Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (48 page)

“Marc, I know we have a lot we need to talk about, and I know we need to resolve those issues before we become intimate with each other again.” Angelina’s words brought him out of his musings. He prepared himself for her to send him on his way soon. “But I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Wait!
That didn’t sound like the brush-off he’d been expecting.

“Why don’t we go over to my place? We’ll be more comfortable while we wait for news from Cassie.” She pulled away and gazed up at him. “But we’re
just
going to talk. If we sleep, it won’t be together. Or we’ll be fully clothed. Do you understand?”

“Loud and clear.” At this point, sitting up all night with her and talking sounded like the best date they’d ever had. He remembered the marathon sensation-play scene with her the night he and Luke had been invited over for dinner last fall after meeting up with her again at daVinci’s.

Come to think of it, they hadn’t really dated much. Perhaps they should have done more of that and gotten to know each other better before he’d asked her to move in with him. But he’d known from the moment he’d rescued her at the club she would haunt him if she wasn’t by his side for the rest of his life.

Now how could he learn to keep her there?

Ten minutes later, they walked into her living room.

“Sit down, Marc. Let me pour you a glass of wine.”

“Coffee might be a better choice. Remember, we’re going to be up all night. Talking.” He knew she didn’t need the reminder. He did.

“Good thinking. I’ll start a pot.”

While Angelina worked in the kitchen, he walked over to the stereo to choose some music. Italian singers Laura Pausini and Elisa were well represented, but it was Mary Chapin Carpenter’s
Time*Sex*Love*
CD on the top that caught his eye. He glanced at the playlist and saw
King of Love
. His mind flashed back to the time Angelina had surrendered herself on the sofa nearby. So not what he wanted to listen to right now. Despite spending so much time steering her in Luke’s direction, thoughts of her being with anyone but himself churned Marc’s gut.

She’d tried to give him the time and space he needed to figure out his shit. But how much patience could one woman have? Would she wait until he figured out what held him back from claiming her as his own?

That constant sense of being trapped, he supposed. Angelina must have sensed it. She hadn’t pushed him to commit to anything. Would they ever be able to resume their relationship where they left off—or better yet, move forward into something more solid and permanent?

Next on the stack was Andrea Bocelli’s
Romanza
. Much better. He loaded the CD and surveyed the room. She’d only been back in this bungalow a week but had already made it look more like a home than his place felt after living there for years. The only time he’d been happy in his Denver house was when she was with him.

He glanced under the table near the window. Well, almost everything had been put back in place. Her nonna’s sewing basket wasn’t on the floor where it once was. Not that he would need to be scavenging for playthings tonight. A play scene was not in the cards.

Marc sat down on the peony-print sofa, and Angelina returned a few moments later. “Here you go.”

He reached up to take the mug from her and took a sip. Strong, hot, and black. Perfect. He watched her take a tentative sip from her own mug.

“Both of us don’t have to stay up. Why don’t you enjoy a glass of your white zin, and let me chug
caffé
?”

“No, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. I’m too worried about Luke.”

Their plans to talk about their relationship tonight would be overshadowed by worry about how Luke was doing. If he didn’t get another report in the next hour or so, he’d check in with Cassie.

Angelina sat down at the far end of the sofa and tucked her left foot under her right thigh. He wished she were wearing a skirt and not jeans. No, he needed to rein in any thoughts of enjoying her body tonight. The prime objective tonight was to talk.

“But I don’t mind sharing.”

Sharing? He glanced back up at her. What had he missed? Again, flashes of her spread open for Luke invaded his mind. “Beg your pardon?”

“It’s just easier to share the same drink, so I made an entire pot.”

“Ah, coffee!”

“What did you think I…Oh!” A flush crept into Angelina’s cheeks.

He grinned. “Nothing to worry about,
amore
. I do not plan to share you ever again.”

