Stolen Touches - Page 87

Milene cocks her head and watches me. Apparently coming to some mysterious conclusion, she slides down off thebed and takes the IV pole in her hand. With it at her side, she comes to stand next to me.

I take a deep breath, then exhale and grab her by the back of her neck. “Never, vita mia,” I whisper.

“Did you have a doctor check you out?” she asks.

“No.”

Her right eyebrow lifts in one perfect arch. “Why?”

“I was busy.”

“Busy with what?”

Killing the Irish and freaking out. Not that I plan on telling her that. “Doesn’t matter.”

She sighs. “You look awful, baby.”

“I know.”

She places her palm on my cheek and pulls me down for a kiss. “Let’s find someone to have a look at your lip. And your eye. Your face is a mess.”

“The fuck with my face.”

“Can I have a hug?”

“No.”

Milene blinks in confusion. “Why the hell not?”

“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt your arm.” My gaze moves down to the bandage, then I quickly avert my eyes and place a kiss on her forehead. “I can’t bear to even look at it.”

“Tore . . .”

“I was so scared, Milene,” I whisper again, tracing the line of her eyebrow with the tip of my finger. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything like that before. It’s like I jumped off a cliff and watched the earth rise up to meet me, just waiting for the impact.” My finger travels down until it stops on her bottom lip. “I’ll get a fucking aneurysm because of you.”

Milene leans against me, wraps her hand round my neck and tilts her head up. “A kiss. Then a hug.”

I narrow my eyes and grab her face between my palms and press my lips hard against hers. The pressure in my chest builds, my heart beating so fast it feels like it might burst out. I press her harder to my body, careful not to hurt her arm.

“You don’t understand, Milene,” I say into her mouth.

“Of course I do.” She smiles and looks right into my eyes. “I love you, too, Tore.”

Chapter 25

Six weeks later

A door clicks open and then bangs closed.

“Milene!”

I let go of the curtain I was in the process of hanging and turn to see Salvatore marching across the living room toward me.

“Standing on a coffee table? Really?” He grabs me around the waist and lowers me onto the floor. “You could have broken your neck! That thing is two hundred years old. It could have collapsed underneath you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m serious. I’m going to go completely gray in a year because of you.”