Sweet Hope (Sweet Home 3)

“I’ve missed you, Elpi…” she whispered sleepily.

I squeezed her closer to my side, wishing I could tell her I’d missed her too. Instead, I curtly ordered, “You’re staying here tonight.”

Aliyana nuzzled into my chest and I felt the muscles in her cheeks pull into a smile. “From the first time I ever saw your angel sculpture, it seared my heart… I always knew if I could meet you in the flesh, your soul would do the same.”

The words she spoke might as well have been a fucking Hail Mary from God himself, a free pass for the fucked-up sins of my past. But that could never be true. I had to pay the piper. I’d ruined lives. Karma didn’t work this way, giving you everything you could dream of without paying some kind of price.

I pressed my cheek on the top of her head and closed my eyes.

It was the first time I’d slept right through the night without waking up to cold sweats and an unbearable anger killing me inside.

Chapter Eleven

Ally

As I woke to the bright sun filtering through the large windows of the studio, the rays lighting up his muscled naked body, it felt like I was caught in a dream.

Elpidio’s strong arms were still holding me close; he’d never let go all night. I treasured the touch of this closed off, tortured man, but felt a deep pit swell in my stomach.

What was he hiding about himself that was so terrible?

What was haunting his genius mind, pushing anyone away from getting too close? Warning me to stay away?

Lifting my fingers, I traced them gently over his rugged face, focusing my attention on the black crucifix which dominated his left cheek. The lines looked like he’d done it himself, the center of the cross seeming to cover something underneath.

Eyes following fingers, I ran them down his short, soft beard to his neck, tattoos covering every inch of skin. Unfamiliar symbols, images of Italy and cryptic words featured in most of the designs. These designs led to similar works on his chest, the centerpiece an intricate rosary falling to his sternum.

It was beautiful.

But on closer inspection, my eyebrows furrowed as I studied a number of slash scars and what looked like stab wounds on his abs and stomach.

They all looked bad, but none as painful-looking as the one on the back of his neck.

How the hell did he get them all?

I thought back to the numerous questions about his past which had gone unanswered: the tragic background to his sculptures, the tightly pristine made bed when I walked into the studio last night, the scars, and the fact he hadn’t been with a woman in years.

As I cast my eyes over his current sculpture, the boy with a gun, crying blood and bullet tears, one thought came to mind: Was he military? Was that why he was so closed off? So jaded by people… by life?

A loud beep sounded from across the room, the shrill noise waking Elpi, his dark sleepy eyes blinking open. I held my breath as he looked down. His eyebrows knitted together as if he was confused by seeing me sprawled across his chest. But when a hint of a smile hooked on the corner of his top lip, I felt a swarm of butterflies invade my stomach.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“Alright,” he whispered back in his sexy deep drawl. Leaning his mouth down to meet mine, our lips touched just as my cell sounded again.

Groaning at the interruption, I reared back. “I have to go,” I announced, reluctantly.

Elpi looked over to the large clock hanging on the far wall and nodded. His face darkened like a bad thought had run through his mind, but then it disappeared just as quickly as it came.

Pressing a final playful kiss on his hard abs, I rolled off the side of the bed, hissing as my bare feet hit the freezing cold tiled floor. As I moved to stand, Elpi’s hand caught my arm, causing me to glance back at him.

The conflict that played across his face confused me, but then on a reluctant sigh, he said, “Come back tonight.” It appeared to pain him to utter those words. My heart melted, knowing what displaying so much vulnerability must have cost him emotionally.

The butterflies in my stomach swooped and dipped again and, smiling, I nodded my head. “It’ll be late, though. I’m out with friends all day and most of the night.”

He threw me a curt nod, his face remaining unmoved and serious. Reaching out my hand, I threaded his fingers through mine. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

As he squeezed my hands, I blushed. I knew that was him telling me he wished I didn’t have to go either.

Resenting having to attend the Seahawks' season opening game today, I forced myself to leave the bed and dress.

Elpi sat up on the bed, the sheet riding low on his hips as he lit up a cigarette and held it between his lips, looking like a darker, more disturbed version of James Dean.

He was living, breathing poetry. Not love poetry, but the poetry which tears out your heart, rips it to shreds, pushes it back into your chest, and makes you question what the hell just obliterated your soul?

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him as I pulled up my dress over my breasts, his man bun seductively awry, his ripped tattoo-covered abs tensing as his arm moved up and down to hold his cigarette as he inhaled. When he blew out the smoke, small lines etched round his eyes; the severe effect screamed danger. I was completely infatuated with this man.

Elpidio caught me staring as he scratched his nails over the skin on his broad chest. His eyes lit with blatant desire, and he flicked his chin. “Get the fuck outta here or you won’t be going nowhere.”

Exhaling a shuddering breath at his curt demand, I strode to the bed, where Elpi balanced the cigarette on his full bottom lip—an action that was beginning to destroy me at how damn sexy it was.