The look on his face tore at my heart. It was the look of a terrified child. And for the first time since I’d met Marco, I could picture him like that, imagine how youthful and soft his features must’ve been before time and the responsibilities he carried had tempered him into a man.
“Hey,” I said, smiling soothingly as I reached up to trace the divot in his chin with my thumb as I cupped his cheek. “There you are. You’re okay now. Everything’s going to be okay.”
He went quiet and still. So still as to be almost motionless. He seemed unsure, another behavior I’d not witnessed from him before. Every behavior Marco Varasso had exhibited prior to this had oozed strength, confidence, and even cockiness from time to time. He could be kind, too, and gentle. But I’d never seen him unsettled, and certainly not to such an extreme degree.
This appeared to have flung him right off his foundations.
His gaze zeroed in on the large fireplace on the opposite side of the bedroom, providing me with a possibility to what had caused his attack.
“It’s the fire, isn’t it?” I said. “It makes sense after receiving such bad burns. We can go into another room, if you want.”
Closing his eyes, he gave me one quick nod. I took his hand and led him away from the heat and flames, away from the audible crackling of the logs. I wandered through the cottage until I found a smaller bedroom. Once there, I peeled back the luxurious silken bed linens and climbed onto the queen-sized mattress, patting the space beside me in invitation.
“Come here.”
Marco Varasso was a take charge kind of guy. A man whose presence commanded respect without even trying. Yet when it came to us, he often let me take the lead. I’d initiated the first kisses between us, and then specifically asked for the sexual contact we’d shared. Now, I attempted to guide him again, this time to provide comfort.
All he wore now was his white oxford-style shirt, the tails at the front and back hanging low enough to obscure the most tantalizing parts of him. He kept the shirt on as he did what I asked, sliding in beside me and resting his head against my chest.
“It helps to talk about it, you know,” I encouraged him. “If you ever want to.”
He remained silent for a long time, so I assumed he didn’t want to discuss it. But then, he spoke up.
“It was a house fire,” he told me, his voice a murmur. “It destroyed the home my brothers and I lived in, the one we grew up in. The upper floors caved in and…” he trailed off, but I could guess what happened next.
“Did anyone else get hurt?” I asked, curious but trying not to pry too far. I wanted to know more about him so badly, but I didn’t want to come across as nosy.
“Yeah. Luca got burned on his legs. Second-degree, mostly. His worst injury was a broken shinbone. He still limps a little from it.” He paused. “Also, our housekeeper died. She never escaped from her room on the first floor.”
So many questions skittered across my brain demanding to know more, but I hesitated, afraid of overstepping. Luckily, he spoke up again so I didn’t have to torment myself over what I could ask.
“That’s never happened to me before.”
“The panic attack?”
“Yeah. I’ve had plenty of nightmares, but nothing that sucker punched me in broad daylight.” His tone sounded irritated, as if he was upset at something out of his control. Maybe he was upset because it was out of his control.
“I’ve had panic attacks, too, if it makes you feel better,” I admitted.
“What’s yours about?”
“Just general terror about a lack of money,” I chuckled out, combing my fingers through his hair over and over. I loved the feel of it. “Like, that I’ll lose my job and my parents and me will end up homeless. Like the creditors on my mom’s medical bills will sue us, and we’ll wind up in debtor’s prison or something. I know that’s not really a thing anymore, but that’s what I freak out about. I know that sounds crazy…”
“It’s not crazy. You’re not crazy. Or at least, if you are, then I’m batshit insane.”
“Two peas in a pod, are we?”
He rose up on his elbow, propping his head on his hand, his lips uplifted into a faint smile. “I guess we are.”
He kissed me, slanting his mouth over mine before teasing me with his tongue. I’d never been in this position, in a bed with the weight of a man pressing me lightly into the mattress, and I was anxious to go forward. Marco had already spun me higher than I’d have thought possible prior to meeting him,
and I wanted to fly with him again.
My fingers sought out the buttons of his shirt, working them loose so I could take it off. I wasn’t sure why he’d continued to wear it. Eventually, because of the way he was positioned over me, I couldn’t reach any more, and I stopped kissing him for long enough to try giving him a command.
“Take off your shirt.”
“That’s okay.” He said it not in acquiescence, but more as a refusal. But that was just silly.