Her eyes search my face. “Why are you like this?”

“If I told you why, you’d only hate me more.”

Does he think I hate him? Prince Fuckface I hate with every bone in my body, but Rocco? Hate is such a strong word.

“I wouldn’t say that I hate you … you just get under my skin.” I take in a deep breath as he continues to toy with my fingers. His hand is shaking as if he has a nervous twitch or something. “Why do you drink? Did some woman break your heart?”

“Interesting question, there. Let me see … Trinity fucked me over, but that’s not the half of it, Suds.”

Okay, so I know his parents died, and that’d be enough to haunt anyone, but there must be something else. Is she the reason for his binge-drinking and fucked up serial one-night campaign?

“What did she do?”

“Ah, you see. She did so many things, and apparently not just with me.”

She cheated on him? Ouch.

“Tell me about her,” I probe. I’m more than curious to know about the woman that damaged him. By the looks of it, she did a stellar job.

He scrapes his hands down his face, and then rakes his fingers back through his hair. “It’s been fuckin’ years since I’ve thought about her.”

Then maybe she isn’t the reason for the alcohol, but I’m guessing whatever happened with her has had a big impact on the way he uses women.

“Maybe it’ll help to talk?”

“Unlikely,” he mutters.

A long pause follows, and I figure I’ve gone too far. He doesn’t wanna talk, and I totally get that. I still have trouble. I don’t share my shit with anyone. April, to some extent, but even she doesn’t know the whole Fuckface saga. It’s a part of my life that no one else needs to know about.

As I stand to stretch my legs, Rocco sits up and grabs my hand.

“She was a tattoo artist. And a nympho. So really, she was a match made in heaven for me.”

He lifts back the blanket and tugs me to sit beside him. Looks like I’m in for a bedtime story.

I wiggle into the back of the couch, hugging my knees to chest, tucking my ice-cold toes under his jean-clad thighs.

“Is she still alive?” I dare to ask. Seems like there’s a lot of death around him. Poor guy.

He rests his closest arm on the back of the couch, and throws the blanket over my legs with his other hand.

“I wouldn’t know. We’re not in the same circles anymore.”

“So she cheated on you?”

“Too many times to count. I was a fucked-up, dopey-eyed kid who thought she was the world. When I found out she was taking sexual favours as payment for her artwork it was the biggest kick in the guts. Fuckin’ bitch.”

Wow. What a piece of work. I shake my head. “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah,” he grunts.

“It’s no wonder you have commitment issues,” I joke.

A smile curls at his mouth. “After her, easy is just … easier, you know? I don’t need that shit.”

“Is she the reason why you drink?”

His smile is gone in an instant and his head falls back against the couch cushion. He blinks as if he’s contemplating each open and close of his eyelids.

“I drink because I’m a failure. I failed my brother,” he chokes out.

A lone tear glides down his pale face. “Il mio fratellino,” he says, whisper-soft with a hint of an accent.

Oh, Rocco.

I stretch my legs over his lap and pull his head to my chest. It’s the only thing I can do in this moment that feels right.

Rocco sweeps his strong arms around my waist, and with ease pulls me down the couch so I’m lying flat. He buries his face into my stomach and tightens his grip around me. He stills, and I sense him holding his breath. Moisture leaches through the thin fabric of my tank top beneath his head.

With caution, I smooth my hand over his unruly hair and rest my flattened palm in between his shoulder blades. The tension he is burdened with is unmistakeable.

I rub over his upper back in gentle circles. Little by little, the stiffness in his frame fades.

His struggle is real.

I bite back tears of my own. I can’t remember the last time I cried.

My heart hurts for Rocco.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ROCCO

Monday

I smell pussy. I came home alone last night, right? If I didn’t, then why is the chick still here? I move slightly onto my side, and outstretch my bent leg. A warm body rolls into me. I open my eyes, and focus on a white tank top. Inspecting lower, I find a pair of purple and white-striped pyjama bottoms. Huh?

When I look back up, I am rewarded with a prized pair of high-beaming beauties and tangled blonde hair around tanned shoulders. Fuck me, Soph is beautiful, even in this state.

What is she doing here? What are we doing here together?

Fuck, that’s right. We talked. As I watch her breathe, shallow and softly through her mouth, the conversation comes back to me in great detail.

I don’t want this to be fucking weird. Figuring this may be my only shot to get close, I press my lips against her belly button, and then move them lower … and lower … and then take a deep breath in through my nose.

Her scent sends blood rushing between my legs. My cock throbs for this chick. I could try and talk her out of these pants, but for some reason I won’t attempt it. My head is blocking me. Is it the fact she doesn’t hate me after all? That she listened? That she’s … different?

Christ, please don’t ask me how I’m feeling when you wake up. Please.

“Suds?” I whisper.

“Hmm,” she mumbles, arching her back and slipping her fingers into my hair as her hips roll into me.

Now I really wanna talk her out of these pants. You’re making this real fucking hard, Suds. Making me hard.

The only way I’m gonna stop myself from doing it is by being a smart arse. She responds well to my arsehole ways.

“Was it good for you?” I ask with one eyebrow raised.

“Huh,” she mumbles, as her eyelids flutter open. “What the hell?” She sits up and moves her arse farther back into the couch.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember?”

A sly smile creeps over her lips. She must be onto me.

“I’m shittin’ you, really, but keep that moaning up and I can’t be held responsible for what happens next.”

“I was not moaning,” she protests.

“You were too. Don’t worry, babe. If I had the chance to work you with my tongue, I promise you’d remember every little flick.”

She rolls her eyes. It’s very dramatic. “Very funny.”

“And to be clear, I prefer my women wide awake and moaning for real before I get down to business.”

She shoves me on the shoulder as she swings her legs off the couch. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

“No probs.”

Suds sneezes three times in a row. I’m surprised her head is still on her shoulders. She stands up and pulls a few tissues from the hall table and blows her nose.

“Make me breakfast,” she orders as she walks down the hall. When she steps into the bathroom, she turns, flicks me the bird and pokes out her tongue. Thatta girl. I chuckle to myself as she disappears from view. This woman has so many sides to her, but I’ve gotta say, the one with attitude gets me the hardest.

“Jesus, will you ever put the seat down?” she shrieks. I don’t miss the humour in her tone, though. There is next to no stabby vibe. I’m wearing her down.

“I’m saving myself valuable time, Suds.”

Her head pokes out from the doorway. “Well, with all this extra time you have on your hands, you can spend it in the kitchen.”

“Fine,” I yell out, then chuckle quietly to myself. I’ll cook the woman breakfast. After last night, I owe her that much.

Knowing there’s fuck all food in the house, I grab my keys and duck down to the corner shop for supplies.

Mamma, I’m about to get back in the kitchen.