Adam cleared his throat. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to get here, Doc."

"There are some avalanche warnings out, so I tried to find a safer route. It took longer."

So Adam had asked him to come-or at the very least knew he might come. She wished Marc had chosen to come here of his own accord; of course, he wouldn't have known to find her here if Adam hadn't told him.

She took Marc's hand, and he guided her out of the booth and onto the dance floor. She'd missed his touch. She'd missed him, period. He cupped her chin and tilted her head back. Electricity ricocheted throughout her body, especially where the sides of his fingers touched her chin and neck.

"You look so beautiful, mio angelo."

Walking into his arms again, she felt as if the world had suddenly righted itself after months of being off kilter.

Safe, protected...

No, wait! She pulled a few inches away. How could she just melt into his arms like this? Nothing had been resolved. He'd shut her out for months. She steeled her resolve. "We need to talk."

"Yes, but first, I need to hold you. What we need to do right now is dance."

Angelina saw pain and something that looked like fear in his moss-green eyes and decided the time to talk could come later. She pulled him into her arms, wanting to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be all right-but she had thought that before and things hadn't turned out so well.

"You feel so good, cara." They danced for several songs, content to say nothing.

After a while, Marc's hand glided up and down her back before creeping under her untucked blouse. He touched her bare lower back, sending a shiver up her spine. "You've lost weight."

His accusation making weight loss sound like a bad thing made her smile. Even though she hadn't intentionally tried to lose weight, she had dropped about fifteen pounds since she'd left Marc. But she could stand to lose a few pounds.

"I haven't been very hungry lately."

He grunted and pinched her ass. If she still lived with him and was under his training as a submissive, that grunt would have meant he planned to remedy the situation later-both by hand-feeding her in the kitchen and flogging her in the playroom so she wouldn't neglect her body's needs. Of course, his grunt meant nothing this time. Just an automatic response.

"Do I need to put you in culinary bondage and make you eat every dish your nonna in Marsala taught you to make? You know, this can be arranged quite easily. The equipment is still at my house."

Her heart raced at the thought of being restrained by him again. She wanted to be in any kind of bondage with Marc again.

Stop it!

She admonished herself for being weaker even than Marc when it came to her desire for sex and submission. She needed to fight this urge to kneel at his feet. If anyone needed to be tethered to an appliance, it was Marc-to keep him from running from her. She wouldn't let him use her body and send her away again. For Marc, their relationship always had been about the physical. She needed more than that. She needed an emotional bond that couldn't be broken.

His hand crept farther up her back, and she felt her breasts freed of their bonds with a deft flick of the bra's clasp. She tried to pull away, but he held on tightly. "Let me touch you. I missed you so much, pet." His hands reached between their bodies to cup her breast.

"Marc, stop. We aren't ready..." The catch of anticipation in her voice made her protest sound lame even to her ears. When he pinched her nipple, her hips jolted into his body, and she pressed against his erection.

But nothing had been resolved! Sex was a bad idea.

She pushed him away and looked up at him. "I can't think when you're touching me like that."

He grinned. "I don't want you to think."

His charm wasn't going to work this time. He'd played her body like this too many times, getting her to back down or forget what she'd wanted to say. Steering her focus away from the issue at hand. She needed to get him off this dance floor and turned to present her backside to him.

"Rehook my bra."

Marc sighed. "You used to be so easy to distract. Where did you learn to be so focused?"

From you.

But she felt anything but focused now. Her nerves were raw, her mind scattered.

His hands slipped under her shirt again, and he took his sweet time fumbling with the hook of her bra, spending a lot of time rubbing the valley of her spine. Tingles coursed down her back to her pussy. He was touching her the way he used to when he prepared her for a play scene. Warming her up.

Angelina put several feet between them and turned around, not caring her girls were still loose. "I'll be back and then we're going to talk." She marched into the ladies room and rehooked her bra, checked her makeup, and took several deep breaths.

Adam had vacated what was becoming "their" booth, and she slid into the spot where he had been sitting earlier but not far enough in to invite Marc to join her. She tried to ignore the disappointment in his eyes.

