He looks at me as if he wants to remember me, like he’s painting a portrait in his mind he’ll hang where he can worship it every day. His mouth softens when his gaze slides down my body to my curves. “Damn, woman,” he growls. “You’re fucking amazing. Say my name, Vivia. I love it when you say my name.” His gaze bores into mine in expectation, and my heart jolts. A tingling warmth spreads to every part of me until my nerves are fire.
“Dario,” I whisper.
“Good girl,” he approves. His voice takes on a harder edge, as if he knows he has to do a job but wants this over with. “Have you told me everything?”
“Everything I know,” I tell him with utter sincerity. “I met Gray on vacation. He seduced and used me. I was naïve and stupid and I slept with him, but I used him right back because I wanted control over my life.” My voice trembles. “I would never hurt my family, Dario. Never. I love Marialena, and hate that Gray tried to hurt her.” I swallow, my voice shaky with emotion. “And I’ll do everything I can to help you find who did try to hurt her.”
He stares into my eyes, reading me, then after a long moment, nods. “I believe you,” he says. He doesn’t apologize for interrogating me or bringing me here, and I know why. He was following orders. He’s bound by oaths to obey Romeo and the others in authority over him.
He may not apologize, but he’s going to make this better.
“You like it when I praise you, don’t you?” he asks curiously, as he adjusts me so he can reach between my legs. My hips jerk upward involuntarily. I need him to touch me. I’m craving his touch so badly I want to cry.
“Yes,” I whisper. It’s true. Butterflies erupt in my stomach when he says anything to praise me. His words of adulation and approval make me warm from the tip of my head to my toes. I’d give him anything in that moment. The truth. My pride.
My heart.
It might prove to be my fatal flaw, but I’ll die happy.
I don’t care if he means it. I don’t care if he doesn’t. I’m so starved for his affection and praise it’s almost alarming to me. I’ve never had anything like this before and I’m not sure I’ll ever have anything like it again. The precariousness of my situation is scary when I think about it, but I don’t want to think about it.
I want him to touch my breasts again. I want him to make me climax. I want to feel him inside me, stretching me so full he takes my breath away. I want to see him in the throes of ecstasy when he empties himself inside me.
I want it all.
I know he’s going to kiss me right before he does. Hope and fear hold me captive. And when he finally does… when his lips meet mine… I finally taste him.
You wouldn’t know by looking at a hardened criminal and veteran like Dario that he is capable of such tenderness. His lips are scorching, the touch of his hand on the back of my head so fierce I lose my breath. Our tongues tangle before I lick his lips. He tastes like fire and need and warmth, and I want to taste more of him.
He stands suddenly, taking me bodily in his arms without breaking the kiss. His teeth graze my lips, and when I moan, he devours my mouth as if he’s starving. His grip on my body tightens, his arm around my back and at the fold of my legs, but all I feel is his mouth, his tongue, his teeth, and the low moan of approval he gives when my tongue licks his.
I don’t know how we make it to the bedroom, but the pillow is under my head and the bed sags with his weight on me. His fingers are tangled in my hair sending frissons of arousal through every nerve like sparks of fire. I’m vaguely aware of a deep, lingering pain where he spanked me, the heaviness of my breasts, the liquid fire between my legs as he moves his fingers from my hair and captures my wrists. I want to touch him, to hold him, to anchor myself to him, but I’m pinned to the bed under his weight and grip. The loss of control and reminder of his strength only feeds my growing need.
With his mouth still on mine, both my wrists pinned above my head with one hand, he lowers his other hand between my legs and parts them. I shiver in expectation, so eager I can’t breathe. The first feel of his hand between my legs makes me spasm. The second and I lose my ability to speak. The third, and my body erupts in flames. My hips jerk and ecstasy claims me. I’m grateful no one can hear my scream because I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to. I ride his fingers and lick his tongue, the only thanks I can give for the bliss he’s giving me. My body explodes in a sudden torrent of fire, and when I finally breathe again, I gasp deep, soul-quenching breaths of air. I shatter into a million little shards as ecstasy claims me.
I gasp as I slide down from my pinnacle, the sweet agony like nothing I’ve ever felt before. He releases my wrists so he can hold me, and to my surprise my cheeks are wet.
“I—holy—mother of—what was that?”
“Beautiful girl,” he says with a chuckle, as I bask in the warmth of my post-orgasmic climax. “You climaxed. Your reward for telling me the truth. Don’t tell me you’ve never climaxed before?”
“I—that—”
Apparently talking in complete sentences is out of the question.
I close my eyes and drop my arm across my forehead, incapable of movement for long moments. He slides off of me and rests beside me. I can feel his warmth radiating like fire. “That was a… climax… the same way the little… stream… behind my… house… is the Hudson River.”
I close my eyes.
I love the sound of his laugh. “Lie still, Vivia,” he commands. He could tell me to walk a tightrope over the Grand Canyon and I’d nod and say “yes, sir.” So I lie as still as I can which is pretty easy because I’m confident I’m actually paralyzed. “I want to drink you in with my eyes, lovely.”
I close my eyes and let him do just that, still numbed from ecstasy.
I’m not sure what’s happened. I’m not sure what will happen next. But sometimes, living in the present is the very best choice one can make.
* * *