Footsteps (27 page)

“It makes me afraid. What you feel. What
I
feel.” She bent her head in his hands, looking down.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be afraid.”
Suddenly, the night seemed to be going in a different direction,
one that worried Carlo a little. He should have kept his mouth
shut. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her. But he was with
her, touching her, and that would be enough. If she didn’t send him
away again, that would be enough.

“I don’t know how to know when is right.”
She lifted her head; her eyes sparkled with tears.

“I don’t, either.” He bent down and kissed
her lightly. “Why don’t we just eat? Is that better?”

With a grateful smile, she nodded, and they
went back to her tiny, makeshift kitchen and sorted out their
dinner. They kicked off their shoes and sat together on the sofa to
eat.

While they ate, they chatted about safe
things—Bina told him about the things she’d learned about the town,
and she shared stories about her job and Andi’s unusual ways. They
both had anecdotes about Carmen and Luca, and Carlo came to realize
that she’d grown quite close to the next oldest Pagano siblings.
She asked about Trey, and Carlo told her some good stories. It was
a nice meal.

He didn’t tell her about Trey’s night
terrors or the sudden return of his memories about his mother. He
didn’t tell her how often his noisy little boy got quiet,
especially in the evenings. He didn’t tell her about his own
struggles to get his business back on its legs, to repair his
relationship with Peter, to sell the loft and find a suitable place
to raise his son. They were still at the hotel, and, if not for
Natalie, he thought he and his kid would both be hiding under the
bed by now.

The brotherly raid on the tweakers who’d
robbed Joey had netted only $17,000 of the forty he’d lost. The
shitheads had already spent the rest on paying up with assorted
dealers and then supplies for their little storage-unit soiree.
Under pressure from Luca, and with Joey in a panic at the urgent
care clinic, he’d agreed to fill in what was missing, splitting the
burden with Luca. It had nigh on tapped him out.

The insurance payouts had finally happened a
few days ago, so they’d survived that last-minute panic. He could
get the loft restored, and he and Peter could get the office up and
running. But Peter was thinking about backing out. And Carlo didn’t
know what he’d do then.

All of that he kept from Bina. Tonight, in
this cute little apartment, his life was good. What he wanted was
sitting inches from him, sharing satay and Thai spring rolls and
bottles of iced tea. He felt like his life would turn around if he
could get things right with her. It made no sense. Or maybe it did.
Things had begun to unravel when he’d met her,
because
he’d
met her. Because he’d fallen for her. He didn’t think things would
knit back up without her.

When they had eaten their fill, Bina tidied
up, washing the few dishes in the bathroom sink, the only sink in
the apartment. Carlo packed up the cartons of leftovers and put
them in her refrigerator. When he turned around, she was sitting on
her little sofa, looking over the back at him.

He came around and sat next to her. Sliding
his hand under hers and bringing it to rest on his thigh, he asked,
“What would you like to do now? Would you like to go out?”

As if to answer his question, the night
outside the windows flashed brilliant light, and a few seconds
later a heavy, indolent thunder rolled by. He laughed. “Might need
an umbrella.”

“Carlo.”

He turned from the window and met her eyes.
Her expression was intense, and he wondered if there was cause in
it to be worried.

“I would like…I would…” She stopped and
looked down at their twined hands, and Carlo thought he
understood.

He lifted her chin, his pulse pounding and
his cock, half hard since he’d been here with her, swelling to
solid fullness. “Bina?” More lightning, louder thunder.

“Please.”

He didn’t need more than that. At her plea,
he released the reins on his own need. He pulled her onto his lap,
buried his hands in her rich, dark hair, and kissed her. With one
last wave of restraint, he tried to hold back a little and not
simply devour her, but her hands went into his hair and curled into
fists, clutching him hard. She moaned into his mouth and turned so
that her chest was flush with his. He could feel the hard buds of
her nipples—through her bra, her shirt, his shirt—and his last
defenses were shot. He caught her legs in his arm and rolled,
laying her under him on the sofa, which was too short even for her.
He didn’t care; he simply shifted, going to his knees on the floor
and pulling her farther down on the sofa cushions.