"Now, Marc, we're going to talk. No more touching. Except maybe hands-no farther than the wrists."

He sighed again. "You've gotten a little bossy. I told you there would be no encore for Mistress A."

Despite his words, Angelina saw a smile flicker across his lips before he obeyed and kept his hands off her. She smiled back at him.

Before she could find the words to begin, Rico placed what looked like her favorite white zin in front of her and a glass of white wine in front of Marc.

She looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Rico."

"Don't thank me, babe. Just doing my job. Marc ordered them."

She looked back at Marc. "Well, then, thank you."

This was her second drink, so she'd better go easy on it. She needed to keep her wits about her in case something came of this reunion later.

After Rico returned to the bar, Marc's expression became serious. "I'm sorry."

She blinked rapidly, hoping to stave off the tears.

Do. Not. Cry.

Not in front of him, anyway. He already had too much power over her.

"You didn't deserve the way I treated you, Angelina. None of this had anything to do with you."

His words stung. Nothing to do with her? They were stuck in the same place as before. "Marc, when are you going to learn that when you hurt, I hurt? I thought you wanted me to share your life with you, but..." She picked up her glass and took a gulp of the fruity wine, searching for courage, then gazed across the table at him again. "What I didn't deserve was to be shut out. If we're going to have any kind of relationship, we can't keep secrets from each other. We need to support each other-in good times and bad."

Marc glanced down at her hand on the table. Had the familiar wedding vows sent him into retreat?

"I fucked up."

Angelina nodded. "That's an understatement."

What did Marc want from her-from life? When he didn't say anything, she leaned forward. "What are you going to do about what your mama told you?"

He met her gaze. Fear again. "I'm not sure."

Two months to think about this on his own, and he didn't have any answers yet? "Have you talked with her since February?"

He looked away again. No, she didn't think so. Marc didn't confront people about important issues.

"We've talked but not about that."

What was his motto? KISS-Keep it Superficial, Sweetie. Or something like that.

She could see where his avoidance tactics came from. Marc's whole family was the same way. How could his mother talk with him since that emotional breakdown in her office and not mention the enormous elephant standing in the room? The D'Alessios suppressed, repressed, and denied anything too painful. Mama had secrets she hadn't revealed. Marc might even have discovered things from his biological father in Italy that Mama could confirm or deny.

But only if he'd talk with her!

"Do you even want to find out what happened back then, Marc?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

He'd been almost cocky before, supremely sure of himself. Now he was in full retreat. The world of illusion Marc had so carefully created for himself disappeared in the glare of reality.

Marc sipped his pinot bianco. Why did he act like a fucking teenager around Angelina? When he'd been with Pamela, he'd managed to have a mature, adult conversation. With Angelina, he thought with his little head. Sex wasn't going to win her back. He set the glass down and reached across the table to take her hand, pulling back when he remembered she'd said no touching.

Talk to her. Don't blow this.

Angelina met him the rest of the way and squeezed his hand. "I said hands were okay."

She'd changed since she'd left. She'd gained a lot of confidence-without him. Or maybe because of him. She'd walked out on him, after all. But he'd shut her out for weeks-nearly two months, actually-before she'd finally given up on him and moved out. Coming home last week to find every remaining trace of her gone had been the wake-up call he needed. As long as her nonna's furniture had been in his house, he expected her to come back to him.

Okay, he'd been an ass when she'd first left and pretended to himself he welcomed the time alone.

Until the mission to rescue Savannah. Seeing Damian's girl beaten and abused had stirred up all the protective feelings he'd had for Angelina after the abuse she'd suffered at the hands of Martin. He hadn't been able to get back to Colorado fast enough to check on Angelina but still hadn't been able to make the call. He'd never been so paralyzed by fear. What could he offer her? What did she need from him? He was still the same man-totally fucked up and clueless about his past.

But what if she was happier without him? Tonight, she showed no signs she wanted to rekindle their relationship or even needed him.

