Better to Eat You

by Savannah Skye

  At first, it was just a primal need tugging between us that needed to be sated. But then our caresses slowly became more intimate and somehow sweeter.

  It was then that something seemed to shatter deep inside of me and I almost felt like crying. It was as though Colt’s mouth and hands were worshipping me, and some perverse little demon hissed that I wasn’t worthy enough.

  Then he pushed both of his hands inside the torn bustier, and his calloused fingers on my bare back annihilated what fragments of logic I’d had left, along with that voice.

  Time, space, names – winked right out of existence.

  All that mattered was his lips, his hands, and that he didn’t stop.

  Reaching up, I linked my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, and let my fingers drift through his thick hair. He made a low sound of satisfaction in his throat and a hot ache flared between my thighs.

  About to hook a leg up around his waist, a sudden, sharp clearing of a throat sounded in my periphery, and time started again, pinning me like a piano falling out of the sky.

  I froze.

  I was standing in a dressing room, making out with Colt Capestrana, and enjoying it.

  Colt was pulling away, laughing, and whispered in my ear, “Think we’re busted, Rabbit. How ‘bout we go back to my place?”

  Nausea churned in my gut and I pulled away in one swift motion. “Uh, well...” I couldn’t even look at him, as my fists knotted by my sides. “I-I should get dressed.”

  I saw Colt go to touch me out of my periphery, and I couldn’t help it, I flinched. His hand dropped and he vanished out of the room. In a daze, I got dressed, vaguely listening to him schmooze the saleslady who’d caught us. Silently, I sent her a prayer of thanks.

  If you didn’t come by, I may have…

  Oh God, I couldn’t even think about it.

  Some part of me wanted to curl into a ball in the corner and never leave. My heart was going a million miles a minute and my hands were shaking as I pulled my boots on.

  By the time I was done, and mustered the courage to come out, Colt was alone, and as usual, smirking, hands in his pockets, looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary.

  Or in my case, the fox who’d snared the rabbit.

  Taking a deep breath, I flashed him a smile, and walked over, desperately trying to appear collected, even as the ground seemed to lurch under my feet like a carnival ride. Reaching up, I touched his lips. “This color looks pretty good on you.”

  Colt took my hand and kissed my fingertips. A shock of pleasure went through me even as my mind shrieked, No! Stop doing this to me! Locking my spine, I forced myself to keep smiling and also remember who Colt was. Not the way his mouth or body felt pressing against mine.

  That sharpened my focus. I couldn’t completely shut him down, so I’d have to play hard to get. Men liked coy, right?

  You got this, Bells! Deep breath and chill. It was just a kiss.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He finally let go of my hand, and wiped his mouth, while letting his eyes run over me. “You want to continue where we left off?”

  Keep ‘em close enough to hook him, but not so close that you’re the prey this time.

  I responded, trailing a finger down Colt’s chest, “We don’t want to rush things, do we? Anticipation is half the fun.”

  Colt nodded, but there was no hiding the pained wince.

  Good. At least I wasn’t the only one aching.

  He regained his composure quickly, and the cocky bad-boy grin was back in an instant. “Well then, I’m starving. Let me take you to lunch.”

  I could tell by the way he was still looking at me that he was hungry for much more than lunch, but grateful for the subject change, I nodded.

  Colt explained on the way out that he’d paid for the vaudeville playboy bunny costume and asked the woman to make sure the new bustier they sent along was a lot sturdier. Nodding, barely listening to him, I still tried to wrap my mind around what had happened.

  You kissed Colt Capestrana, that’s what happened.

  And you were about ready to do a hell of a lot more.

  That was the plan, though, right? Hook, line, and sink this Capestrana.

  Once outside, the cold air seemed to snap me out of my daze a little, and I was able to at least participate in the conversation like a normal human. Since it was so cold, we only walked down a little ways, before Colt led me into a gorgeous bistro.

  By the time the bread and wine came, I was my own woman again. Sure, there were a few moments where I lingered on Colt’s full lips, square jaw, and big hands, but that was okay.

  No guilt.

