Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series) by Sabrina Lacey Read Free Book Online

Panting, he pushes me back with my mouth open and hungry for him.
“Wow. Someone’s had lessons. You’re really good.”
    An
unwanted memory of Christiano slinks out from the recesses of my mind. On a
whisper, I say, “Am I?” Before now, I’ve never gone down on anyone other than
Christiano. If I’m good, it’s because he loved me enough to show me what having
a good lover can do to you. He changed my life in so many ways. He made me feel
beautiful even when I was a mess.
    My
heart beats fast. I’m closing down. Unable to get rid of the realization that
if Christiano knew what I was doing , he would die . I stand and close my eyes, laying my hands
flat against the wall. I’m losing track of what’s going on. The worlds are
blending, Tuscany and San Francisco. Why did he have to remind me of
Christiano? I was so good at forgetting about him tonight, until now. But it’s
not easy to make four and a half years disappear.

14
Annie
    Stomach:
Making noises no one should ever have to hear
    ________
     
    “ Mi scusi.
Cibo? Umm… negozio…ummm…” Standing in the sunlight with the pale cement
sidewalk throwing a glare into my eyes, I frantically thumb through the
English/Italian translation book
    The
old Italian man sitting with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red in the
other, leans forward as though to hear me better. It’s not my volume that’s the
problem. He’s got his ear cocked in my direction. Feeling terribly helpless and
dumb, so I thumb faster. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to find it.”
    I
hear footsteps and a voice come up behind me. “What are you looking for?”
    Slouched
over the book, I look over. My eyes almost fall out of my head. A man with black hair, almond-shaped
eyes, and olive, sun-kissed skin, is smiling at me. He
looks maybe forty. I’m only twenty-three, but he’s so handsome, all I can think
is, wow.
    Standing
straighter, I manage a smile back and self-consciously smooth down my black,
clipped rat’s nest. “I’m looking for the grocery store. Or whatever you call
it, I’m not sure. I need food.”
    He
says something in Italian to the older guy, and his voice is really easy on the
ears. They seem to know each other. I can’t be sure, though, but they appear to
be familiar. If I knew what they were saying, maybe I’d know. People in Tuscany
prefer if you speak Italian and I speak none. In Verona, they were nicer, but
in Verona I was still thinking of Brendan and Corinne. So I ran. Again.
    Their
exchange complete, the handsome stranger offers, “I can show you.”
    I
look down at the cement and catch site of my black tights tucked into dirty
sneakers. I feel so dingy and dark compared to this man. He’s everything you’d
expect of casual elegance. He’s got two buttons open on his white cotton shirt
and I sneak a glance at his chest. Just one little glance can’t hurt.
    “Um…
that’s very nice of. Grazie.”
    He
motions with his hand, this way .
Together, we walk in silence for awhile . I’m really
not good at talking to new people. Adjusting the strap of my purse out of
habit, I hold the translation book to my chest like a shield. But I came here
to change, so I force myself to speak first. It feels like someone is pressing razors
into my eyeballs, it’s so hard. I cough, straining to overcome the dryness in
my throat. “Um…Do you live here?”
    He
nods. “Did you just arrive?”
    “How
did you know?” I stare at the sun’s halo-like light around the edges of his
hair.
    “You don’t know where are the stores,” he
points out with a jog of his index finger. “I’m not… erm…come si dice?”
    I
know that come si dice means how do you say it, so I smile.
“Psychic?”
    He
nods and repeats as though to memorize the word, “Psychic. Si. Psychic.
Psychic.”
    I
love his voice. I also love his Roman nose. I find it very appealing that
there’s nothing feminine about it. What I want to do is tell him he’s gorgeous,
but that would be really bold. If