“That night with Luke was so out of character for me. I’m glad it didn’t go any further. Luke’s like a brother to me now. It would be… awkward, to say the least, to face him if we’d done anything more.”

Hearing her words relieved any lingering doubts he might have had about the time she’d spent with Luke recently.

I trust them both.

Good thing, because if he couldn’t trust Angelina with one of his best friends, then he’d never be the man she needed. Jealousy would shatter any trust they might build.

He raised the mug to his mouth and took another gulp as the music wafted around them. He didn’t know how to begin talking about what needed saying. The topic of his origins wasn’t easy for him to talk about.

“What happened when you went to Italy, if you don’t mind sharing? Did you find your birth father?”

“Sperm donor, more accurately. I come from rather inglorious paternal stock.”

She tilted her head, waiting for him to elaborate, but the last person he wanted to talk about was Solari.

“Did you learn anything more about what happened back then?”

He nodded. As much as he wanted to change the subject, he knew she was testing him to see if he’d share even the more sordid and painful parts of his life.

“He did drop a bit of a bombshell. I don’t know if he’s telling the truth, but he said Mama actually gave birth to me, but that he and Emiliana raised me because of the stigma of illegitimacy.”

“
Mio Dio
, Marc! That’s not a bombshell, it’s an H-bomb. What if what he says is true? Why haven’t you asked Mama?”

Marc’s blasé attitude about the whole sordid mess flared into anger. “How exactly would you suggest I phrase the question, Angelina? ‘So, Mama, any truth to the rumor that you slept with your brother-in-law and that I’m the resulting love child?’”

Angelina set her mug on the coffee table and scooted closer to the middle of the sofa and placed a hand on his knee.

“I’m sorry, Marc. But you know I’m right. This is something that needs to be discussed. You don’t know whose story is the truth and it’s eating you alive.”

He ran his hand through his hair. “No,
bella
, the only thing that’s eating me alive is that we’re discussing this when we could find something much more interesting to talk about—or do.” The opening strains of
Por Amor
burst from the speakers. “Let’s dance.”

Angelina pulled away, retreating to the far end of the sofa again. The hurt on her face was evident, but at least he could breathe again. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.”

Merda
. This isn’t the way he envisioned tonight going. He was making the same fucking mistake as before, shutting her out. But why did she have to push so hard on the issue of talking to Mama?

“Why not? I need the diversion.”

She scrutinized him a long moment, making him uncomfortable. Suddenly, she rose from the sofa and held out her hand to him. “Okay. Let’s dance then.”

He stood and walked around the coffee table to join her. There wasn’t much of an area for dancing, but he didn’t care. The main thing was having her in his arms again, however brief that moment might be.

They swayed to the music a moment. “Thanks for staying with me tonight. After what happened to Luke, I wouldn’t want any of you on the roads heading back to Denver.”

Good. A safe topic they could agree upon. “The main roads probably are fine.”

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you.”

“You’d have worried, even after the shit I’ve been?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “This is what someone does when they love a person. There isn’t any logic to it.”

She still loved him?

What did she need to hear from him?

They danced into the next track, until she pulled away slightly to look up at him. “You’ve grown awfully quiet. What are you thinking?”

“That’s a loaded question…”
that I do not wish to answer.

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know. I don’t like it when you shut me out, Marc. I’m trying to learn to let it bother me less. I hope and pray some day you will come to trust me enough to share your thoughts. That you’ll allow me to be a part of the major decisions in your life. Maybe even let me try to meet some of your emotional needs.”

With relative certainty, he believed she would never harm him—not intentionally anyway. But lowering his defenses invited too many risks for him to take. His psyche was raw enough already.

“What if I can’t?”

She paused for so long, he began to worry that there would be conditions placed on how long she’d give him. No woman waited forever for a man to get his head on straight.

“I have faith in you. One day, you’ll realize I am not one of the people who shattered your ability to trust.” She traced his jawline with her index finger. “I will work hard every day to earn your trust.”

