Code of Honor (Spontagio Family 1)

“Oh God, I can’t handle it.” She groans, her back arching off the sheets. I go deeper, pushing my way inside her as she invades my senses in every way.

Her legs tremble as her grip on my head tightens and she tries to bring me closer to her. She’s close to climaxing, I can feel it. Her body tenses as my tongue moves in and out, her soft breaths urging me on. She cries out, clutching at the sheets as she grinds my face into her.

“Oh wow, I can’t even speak,” she whispers. Her cheeks glow as I slither up her body until my mouth is on hers. We lay there tangled in each other’s arms, exhausted and content. As tired as I am, she’s so beautiful that just thinking about her gets me hard.

“Am I the woman you were talking about?”

“Pardon?” Her question catches me off guard. I’m about to lie, but then I realize there’s no point in denying it. Not after the last twenty-four hours. She isn’t stupid.

“The woman you are”—she pauses—“you were in love with.”

“Yes,” I say simply. I watch as her eyes grow deeper as she tries to process what I’m saying.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” she finally asks.

“Because I didn’t think there was a chance. I didn’t want just a quick fling with you, Luce. I wanted all of you. I was smart enough to realize that wasn’t possible.”

“Because of my father?” she persists. “That’s hardly fair. My father doesn’t determine my life, believe it or not. I am capable of making my own decisions.”

“I know you are,” I soothe, running my fingers through her hair. I take a different approach. “I owe your father my life. When I came to America, he treated me like his own son. He trusts me. I’m the only person he trusts with you. How could I betray that by being with you?”

She grows quiet, her body stiffening in my embrace.

“Has anything changed now?” she asks.

“Everything has changed.”

“Except nothing is different,” she retorts, sitting up. Her dark eyes flash as she glares at me. “Admit it, Pietro. The last few days make no difference, do they? How I feel, it doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not that easy—”

“Of course it is!” she cries, running a hand through her hair. “It’s as easy as you want it to be.” She sighs, getting out of the bed. “I have to get up for training soon and I’m sure you have a plane to catch. I’m going to take a shower.

Maybe you should go sleep in the spare bedroom.”

She rolls over, making it clear that our conversation is over. I’m such an idiot. I have the one thing I’ve always wanted and I screwed it up. I don’t deserve her.

I crawl out of the bed, throw on my pants, and gather the rest of my things in my hands. I walk the short distance down the hallway to the spare bedroom, dumping my clothes on the bed. I walk over to the window and open it—the sudden need for fresh air is overwhelming.

She wants me just as much as I want her, so why am I making this so hard?

The fear of rejection has always been there, and I have used her father as an excuse in the past for not going there. What do I value more, a potential relationship with the woman I have been in love with for eight years or the respect from a man who has been like a father to me?

Stripping off my pants, I climb between the stiff sheets and close my eyes. I’m exhausted, but I don’t expect to sleep. I have too much going on in my head, even more than usual. All I can hear are the sounds of sirens and traffic out on the street. I listen for any hint that she might still be awake, but hear nothing.

What she’s thinking? Have I messed everything up?

Of course I have. It’s what I do best.

—

Sighing, I pick up my phone for the hundredth time. It’s just past five a.m. The morning sun is just beginning to break through the clouds. She will be up soon. What I need is to be gone before she gets up. I get dressed and then quickly make the bed before packing my suitcase.

I ease open the door, careful not to make a sound. The floorboards creak as I make my way to the front door; every sound making my heart skip a beat. Only when I’m outside, do I breathe.

The walk back to my apartment is short. I dump my bag in my bedroom, and then quickly change into my running gear. It’s probably the only time I’ll be able to get in a run without having to worry about her seeing me. If she does, I can explain it away by saying my flight was delayed.

The cool morning air hits my face as I jog over to Washington Square Park. Apparently the park is a popular place to run. Men, women, and people with dogs jog around the park, each lost in their own thoughts. Me, I’m running to forget. I run because when I do I focus on only that. It’s the only time in my life when nothing else matters.