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His body wanted to tarnish her instead, but he wasn’t going to let it.
“Don’t cry,” he said. He wished he was capable of moving to her side and holding her in his arms. The urge to flee returned. Leaving would be best for her. He was too broken.
Alina sucked in a breath, holding it to smother the next sob. She breathed out again, her arms tightening around her knees. She was wearing one of his long-sleeved shirts, and the material bunched around her waist. The white elastic of her cotton underwear was visible along the edge of her hip.
Desire returned, and he cursed himself to the deepest depths of hell as he averted his eyes. Another sniffle kept the erection at bay, but he needed to escape, even if she’d asked him not to go.
Indecision warred within him. Maybe it would have been better if Ivankov had retaliated for his prolonged absence, if Luka hadn’t been able to return.
“Your wound. Is it okay?”
Her voice slid inside him, soothing the ache in his stomach, the one that was deeper than his healing wound. He nodded, opening his eyes.
Some of the tension in her face faded into relief. “Good. You hit the ground with such a loud thump.”
Embarrassment filled him at his less-than-smooth escape from her kiss.
She bit her lip, then blurted, “I wasn’t thinking. I was happy to see you, and my body just—” She made a sound in her throat as she dug the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I really am making excuses.”
The idea that her action had been an instinct made Luka close his eyes as his chest pinched. She’d wanted to share her joy with him, just as he’d wanted to reach for it. Instead, it was as if shadows stretched between them.
“I’m glad you came back. Meg taught me to cook a little more yesterday, and dinner turned out well. Then you didn’t come home.”
The word home caused more churning in his stomach.
“I saved your portion… if you’d like me to heat it up?” There was something so hopeful in her eyes as she asked.
That hope added more confusion to his mind. Luka shook his head, pushing to his feet.
Alina scrambled up as well, but she didn’t try to reach him. “You need to go?” At his nod, her hands clenched together. “Will—” The word caught in her throat, and she swallowed to clear it. “Will you be back?”
“Tonight,” he managed to say, but it sounded like a promise, and he lost his breath.
Especially when she wiped at her wet cheeks and gave him one of her tense smiles. “Okay, tonight. I’ll heat up dinner for you when you get here. If you want.”
The hesitancy and the hope made him turn away.
Luka used the spare key he’d made for himself to lock up behind him. He knew he needed to go back to Ivankov. Though the pakhan had ignored him upon his return, he’d have instructions for him soon.
His feet carried him in a different direction instead.
Sneaking onto the Di Salvo estate was simple enough, despite their added security. It was still early in the morning, though more Di Salvos huddled around the kitchen than they had before Giovanni and Nera got married. Giovanni was usually there as well, with some of the people he trusted, watching over his new wife as she made something delicious.
When Luka stood in the entrance to the kitchen, Giovanni was present. He was also kissing his wife.
The kiss was not the innocent brush of lips Alina had given Luka. Giovanni clutched Nera close as they devoured each other, and Luka couldn’t quite look at them. Giovanni’s back was to him, and Nera’s face wore a combination of hunger and elation that Alina’s face hadn’t.
No, Alina had kissed him out of pure joy.
There was nothing pure to the way Nera gripped Giovanni’s ass. As their kiss went on, Luka wanted to bolt.
Giovanni turned with his wife still pressed against him, as if his lips would remain linked to hers as they left the kitchen.
Luka’s stomach twisted when they almost ran into him standing there.
Nera laughed and pulled away from her husband. “Good morning, Luka,” she greeted him as she always did.
Luka couldn’t meet her gaze.
