Bloodied Hands (Bellandi Crime Syndicate 1)

Scaring me.

I was totally and completely trapped, surrounded by him. That was not something that I could handle. Not with him. Not with anyone.

My whimper seemed to fuel him on, his hand leaving my face to drift down my body in a slow, smooth caress that lit my nerve endings on fire. I'd thought they'd died a long time ago, but they flared to life with the subtlest touch from Matteo, even while I fought to maintain my sanity.

It was Matteo.

Not a stranger.

While I convinced myself of the fact that I was safe enough and would walk away from whatever happened, Matteo groaned into my mouth. I realized at some point I'd started kissing him back. He pulled back enough to nibble at my bottom lip, and I moaned although I'd hated myself as soon as the sound left me. His hand slid around from my waist to my back, tugging me tighter to his body and then he slid it down and over my ass. My hips wiggled against him shamefully, and he squeezed the mound. Then he hoisted me up with one arm under my butt, setting me on the console table that I wasn't sure could support my weight.

His lips fused to mine again, expert strokes of his tongue against mine as he shoved my thighs apart and inserted his hips between them. With all of him pressed against me, it was impossible to miss the bulge in his pants as he ground it against me. His hands ran over the bare skin of my thighs as he shoved the dress up my legs and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong. When he moved to tug it down, I jerked back from him. My head smacked against the wall, but I didn't care as concern crossed his features. I shoved him away with two hands at his chest.

"Get off me," I protested, and his hands left my legs. His expression was torn as he stared at me, and I could see him trying to work out the kinks of how to get wh

at he wanted. "You need to leave. Now." He stepped back just enough that I could hop off the table and shove my dress back down my thighs. "This isn't happening."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before he nodded. "You're right. It's too soon." I knew my face must have morphed into one of shock. "I lost control. I miss you, Angel," he pressed one last soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, before turning and striding for the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

He opened the door, closing it behind him and was gone. I hurried over to lock it, breathing a sigh of relief when there was something separating us. My back hit the door when I spun around and panted in a miniature panic attack.

Because what in the fuck was wrong with me?

Nine

Ivory

I woke up slowly, feeling so warm. Usually, I woke up cold. For years, I'd tossed and turned so much during the night that I would either wake up being suffocated by my blanket or freezing and the blanket on the floor. There was a definite weight pressing into me, but it was a comfortable one rather than the strangulation of being tangled in a comforter.

A sigh of contentment reached my ears, and I was still half-asleep enough that I had to consider if I'd been the one to make it. Snapping my eyes open suddenly, I panicked and tried to squirm out from whatever, whoever, laid on top of me.

In my bed.

When I'd most definitely gone to bed alone, after getting reacquainted with a certain battery-operated friend in my nightstand drawer.

"Angel, Angel," Matteo soothed me, holding me underneath him tighter as I struggled. I calmed minutely, freezing in place when I realized that my ass was rubbing against his groin, his very hard groin, in my inability to get out from under him. "Shh," he purred, taking my chin in his hand and turning my head back at an uncomfortable angle so he could see me. His lips came down on mine, soft and soothing even as my panic renewed.

"What are you doing in my bed?" I hissed, jerking away from his hold, and finally squirming out from under him. Judging from the position, he'd been lying on his stomach and covering my left side with his body, his leg cocked over both of mine.

"I don't like to wake up without you." He shrugged, watching me as I tugged the comforter up to cover my breasts. I wasn't naked, thankfully, but the tank and shorts I slept in with nothing underneath left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"So you broke into my house and crawled into bed with me while I was sleeping?!"

He smirked at me, the fucking bastard. "Well, I couldn't very well climb in while you were awake, now could I?"

"You—I," I stumbled, lost for words. There was no remorse on his face, absolutely nothing to show he felt guilty for invading my privacy and doing god only knows what to my body while I slept. "You had no right."

"I have every right," he said, shocking me so much that my mouth snapped closed. "You're mine. You should get used to spending the nights together, Angel." My eyes drifted down to his chest, realizing he was shirtless for the first time once my panic had abated a bit. As much as he'd terrified me, as much as I wanted to hurt him for violating my bed, I didn't fear Matteo. I couldn't muster up any fear that he might hurt me physically, no matter how stupid that might have been. He'd always made me feel safe, like being within his arms was the only place in the world where nothing could hurt me.

My eyes didn't know where to settle as they darted around. His shoulders were broad, sculpted with biceps that must have been as thick as my thigh. His pecs were perfectly formed, and even sitting the muscles of an impossibly defined eight pack stood out and tempted me to lick every ridge. The tattoo on his chest caught my eye, a quote I recognized from Aristotle referencing the night following the light of day. When my eyes darted back up to his face, I knew he hadn't missed my reaction to seeing him. He stood from the bed, revealing thick thighs corded in muscle. Only a pair of black boxer briefs covered him, and they barely contained the fucking anaconda of an erection I remembered all too well. I swallowed with nerves as he leaned over me in the bed.

His face gentled, and he cupped my jaw and stared down at me in that intense way of his. "This is happening, Angel." His lips touched mine briefly, and then he turned and swaggered his way into my en suite bathroom.

I sat there, disoriented and freaking out for a minute. When the shower started up, I was up and fleeing my bedroom in case he decided he wanted company. I didn't dare change my clothes for fear of the creep appearing the moment I was naked, so I snagged my huge, baggy sweater that I curled up in when I read. Shoving my arms in, I fled down the stairs, only coming to a halt when I found two men sitting and drinking coffee at the island. I stumbled back a step, preparing to flee out the front door when they spun and saw me standing there.

"Miss Torres," one said, setting his mug down. "Is everything all right?" I stared at him, slight relief crashing through me when I realized he was the man Matteo had said was his security the night before. He stood, approaching me like I was a wounded animal. "Has something happened to Mr. Bellandi?" he asked, and I shook my head frantically.

"In the shower," I mumbled, not acknowledging his other question. What kind of question was that, anyway? How could things be all right with three men I didn't know in my home? I glanced down at my mostly bare legs, feeling suddenly exposed, but neither man's gaze ever drifted away from my face. "What are you doing in my house?"