  To my surprise, Colt backed off too. He was considerate and giving me space, not flirting or trying to play footsie, as I expected. At first our conversation was fairly inane, but then it turned to the food, and Colt regaled me with the time the Capestrana family had taken over this very restaurant.

  “Yeah, we were here three hours past their close. So my dad buys the manager and waitstaff a bunch of drinks, and then they didn’t want to leave.” His face crinkled up with laughter. “But then two of my cousins get into it, break a table, the cops come, and so ended another Capestrana family outing.” He shook his head. “Probably why we don’t eat out much. That and Mama Ange, she’s my grandmother. She’d resent it, even if this place is one she’ll deign to eat in.”

  “She’s that good of a cook?” I asked, trying to remember if I ever saw his grandmother.

  “That good. I’m not half bad either.” He winked. “Neither is my brother, and our sister Trina is an amazing baker. But Dante shouldn’t be allowed within four miles of a stove, and neither should the twins.”

  A little curious in spite of myself, I asked, “How many cousins do you have?”

  “Just first or all the second, third, fourth?” Colt laughed.

  “You know your fourth cousins?” I giggled too. “I barely know any of my first.”

  “Yeah, my family’s tight like that.” His eyes went soft for a second and an ugly spike of anger shot through me. “They’re a pain in the ass, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

  Colt went on, enjoying himself, and regaling me with stories, most of which involved Dante and Axe, who seemed to be his partners in crime, but also about his sisters, and a slew of other Capestranas I didn’t give two shits about.

  I was quiet, nodding along, and smiling, even though I was simmering with rage inside. At one point, he said something about “Axe and Brenna”, and I tried to figure out who she was in his family, but I hadn’t been paying close enough attention.

  Because any time Axe’s name was mentioned, white-hot fury lashed through my brain.

  What bullshit. How could he sit here and spin all this nonsense with such a straight face?

  All these people he was portraying as a comical kind of circus troupe who loved each other were lies and dust. So they were cute kids and their daddy loved them. I knew what bloodthirsty cowards the Capestranas were. After all, didn’t his family snitch on mine just to get all the action in this city for themselves? Didn’t they let Justin take the fall so one of their own could walk free?

  One of their own who happened to be this smarmy bastard’s younger brother, and oh yeah, had murdered my father. For a moment, I thought about how good it would feel to use a gun on Axe.

  Shifting in my seat, I continued to smile, even as Colt’s stories got drowned out by the heavy drumming of my heart.

  I couldn’t believe I almost got charmed by a Capestrana or forgot how fake they really were.

  More than that, I couldn’t believe I kissed him and had enjoyed it.

  Glancing around the restaurant for the waiter, because God did we need another bottle of wine, I saw the front door swing open, and a middle-aged couple entered.

  The woman arrested my glance. She had a kind face, old-fashioned cat-eye glasses, and a huge poof of black curls.

  My entire body locked up.
<
br />   Mrs. Tarillo. Shit.

  Without even thinking, I dove under the table, crying out, “Oh, oops, dropped my-uh, earring!”

  What was she doing out of Staten Island?

  I whimpered in my head, pretending to crawl around, and look for my earring. Mrs. Tarillo had been my babysitter as a kid, watching me whenever my father had business in New York. In fact, I’d spent more time with the Tarillos than my own family some months. No way she couldn’t recognize me. I’d just seen her at my father’s funeral.

  Jerking around to try to see if she was gone, I smacked my forehead into Colt’s knee, and he let out a choked growl.

  “Uh, Bella, you want some help?” I could picture the grin on his face as he tapped his foot.

  “Nope, I’m good!” I squeaked, a warm flush of embarrassment rising in my chest. Then I let out an enormous sneeze, hitting his knee again, and he jumped a little.

  Smooth, Bells.

  This was going great. All that oh-so-necessary anger I’d been working up at burned away under the heat of my panic and humiliation.

  I stayed down there longer than I probably had to, and when I crawled back out, my cheeks were on fire. To make matters worse, I cracked my shoulder on the table edge as I emerged.

  Two pairs of eyes locked onto me. One belonging to Colt, the other belonging to the waiter who was holding a bottle of wine for his approval, now with his jaw on the floor.