Marc downed the rest of his wine in two gulps. She'd thrived without him. More beautiful than ever. Out with her friends. Hell, his friends. Their friends.

Perhaps he needed her more than she needed him.

She blinked, her chin quivering. "Is there any hope for us being able to talk with each other, Marc? This silence is killing me."

Merda.

Sometimes he felt safer inside his own head. He should be able to communicate better, especially as her Dom. He ran his thumb through the condensation on his wine glass, avoiding eye contact. "Perhaps you deserve someone better."

She leaned against the back of the booth, and he felt the withdrawal of her hand like a knife stab to his gut. "I never wanted anyone else, Marc. I only want you to stop running from me."

Marc still couldn't look her in the eye. "I don't even know who the fuck I am. I can't be your Dom until I get my head on straight again."

"Then just be my man. My friend. I can live without kink, but I've been miserable trying to live without you. Maybe this time we can start more slowly and build on what we both need."

He glanced up. She'd been miserable, too? Whenever he'd asked about her, she'd been busy doing something with their friends, not moping over what had been lost between them.

But they had yet to resolve the main reason he'd backed away from her. "You don't even know who I am."

"I know all I need to know."

"Well, then I still need to know who I am. I've spent months trying to come to terms with what I might discover, and it still scares the shit out of me to face the past."

"Marc, finding out who your parents are or what happened when you were a little boy isn't going to change who you are today. You're a good man. A friend to so many who love you and choose to have you in their lives. A hero-you've saved lives both in Iraq and in your SAR work. Heck, you even saved me at the club and went after me on Mount Evans when you knew I was in danger." Angelina reached out once more to grasp his hand, and he made eye contact again. "And you're the only man I want to be with-ever."

Marc blinked, dumbfounded to hear she wanted him, despite how he'd fucked up so badly. Angelina was no needy doormat. She was beautiful, intelligent, and could have anyone she wanted, but she wanted him, flaws and all.

Never afraid to speak her mind or let him know when he was being an ass, she'd head slapped him more than once when he screwed up, same as Adam. Except in the middle of a D/s scene. At those times-well, except for the Mistress A one-Angelina had been beautifully submissive. He loved all facets of her.

He loved her. Period.

So how was he going to unfuck this?

"Why don't we go over to your place and talk?"

"Is talk a euphemism for something more sexual?"

He grinned. "Well, our bodies are very expressive, as well, amore mio." What he wouldn't give to make love to her again tonight.

"I can't make myself that vulnerable to you, Marc. Talk, yes. Sex, no."

Two words he didn't want to hear in conjunction with each other. No sex. He'd missed her. When they pushed all the bullshit aside, their bodies knew how to communicate with each another.

He'd better be very sure of the limits tonight, more so than in any kink scene they'd negotiated. "State your limits, pet."

She blinked in surprise before a flicker of a smile spread across her full lips. "Talking is okay. Cuddling-with clothes on. That's okay." She grew serious again. "We have so much to sort out. We haven't resolved anything since I left in February, because we haven't talked since I left. The big question is what's changed since then?"

He thought a moment. What had changed? He still had no answers. Still hadn't spoken with his parents. Hadn't found answers in talking with Pamela-only more questions. Hell, Pamela had just stirred up his insecurities about being the Dom Angelina needed and deserved.

"Savannah. What she went through. What Damian went through trying to get to her before it was too late." He squeezed her hand. "The thought of losing you terrifies me."

Angelina brushed her thumb over his knuckles. "Marc, the only threat against me is sitting in jail now and has been for half a year."

"I have a need to protect you from hurts, big and small. I worry about you."

"I don't need or want a bodyguard, Marc. There has to be more to our relationship than that."

Realization dawned slowly. "I know losing you to another attack is improbable. Instead, I've come very close to losing you forever-and for no reason other than my own inability to..." He couldn't even find the words to explain.

"Communicate?"

How ironic. He nodded his agreement. He needed to express his reasons for wanting them back together. "I am more in control when I'm with you."