "Stay."

He debated her request. His body pulsed with wanting, but that wasn't the sort of company she needed right now. Yet, part of him really wanted to spend the night with her, even if all he ever did was hold her. Her invitation filled him with warm satisfaction, somehow penetrating deeper than any sort of sexual desire.

It was an easy yes.

He removed his sweater and draped it over the chair in the corner. Looking back at her, still in her dress and stockings, he went to the bed and gently pulled her up.

"Let me help you out of this." She leaned into him as he slowly unzipped the back of her dress.

The bodice draped loosely from her shoulders and he pulled it away. Her eyes were hardly open as she watched him through her lashes, lifting her hips as he stripped off the garment.

Leaving her on the bed, in just her bra and stockings, he found a hanger and hung the dress in the closet. He returned to the bed and considered her stockings. He didn't wear stockings, so he had no experience getting them off.

When he pulled the material away from her hip, it snapped back and he laughed nervously. "Sorry. Slippery things."

She lifted her hips again and he peeled them away, revealing a simple pair of black satin bikini briefs to match her black bra. He set the stockings on the chair and removed his pants and socks, stripping down to his underwear.

Sliding open a dresser drawer, he found a T-shirt and brought it to the bed.

"What about this?" she asked, glancing at her bra.

Swallowing, he glanced at the T-shirt. He honestly couldn't navigate her signals and wasn't sure how far this would go. He didn't want to take advantage, but he also didn't want to upset her with good-intentioned rejection. But all nobility aside, he really didn't want to miss an opportunity to be with her again.

"What do you want, Erin?"

She lifted a narrow shoulder and looked up at him with such innocence in her eyes. He unfolded the T-shirt.

The other night had been one of the best. He'd thought of little else since. But considering her emotional state, he wasn't sure if intimacy would comfort her or leave her with regrets in the morning.

She reached behind her back and unclasped the small hooks, the lace cups loosening over her chest. He swallowed, deciding he'd never been much of a saint.

"Erin?" He held the shirt out to her, but she didn't take it.

She shook her head and he cursed. He really didn't want to mess this up.

His body swelled as he stepped closer. He lowered to the edge of the bed and caught her hand, stilling her from removing any more clothes. "I didn't come here because I expected this. I'm completely fine with nothing happening."

She held his stare and brought his hand to her chest. He slowly pulled the lace bra away, and her nipples hardened. God, she was beautiful.

She lifted the covers, inviting him into her bed. He shut off the light and slid beside her.

Their breathing was the only sound as he rested on his back, his arm subtly pressed to hers. He had no intention of pushing her after the day she'd had, but she was pushing the hell out of him. One more temptation and he would snap.

When she pressed a kiss to his shoulder, his body turned to steel. And when she moved over him, dragging her breasts against his chest and straddling his hips, he didn't object.

Maybe she needed an outlet and that's all this was. He could be that for her, but he still wished he could see her. The room was pitch black, her phantom touch driving him mad and turning him on, but he missed looking into her eyes. He liked reading her responses.

The heat of her arousal teased his stomach, he couldn't help but reach for her. One hand on her hip, he gently traced a finger to her sex, teasing and touching her exactly as she liked.

She moaned softly and he deepened his touch. She rode his hand, taking what she needed.

Leaning forward, she teased him with the tip of her breast until he caught it between his lips and licked the hard bud. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her. He could suffocate in her tits and die a happy man.

She scooted lower, and her hot sex glided over his shaft. He kissed her hard, stealing his tongue into her mouth and letting his passion go.

She angled her body, opening herself up and his cock delved into her wet heat.

"Wait." He broke the kiss, his mind a labyrinth of filthy images and dark desires. "Condom."

"It's okay," she whispered, biting his lips and teasing away the sting with her tongue. "I mean, I'm okay if you're okay. I'm on the pill."

No condom? His dad had ingrained certain commandments in his head since he was a boy. Never talk back to his mother. Remember to shut the garage. Be respectful to his elders and anyone associated with the church. And never— ever— send your man into battle without proper protection.

But damn, her body felt incredible against his with nothing separating them.

She moved again, his cock nudging deeper. He should stop. He had something in his wallet and his pants were just a few feet away, but she was already there. He was practically inside of her.

"Erin…"

She altered her hips and sank over him, taking him inside her to the hilt. His eyes rolled back as he let out a sigh and cursed at the pleasure.

He cupped her hips and pulled her tight against him, thrusting into her, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go. "God, you feel incredible."

