“You feel so fucking amazing,” he whispers, kissing my neck, my ear. He doesn’t move, waiting for me to adjust, so I force myself to relax.
“Keep going,” I whisper. “I’m ready.”
He pushes in a few more times, slow and deep, and my whole body rebels, as if we’re the wrong ends of magnets being forced together, and at the last second, I just can’t. The pain is still there, and oh god, the sensation fills me with paralyzing terror and dread, and tears begin to pour from my eyes.
“Eliza,” King says, sounding alarmed. He stops moving, using his hands to smooth back my hair. “You didn’t tell me to stop.”
“It’s fine,” I say, gripping his shoulders, wrapping my legs around him. “Just finish.”
“You’re crying.”
He says the words gently as he rolls away, as if that’s all the reason anyone needs to stop, as if what my body is showing is more important than what my mouth is saying. His strong, long arms wrap around me, and he holds me against him, and I can feel the hard, wet ridge of his cock pressing into my belly, and it makes me cry harder because I can’t satisfy it. I want to scream and scream and scream until I can’t breathe and can’t speak and can’t feel anything. He stopped and I’m so angry at myself because I’m just. So. Broken.
But he just holds me and doesn’t say anything. Not about how hard it must have been to stop, or how once again he wasn’t satisfied, or that his wife failed him yet again. He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead while shame and fury pour from my eyes. I know I’m safe. That’s the worst part. I know I am, but my body still reacts like I’m not, and I don’t know how to fix that.
At last, my tears run dry, but I can’t look up at King. This feels like the worst failure yet, confirmation of my worst fears—that I can’t have sex.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper at last.
King takes my tearstained face in his hands, raising it to his. He kisses my salty cheeks, my puffy eyes, my red nose. “No, I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have known.”
“What are we going to do?” I ask, clinging to him with all the desperation I feel. I’ve never told anyone the things I’ve told him, my deepest darkest secrets. Now I feel like those secrets are pushing us apart, that they’ll continue to grow between us until there’s no way back to each other. Maybe telling him was a huge mistake, and I never should have opened up to him. I know one thing for sure. If he leaves me, I’ll never tell another soul, never let them destroy another relationship.
“I don’t know,” King admits. “But we’ll get through it. I promise.”
I nod, another tear slipping from my lashes. I want to ask how he can promise that, how he can know. How we can get through it. But it’s my burden to bear.
“Maybe you can talk to someone,” he says. “A therapist or someone who specializes in this type of thing.”
“I can’t see a therapist,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m bound by the code of silence just as much as you are.”
“You don’t have to tell her about the mafia stuff,” he says. “My mom’s been seeing one for years, and she’s Al Valenti’s niece. She doesn’t talk about certain things, but for personal problems… It’s New York, Eliza. Even therapists have therapists.”
I try to smile at his attempt at lightheartedness, but when I think about telling a stranger the things I’ve told King, my heart nearly stops.
“I’ll think about it,” I say, but I already know I won’t. A niece is far removed from the don of a mafia family. I’m a don’s daughter. I’d be terrified of someone thinking I’d rat him out, not to mention I’m now tied to the Valenti family, and they’d be the first to blame me if something got leaked. After all, they already blamed my family when the Lucianis attacked.
“Speaking of talking,” I say, toying with the dark hair at the nape of King’s neck. “I don’t want any secrets between us. I know you think you’re protecting me by not talking about work, but I want to know. I can help, remember?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But not with this.”
“What is it?” I ask, searching his eyes. “You can trust me, King. I’m not just sworn to silence. I’m sworn to you. I can tell something’s been on your mind since you confronted the Lucianis. Tell me.”
He sighs and rolls onto his back. “I killed him,” he says. “Yeah, we were all there, and no one knows it was me except our fixer, but… I’m the one who pulled the trigger. He’s not just anyone, Eliza. He was their boss. What if someone finds out it was me and comes after you?”
I shake my head. “The bastard who took his place is probably blessing you in his prayers every night. These guys are ruthless. They’re just happy they got a promotion.”
“I didn’t even think about it,” King says. “I just did it. It was like it was nothing. Il Diavolo had Bianca, and I wanted to get her away from him, and her father was just something in the way, like a door you push through to get somewhere. It’s like I forgot he was a person.”
I shiver. “You were with Il Diavolo?”
“You know him?” King asks, drawing back to look down at me.
“I know of him,” I say. “He’s gotten a few of our men to talk before, and they paid.”
He frowns and looks back at the ceiling. “Have you heard from Bianca?”
I snort. “She almost got you killed. I think our friendship is officially over.”