Her words blazed like a beacon shining through the dark cave he’d lived in these past couple months… No. More like forever.

She pulled him closer. “While we’re waiting for news about Luke tonight, I want us to figure out what derailed us, so we can fix it and get back on track. Tell me what you
need
, Marc.”

His throat tightened as he heard her urgent plea. He didn’t need a woman to fulfill his needs. That would create an obligation on his part; obligation left one vulnerable. What if he failed—again? He wouldn’t allow himself to show weakness to her or any other woman. Besides, focusing on satisfying her needs usually resulted in keeping her from demanding anything deeper out of him.

Angelina waited no longer for him to respond to her declaration. “All I know is that I’m miserable when we’re apart.”

“Me too,
amore
. I’ve missed holding you like this.” That much he could admit truthfully. Her words gave him hope that she would give him time, and he relaxed a little more. “I thought I’d lost you forever,
cara
.”

“We still haven’t resolved anything. You know I want what’s best for you. So even if you don’t want me to point out things that make you uncomfortable, I will continue to do so.”

“Tonight, let’s just be together in this moment and leave the past where it belongs. We can’t do anything about that, but we do have some control over the future.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he pressed two fingers on her lips. “Shhh. No more talking. Let’s just dance.”

She sighed and pressed her cheek against his chest, tracing a finger down his jawbone to his chin. “I think what you need, Marc, is to be held. Cuddled. To be loved by a woman who doesn’t want you to give her anything but your presence.”

He took her upper arms and pushed her away. “I don’t
need
anyone, pet. My role in life is to provide for the needs of others. To fulfill
your
needs. To make
you
happy fulfills my needs.”

Marc needed to reassert his authority over her. To regain control. “Strip.”

The sadness and disappointment in her shimmering brown eyes tugged at his heart. “Marc—” She cleared her throat. “I love you. Nothing you do or say will ever destroy that love, even now when you’re so clueless you drive me insane.” She stepped away from him. “Right now, though, what I need is some space. Good night.”

Without a backward glance, she turned and walked into the hallway. He waited a few minutes for her to change her mind and return, but she didn’t. She’d walked away from him yet again. Only she wouldn’t leave her own house, would she?

The only way he knew how to express his feelings for a woman was to make love to her.
Merda
, how else would he be able to…

Wait. They hadn’t had sex the first night they’d shared that bed in the other room. Feelings of extreme vulnerability assailed him that night as well. Lost and confused. Despite that, he’d never felt a closer connection with any woman before—or since.

Not wanting to have them part like this, he followed her into the bedroom and heard her blowing her nose in the bathroom. She hadn’t closed the door, so he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching as she plucked two more tissues from a box and dabbed at her eyes and cheeks.

He’d hurt her. Again. He fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and comfort her, but he needed distance, too. Being together tonight had been a mistake.

“What were you expecting to happen,
cara
? Some great breakthrough into figuring out the enigma that is Marc D’Alessio? Well, good luck with that. I’ve been trying for months—no,
years!
Give up. He’s a lost cause.”

“Marc, you’re worth the time, even when you’re being an ass. I wish you could let go of the pain from the past, so we can get to the bottom of whatever is eating away at you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, but he broke free.

Trapped.

Unable to formulate a response she’d want to hear, he turned and continued back down the hallway, walking into the kitchen where he pulled a bottle of her rot-gut white zinfandel off the wine rack. He opened several drawers before finding the one with the corkscrew in it before remembering Angelina’s wines rarely contained corks. He rolled his eyes. Marc was the one who kept things tightly corked. Picking up the bottle, he twisted off the cap and poured himself a glassful.

His phone vibrated in his pants, reminding him of Luke’s situation.
Merda
, he couldn’t lose himself in
vino
tonight. Already he’d forgotten about Luke once. Glancing at the phone, he recognized the number as the one Karla had given him for Cassie earlier.