Page 84 of Because I Need You
“I love you,” I said on a breath.
He stopped moving, eyes popping open as he looked down at me. He stayed inside me, though, his cock pulsating, bringing me a ting of pleasure even without the movement. His gaze was unreadable, making me squirm slightly, but I wouldn’t take the words back. I meant what I’d said, and even if this wasn’t who I was supposed to be with, this was what I felt for him.
“I love you,” I said again. “You don’t have to—”
“I love you, Isabel.” He brought his face down and closed his mouth on mine with a punishing kiss. He started moving again, thrusting deeper, harder. “Fuck. I love you.”
I came again. There was no stopping it this time. He emptied himself inside me, my name on his lips in a chant I’d grown to love. Afterwards, he wrapped his arms around me and turned us sideways on the bed, kissing my shoulder, my neck, squeezing me in his arms.
“I’m never letting you go.”
I smiled at his words and closed my eyes, falling asleep again.
35
Giovanni’s pancakes were ten times better than Joey’s, but I didn’t say that aloud since I didn’t want to hurt Joey’s feelings. It was comical since the complete pancake mix had come from the same box. All you needed to do was add water. Petra and Joey both got up and cleared their plates, washing them quickly before announcing they were going downstairs. I was still working on mine, lathering it with syrup. When I looked up, I found Gio watching me with a funny look on his face. Disgust? Maybe. Either way, it made me laugh.
He pointed at my plate with his fork. “You use a little boop of fake sugar in your coffee, yet you drown your pancakes in syrup?”
“It’s my cheat meal.” I shrugged, smiling as I popped a piece of the pancake in my mouth and closed my eyes with a groan. So, so good. When I opened them Gio was now watching me with a completely different expression, one that went straight between my legs.
“Why do you visit your grandmother?” he asked suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“If she was so shitty to you, and still is, why put yourself through that each week?”
I drank some chocolate milk — something Gio said he had every time he made pancakes — and shrugged as I set the glass down. “Maybe I’m a masochist.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, amusement lighting up in his eyes.
I looked up at him as I cut another piece of my pancake. He was watching me, waiting for me to give him an honest answer, but I wasn’t sure I had one. No one had ever asked me that question before. Once I was done chewing, I set down my silverware and gave him, and that question, my undivided attention.
“I know what it’s like to feel like you’re alone in the world, and if I can show up for her right now, I figure I should.” I shrugged.
He watched me closely while he chewed, as if looking for an underlying answer or something, but there was none. That was the truth. That was the real reason I went there, time and time again, even when she treated me like shit. Once upon a time, she’d been kind, she’d been loving and caring, and I liked the times when I caught a glimpse of that version of my grandmother. Maybe it was more selfish than it was selfless.
“Does your mom ever visit?” he asked after a moment.
“No. She calls her, though.”
“Yet, you make the journey there each week.”
“Yep.”
“It still doesn’t make sense to me.” He stabbed another pancake on the plate between us with his fork and set it on his plate.
“You wouldn’t visit your mother if she was in a nursing home?” I raised an eyebrow.
“My mother?” He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “Fuck no.”
That made me sad, but I understood that side of things as well. I looked down at the pool of syrup on my plate. I’d never realized how difficult talking about this with someone would be until this moment. It was difficult to explain to anyone, but it felt even more difficult to say it aloud in front of him, since I knew he’d experienced similar circumstances, and he’d been genuinely able to write off his mother in a way that I hadn’t. It wasn’t like I ever spoke to my mother, but that was a mutual choice at this point. I’d lost count as to how many times my calls went unanswered, so I just stopped trying, and she never did.
“Sometimes she’s nice,” I said quietly, eyes still on the syrup.
“And that’s enough of a reason for you to go? Because sometimes she’s nice?” He shook his head, chewing another piece of his pancake and waiting until he swallowed.
