Because Remo would kill me.
She sucked in her breath a few times. I knew I needed to be more careful, to go slower but I couldn’t stop. It felt like our time was running through our fingers and I needed to make every moment count. She made me betray Remo, something I’d never considered before, she made me break my oath of putting the Camorra first.
Was she worth it?
As our sweat covered bodies moved against each other, as her tightness squeezed down on me, as her eyes hung onto mine with trust and something stronger and more dangerous, I decided she was worth it. I wasn’t sure how it had come to this. How could I have let it come so far? How could she still look at me with those fucking caring eyes after everything? She was messed up, and so was I.
I held her tightly as I came inside her. She gasped again, her breathing labored, cheeks flushed. She blinked at me slowly as if she was dazed and only just waking from a dream. Her lips brushed mine softly, and I could tell from the look in her eyes that she was about to say words I couldn’t say back. Words she shouldn’t even consider saying, not after what I’d done, not after what she knew about me, not when I was a dead man walking. No words would change that. Nothing could. “Don’t say anything,” I whispered harshly, and she listened. I rolled us over and pulled her against me. She winced but then pressed up against me. Her body against mine felt like it was supposed to be like that. But I knew it might be the only time I could hold her like that.
I woke to Fabiano’s fingers tracing my spine. The touch was gentle, almost reverent.
I peered over my shoulder. He was propped up on his arm and followed the movement of his hand on my back. Hands that could kill without remorse, hands that were inexplicably gentle to me. His gaze found me and I rolled over. Neither of us said anything. I kissed him.
I was sore from last night but I wouldn’t let that stop me, not only because he looked like he needed this more than air but also because I needed him. Last night, Fabiano, above me, in me, I’d felt like things had fallen into place. I’d never had a place to call home, but with him I felt anchored.
Things were complicated between us, they couldn’t be anything else, given our pasts and lives, but I knew no matter what he was, nobody would ever make me feel more cared for than he did. We were twisted and broken and fucked up. Both of us. Why had I ever thought I could be with someone straight-laced, someone with a normal past? That kind of man would never get me, not the same way Fabiano did. Reaching for his neck, I pulled him toward me. He didn’t resist. Our lips glided over each other as he reached between us, found my opening to test my readiness. He shifted and his tip pressed against me. My fingers on his neck tightened as he claimed me with a slow push. My walls quivered in a mix of pain and pleasure. I exhaled sharply. He moved slowly, gently. Last night had been despair and possessiveness, and perhaps even fear and anger. This was different. It felt like…lovemaking. In a twisted way. Perhaps twisted was all I’d ever get.
His mouth found mine as his chest rubbed over my breasts. I moaned as he hit a spot deep within, lifted my butt, needing more. His fingers slipped between my legs, finding my bundle of nerves and began their soft play. I gasped against his lips, and his tongue slipped in, meeting mine for a slow dance. My toes curled and my fingers scratched over the linen as he sped up. Sparks of pleasure traveled from my core into every nerve ending.
I cried out, my hips bucking, and Fabiano pushed hard into me as he too lost control. We gasped, shook against each other. Too many sensations, too many feelings. For a moment he didn’t move, his hot mouth against my throat, then he rolled over and pulled me with him so my cheek rested against his chest. As if he was trying to hide his face from me.
Our breathing was ragged.
“My sister gave it to me,” he said. His words dragged me back to reality.
I followed his gaze toward the bracelet dangling around my wrist. I twisted my head to catch a glimpse at his expression but he tightened his hold.
“Your sister?”
“Aria, my oldest sister. Last time I saw her, she gave it to me.”
That his sister had given it to him made it somehow even more precious. “When you were younger?”