She lifted her body, riding him with steady, rocking glides of her hips. He didn't even have to move. She did it all and everything she did felt amazing. Too good.

It wasn't long before his body tensed with its building release. He couldn't finish without first taking care of her.

He reached for her sex, his thumb seeking out that sensitive little bud, but she caught his hand and pulled it away. She rode him faster and he couldn't get his fingers where he wanted them to be, so he cupped her breasts, teasing and fondling, only she twisted and somehow pushed his hands back to her hips.

Why wouldn't she let him touch her? He wanted to make her feel as good as she was making him feel.

Not giving her a chance to brush him away again, he rolled to his side, knocking her off, as he dove for her sex, not stopping until his mouth tasted their mixed flavor. She let out a startled yelp, but he pressed her thighs wide and delved his tongue between her folds.

"Wait!" she yelled, but he shook his head, set on making her come. "Giovanni…"

He groaned against her tender flesh, licking and tasting every secret inch of her. Her moans contradicted her struggle and her touch volleyed between holding him to her and trying to push him away. She obviously liked it, so why would she fight it?

She was such an ongoing contradiction and he wanted to figure her out. Right after he drank her pleasure to the last drop.

Her body shuddered and she cried out, sweet honey drenching his lips as he kissed her some more. He never enjoyed doing this to a woman as much as he enjoyed doing it to Erin. There was something about her, more than her sharp taste or her sweet scent. It was Erin. Hard, prickly, severe, waspish Erin. But here, in this little slice of heaven between her legs, she was all soft, delicate femininity.

Her fingers combed through his hair, pulling and fisting, but he didn't back off. His fingers pressed and teased where his mouth couldn't reach. He suckled and kissed, loving the feel of her arousal on his lips and the sound of her pleasure in his ears.

Her legs locked around him as she arched against the bed and moaned, more uninhibited than he'd ever heard her before. The more she gave of herself the more he wanted of her.

Greedily, he fed his fingers into her and sucked her swollen bud. His body thrust against the mattress, wanting back inside of her but he wasn't finished yet. He needed to wring one more release from her.

"One more, baby. Give me one more."

She twisted away from him, and he fumbled backward. Her foot pressed to his chest, shoving him away.

He scowled at the way she practically kicked him off of her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not your baby."

God, she could be such a bitch about the dumbest things. Fine. She didn't like being called baby. He caught her ankle and dragged her back to him. "I wasn't finished."

"I want to have sex."

He did too, but he was having fun and was in no rush to reach the end. "We will. Come here." He pressed a kiss to her stomach and she yanked a hunk of his hair hard. "Ouch! What the hell, Erin?"

He scowled into the dark, rubbing his head where she jerked his hair.

"Forget it. I'm done."

"What? Wait a minute."

She scooted off the bed and he fumbled to find the lamp. The light kicked on and she stood at the dresser, naked and stunning.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. We were having fun a second ago and suddenly you're kicking and scratching me like a cat being dunked into a bucket of water. What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm just over it." She snatched the T-shirt off the floor, tugging it over her body.

"Well, I'm not."

"Tough shit."

"Do me a favor, Erin, don't be a bitch to me while I can still taste your orgasm on my lips."

She spun, hurling the picture of the desert at him, but he ducked and the frame smashed into the wall. "Get out!"

He sprung to his feet, suddenly under attack. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Just leave me alone! I just want to be left the fuck alone!"

Unsure what else to do, he grabbed her with both arms and hugged her tight, preventing her from throwing anything else.

"Let go of me!" She tried to shove him off, but he only held tighter.

"Stop," he commanded, keeping his voice level, unsure what brought this on, but pretty certain it had very little to do with him. "Just stop. Take a breath."

Every breath in and out of her lungs shook her body. She fought his hold, but he refused to let go. Maybe it was the stress of losing her dad or maybe she was scared about all the stuff she had to now handle. She'd mentioned fighting with Harrison earlier. Maybe her brother said something mean to her.

"You can talk to me," he whispered, but that only made her angrier.

She bit him when he wouldn't let go.

"Fuck!" He changed tactics and shoved her to the bed, forcing her to her stomach and pinning her arms at her side. "Do not bite me."

She stilled. A lone tear trailing down her nose.

Softening his voice, he said, "I'd never hurt you, Erin, so please don't hurt me."