  “Hi, there,” I said, trying to appear nonchalant. “I just dropped something, is all.”

  “Riiiight. Uh, I’ll get your uh… I’ll be right back,” said the shell-shocked kid, and he gave me a funny look, before shooting Colt a masculine nod of approval tinged with hero-worship.

  My entire body went hot as I realized that idiot probably thought I was down on my knees to do a little in public knob-slobbing.

  Jesus, could this day get any worse?

  Reluctantly I met Colt’s eyes, and noticed he was staring at my naked ears, a frown marring his brow.

  “Um, I forgot I wasn’t wearing earrings.”

  Wishing I was wearing a low cut top, I instead had to make due with squeezing my arms around my middle and propping up my boobs, hoping that was enough. “I’m such a ditz, huh? See, I have this one favorite pair, and they always pop off, so when I touched my ear, I thought it happened again. But then I remembered I didn’t wear them for that very reason! Isn’t that funny?”

  Colt raised his eyebrows slowly. He was smiling, but his eyes were studying me carefully, and then he glanced around the restaurant.

  A chill shot up my spine, but it dissipated as he shrugged and faced me again.

  “Sounds like you need some new earrings.”

  I waited until he was looking at the menu again and shot a look around the restaurant myself for Mrs. Tarillo. I almost went boneless with relief when I saw the back of her hair poof on the other side of the huge room.

  “Yeah, for sure,” I chirped and took a deep swig of my wine. “So what were you saying?” A throb of pain went through my head and shoulder, and I took another swig.

  “We should probably order.” As he read the menu, his smile tugged up into one cheek. “If that poor waiter ever recovers and comes back to our table, that is.”

  Riiiight.

  Colt

  Well, that was somethin’ you didn’t see every day.

  When Bella had crawled out from under the table, her face had been almost as red as her hair. She tried to play it off, but I saw the way her eyes darted around the restaurant, and then how her body had sagged with relief.

  As a nickname, Rabbit was becoming more and more appropriate for this skittish, beautiful woman. Now I really had to wonder if she was on the lam from an abusive relationship. I’d tried to see if there was anyone in the bistro who seemed off, but no alarm bells rang for me.

  Watching Bella playing with her hair as she ordered her food, and unable to meet the waiter’s eyes, made my gut clench with anger. If there was some dickhead after her, I’d be more than happy to give him a proper welcome to my city.

  Huh. Maybe I should ask Westfield to check it out. Give him somethin’ to do besides irritate me.

  Bella looked up, as though sensing my gaze, and gave me a small smile.

  Then and there I decided I had to keep an eye on her. Take Bella under the Capestrana wing, so to speak. Even though my family could be extremely insular in some regards, we also tried to live up to my grandmother’s example. Mama Ange always looked out for anyone who was struggling. Her whole life, she’d always taken in what Pop called “strays”, people who had nowhere else to go. More than once, we’d come home, and she’d had a woman on the run from her husband sleeping in the spare room or a homeless kid at the table or an evicted family camped out.

  My heart seized in my chest.

  That was how I met Trent.

  But I didn’t want to think about my old best friend right now. It was hard enough meeting his kid’s eyes every time Trent Jr. babysat Toro for me. Diane, Trent’s wife, worked for me, and also lived on the floor below me. I loved them both, but sometimes it was hard having them so close by. Trent had been one of the few people besides family I could rely on and talk to that I didn’t feel like I needed to protect. I wasn’t the heir to the throne to him or the one to call when he needed someone to do the hard shit.

  We were equals. Buddies.

  And fucking cancer had stolen him away.

  Even now, I wondered if I had taken better care of him…watched closer…noticed how thin he’d been getting or how long that cold had stuck around, if he’d still be here.

  Shaking my head, I instead focused on Bella, who was swaying to a smooth Sinatra jam. Her cheeks still had a flush of color on them, from the wine this time, making her freckles stand out even more, while the green in her eyes was the shade of a lazy summer afternoon. Again, I relived that desperate, bittersweet kiss, and almost sighed.

  Goddamn that saleswoman’s timing.