And then he remembered what he had decided
against. He hadn’t wanted to presume. It had felt sordid to
prepare, as if what was going on now had been the obvious
conclusion. He pulled back, his breath coming in strident gasps,
and when she moaned a complaint, he almost couldn’t pull away.

“Wait. Wait, Bina.”

“No! No more waiting. Please. There’s no
more to be between us!”

“There’s one thing. I need to go across the
street. I wasn’t expecting…I didn’t want…” He was searching for
words the way she sometimes did, but he didn’t have the excuse of
English not being his first—his only—language. He stopped, dropped
his head to her chest to regroup. But that didn’t help, his head
pillowed on her beautiful breasts. He looked up. “I don’t have
anything. Protection. I need to go over to the drugstore.”

She blinked for a couple of seconds, not
understanding. “Protection?”

“Condoms.”

“Oh.” Her reaction then surprised him.
Shocked him. Her expression went somber, and she pushed away,
working herself back to sitting and attempting to straighten her
hair and clothes. “You don’t need. There’s no need.”

With a deep breath to reclaim some calm and
follow this new change of direction, he sat back on the sofa, next
to her. “No? Are you on birth control?”

She laughed, and the sound nearly echoed
with sadness. “In a way, yes. I can’t have children.”

“Oh.” Carlo felt hollow at the disclosure.
He’d thought more than once about sharing a child with her. “I’m
sorry. May I ask?”

She lifted her face. Her eyes were hard.
“
He
didn’t want children. He thought pills and condoms were
not sure enough. So he made an appointment, and a doctor tied me.
Um, no. Tied my tubes.”

He didn’t think it would have been possible
to be prepared to hear that. “Jesus, Bina—and you didn’t want
that?”

Rain began to hit the windows and skylights.
“It didn’t matter so much what I wanted. Or didn’t want. It never
did.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why?” Cupping her face in his hands,
he leaned in close. “Bina, never apologize for the things he did to
you.”

“I was a fool.”

“You were young, and then you were trapped.
But now you’re here, and he’s not. Because you survived. Don’t
apologize. Be proud.”

“I don’t think I can be that.” She grazed
the fingers of one hand through his beard, and he closed his eyes
and let himself feel her touch thoroughly. “For right now, I’m
happy that you don’t have to go into the rain.”

“So am I.” He stood and lifted her into his
arms, then carried her to her bed, careful not to knock himself out
on her pitched ceiling.

He stopped at the foot of her bed, where he
could stand upright, and set her down. With her arms wrapped around
his neck, she slid sensuously down his body, and the pressure on
his cock was both too much and not enough. He groaned and began to
unbutton her shirt, needing to be able to touch her at last, after
all this time, skin to skin.

He had touched her, of course, the night
that Auberon had last hurt her, when he’d washed her blood away.
That act had had an intimacy of its own, but there was no point of
comparison between that night and this. That night, in that moment,
he had desired only to help her. To save her.

She did not need saving now.

Following his lead, Bina worked the buttons
on his shirt. With her arms framed by his, her progress down his
shirt was faster, and she was pushing it off his shoulders before
he’d worked open the last of her buttons. She took her top over,
and he discarded his.

When they were both shirtless and she was
standing before him, her beautiful, full breasts wrapped prettily
in a lacy bra, Carlo paused, savoring the moment. She smiled and
put her hands on his chest, running her fingers over his pecs and
then turning one hand over and letting her knuckles trail down his
breastbone, over his abdomen, her light touch making his muscles
twitch. When she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his
jeans, he groaned and finally lifted his hands to her breasts. He
cupped their firm softness and ran his thumbs over the stiff buds
of her nipples, the lace of her bra slightly rough to the
touch.