Her eyes closed and she sucked in a breath, a shuddered sob escaping her. He eased his weight off of her and she curled into a ball. He pulled her onto his lap, she stiffened but quickly gave up and wrapped her arms and legs around him, letting out a wail she seemed to have been holding inside for far too long.

"I've got you." He rubbed a hand down her back. "Let it out."

She sobbed into his throat with gutting force. He'd never heard such a heartbreaking cry. It was enough to trigger tears of his own, but he blinked them back, trying to be strong for her.

"It's okay," he whispered, stroking a hand over her hair. "I've got you." It was the only comforting thing he could think to say.

Her tears soaked his skin as she pleaded in half-spoken thoughts. "Just…hold me. Please don't…don't let go."

"I won't," he promised, unsure if he was outside of his jurisdiction.

This was not the ball busting girl he'd grown up with. This was someone deeply tortured by things he couldn't see.

He was out of his depth and unsure how to help someone so closed off to others.

It took nearly an hour to calm her down, and even then she occasionally let out a shiver and gasp, little aftershocks from such a hard cry. She stared up at him, her lashes spiked and damp and her face blotched with hives.

Her makeup had washed away. The bruise on her cheek was still there, but it was faded and mostly yellow now.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she whispered as he stroked a piece of hair behind her ear. That was the second time she'd asked him that. Did she honestly think he was that much of an asshole?

"I like you."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Do we ever really know why we like certain things?"

"But I'm mean to you."

He laughed. "Not always."

"When have I ever been nice to you?"

"You're being nice now. I like when you're soft like this. It's when you're at your prettiest." He kissed the tip of her red nose.

Her bloodshot eyes looked away. "I'm fucked up."

"Erin, we're all a little fucked up. Whatever this is, I'm sure it's not a make or break you thing. You're strong and you've been through a lot this week."

"You have no idea."

His eyes met hers and he stilled at the openness staring back at him.

She looked away, her brow pinching into thin lines as she toyed with the gold crucifix hanging from his neck. "Did you ever want to say something, but when you try, your words don't make a sound?"

"Sure."

"That's how I've felt most of my life." She pressed the crucifix to his chest and stopped fidgeting. "I know what everyone thinks of me. I know how mean I've been. The way they think of me… It's my fault. I chose to be a bitch."

"People can change." And how well did they really know her? The woman he saw tonight was not the woman he always suspected she was.

She looked up at him. "Do you actually believe that? Do you honestly think people can change at our age?"

"Yes, I do. But I also think it's a lot easier for us to change than it is to change other people's opinions of us."

Her head sank against the pillows. "They'll never see me differently."

"How do you know? Show people a different side and they might surprise you."

"I can't. I hate feeling vulnerable around others."

He was starting to figure that out. No vulnerability. No intimacy. "Why?"

The silence stretched and he wondered if she was trying to tell him but her words refused to make a sound. He scoured his mind for possible reasons a girl might be so intimidated by intimacy.

"Did someone force you to do something you didn't want to do?"

She shook her head.

"But someone hurt you."

She nodded.

"Someone close to you?"

She nodded again and a tear trailed down her face.

"Your brother?"

She didn't shake her head or nod. He'd watched Harrison that afternoon, noting the way he stood by his sister's side and held her arm for support. Siblings argued. Sometimes words hurt, but he didn't believe Harrison would ever purposefully harm his sister.

"Maybe Harrison disappointed you, but he's not the one who hurt you, is he?"

She looked up at him and shook her head.

That left one other person. "Your dad?"

Her lips trembled and she sucked in a sharp breath that shook like another aftershock of a sob.

Her dad hurt her? He pictured Ward and tried to imagine him angry. He couldn't envision it. The guy always kept to himself and he had the best crumb cake around. Erin's crumb cake.

He looked at her cheek, really looked at it. "How did you get the bruise on your face, Erin?"

She shut her eyes and he knew at that moment it hadn't been from the car accident.

He pulled her closer, hugging her to his chest and kissing the top of her head. "Try to get some sleep."

She just trusted him with a huge piece of personal information and he wanted to know more, but it was not the time to pressure her. His first instinct was to protect her, but from what? A ghost?

Maybe she and her father had a fight and she never got the chance to resolve things with him before he died. Or maybe she was still angry and couldn't forgive him for his actions. Or maybe, this wasn't the first time, but the last time, and such a realization had shaken her to the core.

Big secrets took a lot of energy to keep. If she'd been hiding this secret for a while, she was probably exhausted and confused about where to finally lay down all the pieces.