The Lovely Reckless(68)

It looks like a page out of a trendy magazine. “No, you don’t.”

He takes my hand and leads me to the end of the bed. We sit on the edge and he smiles sheepishly, planting a quick kiss on my lips. “Okay. I don’t. It doesn’t feel like you in here.”

“I know.” Mom decorated every inch, and except for a few framed photos, there’s nothing personal in this room.

“Sofia would love it.”

I try to imagine how it looks from his point of view.

“What’s going on in your head?” Marco asks.

“My bedroom—this house—it must make me look like a spoiled rich girl from the Heights. But I’m not that girl anymore.”

“I know who you are, Frankie.” He reaches out and traces a line down the center of my lips, and my breath catches. “You’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you. And you’re even more beautiful on the inside.”

I touch his chest and feel his heart pounding. He’s the beautiful one. I tug on his T-shirt, needing him closer. “Come here.”

He watches me from beneath long lashes, drinking me in. I clutch his shirt tighter and press my forehead against his. Marco’s response is immediate—his fingers slip under the hem of my T-shirt and press against my sides.

“I’m scared.” Finally, I say something true.

“Me too,” he whispers. “Whenever you’re one minute late, I think you aren’t going to show. That you finally figured out I’m not good enough for you. I used to be different. Maybe if you’d met me back then … before my mom died and my dad got locked up. But after the accident, things changed, and I can’t go back.”

Every word feels like it could have come from my lips. I’m not the same person I was before Noah died. If anyone understands how one experience can change your entire life, it’s me. “I used to be different, too. Noah’s death changed me. I’m broken, Marco.” A knot forms in my throat, and I can’t choke it down. “And there’s no way to fix me.”

His lips graze mine, and he pauses to suck my lower lip. The ice inside me melts, and a sigh escapes my lips. “I don’t want to fix you, Angel. I just want you.”

He kisses me again. Suddenly, anything seems possible. I feel it every time we’re together now—possibility.

When we come up for air and he grabs the waistband of my jeans to tug me closer, every part of me is on fire. I never imagined feeling the way I do right now—like nothing matters more than the boy in my arms. Like no one has ever understood me the way he does.

Marco runs his hand across my stomach and presses his fingers against my back, urging me closer. I drag my fingers over his side, feeling goose bumps spring up beneath my touch. Our legs twist together and Marco rolls onto his back, taking me with him. I feel waves of heat, and a tingling sensation that starts in my belly travels down to my toes, dragging me to the edge and then releasing me again just before I break.

“Marco.” The need in my voice when I say his name creates an unbearable tension.

“Frankie…” My name sounds like a moan, and I feel how much he wants me as I press against him.

“Maybe we should slow down. I—” What? Want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, and it scares the crap out of me? And I’m feeling things I’ve never felt—sensations I never realized my body could feel—and I’m terrified to lose control?

I can’t tell him the truth.

Marco freezes, his fingers touching the silky strip of fabric underneath the zipper of my jeans. His chest heaves against mine, and without his hands and lips to distract me, I realize how fast my heart is beating. He has probably slept with dozens of girls. Maybe more. He’s not the kind of guy who takes things slow.

He slides his hand up to the curve of my waist, just above the waistband of my jeans, and pulls back so he can look at me. His dark eyes lock with mine. “Have you ever done this before?”

I know what he’s asking, but I don’t want to answer. I bite my lip and turn my head away.

“Don’t do that, Frankie. Look at me.” His voice is low and raw from kissing me. It’s crazy how much I love the way Marco says my name. He moves his hand away from my waist and brings it up to my face, tracing a path along my jawline. He turns my face toward him gently. “Look at me.”

I force myself to meet his gaze. Marco’s brows pull together, worry branded on his beautiful features.

Please don’t ask. Just kiss me.

I repeat the words over and over in my head, hoping I’ll develop telepathic abilities in the next ten seconds.

He takes a breath, and I know the question is coming. “Are you a virgin?”

I bite my lip and cover my face with my hands. I nod—the tiniest movement imaginable. I want to evaporate into the air.

“Shit.” He eases off me and pulls me up against his chest, and his cheek brushes mine as he brings his lips to my ear. “Don’t hide from me. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m the jerk.” He rests his forehead on my shoulder. “We can take things as slow as you want. I’ll never ask you to do anything you aren’t ready for. Just don’t go anywhere, okay?”

I uncover my face and slide my arms around Marco’s neck.

He notices the time illuminated on my alarm clock. “Lex will be here in a few minutes to pick you up.”