  “What’re you thinking about?” Bella asked suddenly and I realized we’d both fallen quiet. But it had been such a comfortable silence, I didn’t even mind.

  Hoping I never forget how beautiful you look right now, I thought, but instead, I remarked, “Oh, I was just remembering all the stuff I gotta do today.” An idea hit me and I smiled broadly. “Actually, maybe you can help me.”

  “Me?” She looked wary. “With what, exactly?”

  “Since I helped you today,” I remarked innocently, and Bella bit her lip, “I was wondering if you’d come with me later on to help me pick out some glassware for the club. Mama Ange…” I sighed, rubbing my face in both amusement and exasperation. “She wanted to help, so she got some. And they’re mason jars. I was like, Ange, it’s a club, not a country wedding.”

  Bella laughed. “Bet she didn’t appreciate that.”

  “She told me that if I was going to be an ungrateful grandson I didn’t have to ask for her help in the first place. I wasn’t going to tell her that she was the one who offered, but Beppe for some reason, opened his big mouth. And she just goes, ‘chi ha capo di cera non vada al sole.’ And then she threw her shoes at us.”

  “Ha! She’s old school,” said Bella, her eyes lighting up.

  “Oh yeah. But, I need to get that glassware today, and I need the right touch. Preferably a woman’s, say a woman who has an eye for style, maybe one that spent time in Europe, and can appreciate fine craftsmanship?”

  “Oh, I see. Well, I guess you’re lucky I’m around, huh? Otherwise you’d have art deco and country chic, eek.” Her nose wrinkled and the urge to kiss her gripped me. “S’pose I could, sure.”

  She finished her wine, and I happily topped her off, noting the tipsy glint in her eyes. I wondered if maybe I could get her to spill a little bit more about herself. Was that too devious, or just devious enough?

  Our food came, served by the waiter who was now as solemn as a monk, which caused us to burst into laughter when he walked away.

  �
�Oh God, I can’t even look at him,” Bella murmured, leaning against her hand, her shoulders shaking in mirth. Then she picked up a bite of her beef bourguignon and her eyes closed. “Wow, this is the best I’ve tasted since leaving France.”

  “Did you live there?” I asked, even though I was already certain she had. It explained the little mannerisms, the way she spoke French so well, and her taste in clothes. “Bet you studied dance in Paris, huh?”

  Bella’s eyes opened and she shot me a sassy look. “You’re very observant. I did live there for many years, yes.”

  “Have you ever been to La Maison des Frigos?” I asked, naming one of my favorite restaurants in Paris. I liked to go there alone, to drink wine with the artists, and pretend I had no responsibilities. But I could suddenly see Bella with me there.

  “Yes!” Bella exclaimed, looking the happiest I’d seen her yet. “Oh, that was one of our favorite places. Viviane, my friend, she loved to date artists, get them to paint her. Her flat was full of all these portraits and nudes of her, it was incredible.” A laugh bubbled out of Bella, then she burst out eagerly, “What about Le Vieux Chalet?”

  “Picasso’s place? But, of course,” I responded in a French accent. “I went there this one spring night and I must have sat there for hours.”

  “Must have had good company,” Bella teased.

  “Actually, I was alone,” I responded, frowning at my wine glass. When had I finished this off? “Most of the time when I’m overseas, I’m travelling alone…”

  Her eyebrows drifted down. “Wait, really? But all your cousins, your family…”

  I shrugged. “I kind of like to keep that stuff a little separate. My family claims enough of my soul. Besides, most of them don’t really care for art and food and music like… that.” I almost told her about how I got that kind of taste from my late mother, but then I stopped myself.

  Bella asked me about other places, and from there, we couldn’t stop talking. I wasn’t sure whether it was the wine, the food, or the way the mid-afternoon sunlight was creeping into the bistro, but this was a real conversation. We talked endlessly about Europe, the art we’d seen, the restaurants we’d been to, and places we’d like to go still. Part of me wanted to ask her how she’d afforded that lifestyle, but the other part didn’t want to pry. I was just enjoying her company. She had a silly sense of humor lurking under all her elegance. Again, I found myself wondering how she wasn’t Sicilian. But maybe I was just a bit prejudiced.