Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(57)
Gian’s fingers pressed tighter to her cunt, not quite grabbing it as she fucked him, but firm enough for her to feel it. She grinded her clit into his palm at the same time. “All mine, Cara.”
“Yours.”
Of course, it was.
He hadn’t realized how unhurriedly such a thing could build inside him—such a vindictive, needy, greedy, beautiful thing like love. He’d never been in love before, and when he finally understood that he had been slowly falling in love with Cara, he’d been too stupid and too selfish to stop it. He liked the way it felt, after all, even when it hurt.
So yes, all of her belonged to him.
And he wanted her to know it.
Cara dug through the bag of fast food, pulling out a cheeseburger and fries, and setting her bare feet up on the dashboard. After cleaning up, she’d opted to kick her flats off on the floor of the car.
“Busy couple of weeks?” Gian asked.
She handed him over the bag. “Nothing unusual. Mostly boring.”
“That could be considered a good thing.”
“It could.”
“But?” he pressed.
Cara smiled a bit. “But I missed you, too, so that kind of sucked.”
Gian didn’t even bother to hide his grin. “Eat, love.”
She did, pulling out fries to chew on. Once they were gone, she said, “My mom killed herself, or that’s what my brother said.”
“Oh.”
That felt stupid to say.
Gian didn’t know what would be appropriate. An apology felt wrong, considering Cara’s feelings regarding her mother. She didn’t look entirely sad about it, but she didn’t appear to be happy, either.
“Are you going back for the funeral?” he asked.
Cara shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Her death is enough closure for me,” Cara admitted under her breath. “I don’t need to watch her be buried, too.”
“You could have called me.”
Gian heard the slight bitterness in his tone, though he wished he could have hidden it better. He didn’t want to be angry with Cara for asking that he give her space and time alone. It also wasn’t that easy. The longer it had stretched on between them with no word from her, the harder it had become for him to deal with it.
“There was nothing to say,” Cara said dryly. “Not about Serena Rossi, anyhow.”
“You could have called for—”
Cara glanced over at him, her knowing eyes quieting him instantly. “I wanted to call. Every day. Multiple times a day. Every chance I got. Whenever I looked at my phone. It didn’t get easier not to pick it up, but neither did watching the news, seeing shootings and hearing all the problems piling up all over the city. I had choices to make, Gian.”
“Like what?”
“Like if I wanted to keep doing this with you. Whether or not I was okay with what that might mean.”
He cleared his throat. “And?”
Cara unwrapped her burger. “I’m here, aren’t I? I called, didn’t I?”
She was.
And she had.
“The only thing that would make this food better is beer,” Cara said.
“I could have brought some or picked up a six-pack.” Gian set his burger and fries up in his lap. “We couldn’t have come out here, though.”
Cara shrugged one shoulder. “We’ll grab some on the way back to my place.”
“Is that the plan?”
“Yep. That’s the plan.”
“So, we’re going to act like everything is good and you didn’t run off scared?” he asked.
“We will if you stop bringing it up.”
“We are going to talk about it, mon ange. And other things, too.”
She sighed, rolling her pretty blue eyes upward at the same time. “Fine, but we’re eating first. Maybe fucking again, too.”
“I do love the way you think, Cara.”
Her smile was sinful. “I know you do.”
“And you.”
Cara glanced over at him, her eyes knowing and the silence stretching on. Now or never, he thought to himself. If he could feel it, he should be able to verbalize it. How else was she going to know the craziness he constantly felt whenever she was near?
“I love you,” he added, quieter.
“I thought we were eating first before all of that.”
They would.
Gian nodded at her food. “Eat, but it changes nothing. I said what I said.”
She wasn’t running this time.
“What do you want, red or white?” Gian asked, holding up two bottles of wine for Cara to choose between.
“I thought we were grabbing beer?”
“We are, but you like wine more. Which one?”
Cara eyed the two bottles and said, “Which one do you think I’d prefer?”
“The red for tonight. White for a meal.”
“Lucky guess.”
“Or I pay attention,” Gian replied just as fast, slipping the bottle of white wine back on the shelf. “Red wine is good for rich dishes, too, you know.”
Cara crossed her arms as she rounded the corner of the aisle, plucking the red wine from Gian’s outstretched grasp. “How can you say you love someone when the only thing you’ve ever done with them is fuck?”