We hadn't told him that Isabella had been forced into a loveless arranged marriage with a monster in men's clothing. But we did tell him she had to go away for a while, and was sad about it. And he'd taken it upon himself to pray that she got happy again.
The kid was practically an angel.
I could barely remember to say a nice thing in my head for people, and there he was, praying for the joy of all his loved ones when he knew they were in a dark place.
"He does," Santi agreed, reaching for my waist, pulling me across the hall toward him, then into his arms.
And the man held me.
He just held me.
Without roaming hands.
Without sealing his lips over mine.
Without any sort of expectation at all.
He just held me.
I was not, as a rule, a woman who cried.
But there was no denying the tears that welled up in my eyes at that moment. Unbidden, unwanted, and utterly confusing.
It had been a long day, that was all.
"Hey, what's this?" Santi asked, pulling back, frowning down at me when a humiliating sniffle escaped me and a traitorous tear slipped down my cheek.
"It's been... a day," I declared, feeling a strange flip-flopping sensation in my stomach when his hand lifted to frame my face, his thumb moving out to wipe the tear away.
"Yeah," he agreed. "You want to end it?" he asked, making relief rush through my system when I realized he wasn't going to harp on the fact that I was having a, you know, emotional moment.
"God, yes," I said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.
"Come on," Santi said, pressing a hand to my lower back to lead me into his room, closing the door behind us. "So, what do you need?" he asked. "A bath? Sleep?"
"You," I decided, turning, and reaching up to grab the back of his neck.
"Well, you can have that," he told me with a wicked grin before I sealed my lips to his.
It all fell away in that moment.
All the fear, the stress, the uncertainty, the anger, the outrage, the worry for the future of a woman I barely knew. All the concerns about Salvatore's wounds he adamantly refused to get looked at by a professional. All the insecurity I had about starting to have feelings for a man.
It was all gone by the time Santi's arms went around me, pulling me up on my tiptoes, and holding me tightly against his chest.
We kissed like reassurance for a long moment, like we were communicating all the things we couldn't find the words to say.
But it wasn't long before desire started to spark through my system.
My hands got greedy then, moving over his shoulders, down his sides, finding the buttons for his shirt, and working them free as a rumble moved through his chest, and his tongue slipped between my lips.
Finished, I grabbed the sides of his shirt and jacket, pushing them off his shoulders, letting them pool down at his feet, before my hands were on him again, this time without the barrier.
His own hands started exploring too, down my sides, my back, then sinking into my ass, dragging me up on my tiptoes by it, pulling me more tightly against him. And as my pelvis met his, I could feel his hardness straining against his pants, as evident as the wetness between my thighs.
"Santi," I whimpered, wiggling against him.
On a primal growl, his lips ripped from mine.
There was nothing slow or careful or controlled about his motions as he grabbed my shirt, yanking it up, and tossing it to the side. His hands moved down my ribs, then snagged the waistbands of my pants and panties, dragging them down as he lowered to his knees in front of me, helping my feet out of my pants.
Finished, his hand grabbed my knee, yanking it up, spreading it out, opening me to him.
Before I could even feel anticipation shiver across my nerve endings, his mouth was on me, his lips sucking on my clit for a long moment before his tongue started to work me in slow, teasing circles, driving me up as slowly as possible.
My thighs started to shake at the need for release, something Santi seemed to notice, making his mouth move from me.
"No," I whimpered, trying to grab the back of his head.
But there was no use. He got back onto his feet, grabbing my waist, lifting, and tossing me back onto the bed.
Before I could even catch my breath, he was over me again, spreading my thighs wide for him, and moving between. Licking. Sucking. Then thrusting two fingers inside me, moving lazily.
An impatient whimper escaped me as my hips writhed up against his mouth, begging for more.
But Santi wasn't in the giving mood right that moment.
He pulled away, sitting back on his knees, grabbing me, and turning me onto my belly, sliding his flattened palms up the backs of my thighs, my ass, and up my spine until finally finding the band of my bra, working the clasps free.