God.
God
.

She arched toward him with a little gasp,
and then stepped back from him suddenly, her fingers sliding from
his jeans. Concerned again, he dropped his hands.

“Bina?”

She didn’t answer. Carlo watched her eyes,
trying to read the tumult in them, a storm that seemed wilder than
the one that had begun to rage outside. Rain lashed the windows
now, and bursts of lightning and thunder strobed the air.

Taking a deep breath, trying to fill his
words with truth, he said, “We can stop. It’s okay.”

“No.” She reached back and unhooked her bra,
letting it fall from her shoulders to the floor. The sight of her
bare skin, flushed dusky pink with her arousal, her nipples tight
and her chest heaving, was almost too much; he had to lock his legs
to keep himself from charging, pulling her into his arms. Then she
took the steps that returned her to him, and he pulled her into his
arms, after all.

“No one has ever touched me like that.
Gently. I was surprised.”

“You were surprised that I was gentle?”

“No. Maybe yes. It was…intense. Many
feelings. Everywhere.” Her eyes slid away. “I’m like a schoolgirl.
So silly.”

Carlo felt a new weight of responsibility,
something he’d never properly considered. She had been only with
Auberon before now, and he had been a sadist. She had no context
for how sex should feel. He remembered their first kiss, how she’d
seemed inexperienced though she’d been married for so long. There
was something powerfully arousing in the knowledge that she was,
for all intents and purposes, a virgin in the ways of sex—of
consensual sex, mutual pleasure. But it also meant that he needed
to take extra care. His own preference was a little on the wild
side—not kink, really, and not intentionally rough, but fierce.
Generally speaking, he enjoyed a spontaneous fuck against the
refrigerator in the middle of cooking dinner more than rose petals
and candlelight. Though he’d never walked away from rose petals and
candlelight.

But Bina didn’t even know her own
preferences, and she deserved gentle care. He’d known that already,
and he’d been treating her gently. He could rein in the ferocity
that sometimes overtook him mid-romp and focus on her. He would.
But he had some questions, and standing at the foot of her bed,
both of them bare-chested and barefoot, before they went further,
he had to ask.

“Have you ever come?”

He was glad to see that she didn’t look away
this time. “Orgasm? Yes. I come. I…touch myself.” Every muscle in
his gut clenched at the image that simple sentence conjured in his
head. “I think of you.”

He groaned again and held her more tightly,
letting her feel what she was doing to him.

“Did you, with him?”

She stiffened. “Carlo…please, I don’t want
to talk about him now. No more talking. I can feel your heat on me.
I want to think of you only.” She took a step back and opened her
pants, shimmying out of them and her underwear at the same time. He
caught a glimpse of white lace sliding down her legs. And then she
was naked before him, all golden skin and tight curves. At the
juncture of her thighs was a black, trimmed triangle. He wanted to
feel his hand slide over that dark patch.

She unclasped the clip in her hair and
dropped it onto her little pile of pants, then shook her hair
loose. Her fingers slid into his jeans, and she opened his belt,
and then the buttons of his fly, pushing her hands around, inside
his jeans, under his boxer briefs, and gripped his hips.

And with that, Carlo’s good intentions, his
desire to go slow and gentle and ease her into this experience,
simply exploded into shards of animal need. Trey’s birthday was
just less than a week away. Marking a year since Jenny left. They’d
stopped having sex three months before that. Fifteen months since
he’d last had sex. Fifteen months. And here he was with Bina, this
beautiful, fantastic woman whom he loved, her naked body against
him.

He took her by the hips and lifted her up,
intending at first to bring her face to his so that he could kiss
her. But she wrapped herself around him, her legs encircling his
hips, her arms around his neck, and she kissed him, her tongue
plunging deeply into his mouth. He took over the kiss, building the
intensity, clutching her close, trying to keep one toehold on
sanity and not just drop her on the bed and fuck her.