Page 81 of Vicious Behaviors

“You don’t look it. Not right now, at least.”

“That’s because… you’re you. You’re not…” I stop myself before uttering another word, fearing it might trigger the evil inside him to break through.

“But last night… I did scare you, didn’t I?”

I nod in reply, my fingers aching to reach for him. To touch his cheek, run through his hair. His eyes stare at every inch of my face as if pained by my admission.

“Good,” he breathes, starting to pull away, forcing me to catch his hand so he doesn’t move.

“I’m not scared now. I’m not. And I really should be since you broke into my house and all,” I try to joke to light the tension building in the room.

“That just means you have terrible survival instincts.” He gives a faint smile.

My laugh comes out soft and small, but the way his eyes soften in response makes something inside me collapse. As if the remnants of whatever barrier I tried so hard to keep between us have fully crumbled at our feet.

“I don’t like you, and you don’t like me,” he reminds, as if the words cost him to say. “But what if, just for tonight… we’re not us? What if I’m not me, and you’re not you?”

“Are you asking what I would do if we were different people?” I echo, my gaze flicking to his lips, just as my heart leaps to my throat.

“Yes,” he breathes out, the word landing warmly against my skin.

“What would you want me to do?” I ask breathlessly, tossing the landmine question back to him.

He doesn’t answer. Just brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, and I swear I feel it in every corner of my body.

“Everything,” he rasps out, ensuring all logic or rational thought vanishes into thin air.

I dare to get closer to him, my heart beating a mile a minute. When Marcello doesn’t so much as move an inch, I lay my hand on his cheek, his eyelids closing just to revel in this one small touch. I lean in, unwilling to torture myself for another second, close my eyes, and kiss him. Marcello hisses softly at the contact, his arm sliding around my waist, drawing me in.

The kiss is sweet at first, just two broken souls sharing a tender moment to overshadow a life filled with chaos and brutality. However, when I trace the seam of Marcello’s lips with my tongue, asking silently for more, he doesn’t put up much of a fight. His mouth opens for me, his tongue eagerly meeting mine, and suddenly the air between us is charged, dangerous, and alive.

“Marcello,” I whisper against his lips when the kiss becomes overwhelming, my entire body aching for his touch.

He groans, low and raw, lifting himself off the bed to slightly hover over me, so as not to crush me with his weight. I thread my fingers into his hair as he kisses me as if starved for it. For me.I feel him, hard against my stomach, and my toes curl from the heat rising between us.

As I start to lose myself, he pulls back, his face inches from mine, and asks, “What do you want,bella?What do you really want from me?”

My first thought should be that I want to take him down. Get the proof of his wrongdoings and lock him away.

However that thought never comes. Not when he’s looking at me like this—like I’m the only thing anchoring him to the present.

“I want you to finish what you started last night.” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple working double time as his penetrating gaze pins me in place. “But I want you,” I add softly. “Only you. I need you here. With me. Can you do that?”

“I can try,” he says, admitting to his struggle.

Try… It’s the only answer he can honestly give.

I cup his cheek and let him feel the steadiness in my touch. “We’re not us. It’s not Marcello Romano or Isobel Graham tonight. It’s just… you and me. No one else.”

It shouldn’t make sense. But somehow, it does. To us, it makes all the sense in the world. Or maybe I’m just telling myself that because I can’t bear another second without his kiss, without feeling his body pressed against mine, and the escape from reality that his touch offers.

But when he still doesn’t move, hesitating on what he should do, I frown slightly and probe, “Marcello?”

“I…” He shakes his head, struggling. “I’ve… never done this before.”

It takes me a minute for the weight of his vulnerable truth to fully sink in.

“Never?” He shakes his head again.