Bound by Honor (Born in Blood Mafia Chronicles 1)

I licked my lips. “Luca?”

He started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing small cuts and a longer wound below his ribs. His skin was covered with blood. But it couldn’t all have come from him, especially not all the blood on the shirt. It worried me that he still hadn’t spoke. He shed his shirt and dropped it on the ground. Then he unbuckled his belt.

“Luca,” I said. “You are scaring me. What happened?”

He pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. He was barefoot and now only in his briefs as he knelt on the bed and brought one knee between my legs. I began to regret wearing only a nightgown. He slowly moved up until his head hovered over me. Terror gripped my throat, turned my heartbeat into a flutter.

His eyes made me want to bolt, to cry and scream, to escape. Instead I lifted my hand and cupped his cheek. His expression shifted, a chink in the monstrous mask. He leaned into the touch, then he lowered his face and pressed it into the crook of my neck. He breathed in deeply and didn’t move for a long time. I tried not to panic. My hand was shaking against his cheek.

“Luca?” I said softly.

He raised his head again. I could see a flicker of the Luca I knew. He slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. When he was out of sight, I let out a deep breath. Whatever had gone down today must have been horrible. I sat up as I listened to the running shower. In what kind of mood would Luca return into the bedroom? The monster in check, or almost unleashed like a moment ago?

The water stopped and I quickly lay down on my side of the bed and pulled the covers up. A few minutes later, the door opened and Luca walked in with a towel around his waist. It was white, but a few droplets of blood had dripped from his wound and stained the fabric. He didn’t walk toward the cupboard to grab boxer shorts as he usually did, instead he came directly toward the bed. When he reached for the towel, I averted my eyes and turned on my other side, my back toward him. He lifted the blanket and the mattress shifted under his weight. He pressed up against me, his hand curled over my hip in an almost bruising grip before he turned me toward him.

My mind screamed at me to stop him. He was completely naked and in a scary mood. He’d spent the day picking up the pieces of one of his men and the remaining day killing his enemies. He grabbed the hem of my nightgown and began pulling it up. I put my hand over his.

“Luca,” I whispered.

His eyes met mine. I relaxed slightly. There was still darkness in them but it was more contained. “I want to feel your body against mine tonight. I want to hold you.”

I could almost hear the unspoken words: I need you. I swallowed. “Only hold me?”

“I swear,” his voice was gruff as if he’d spent hours screaming orders.

I lowered my hand and let him pull my nightgown off. He released a low breath as he gazed at my naked breasts. I had to fight the urge to cover myself. His fingertips brushed the hem of my panties but when I tensed they retreated and he rolled onto his back and lifted me on top of him. I straddled his stomach, my knees on either side of him, my breasts pressed against his chest. I tried to keep my weight off him because I didn’t want to hurt his wounds, but he wrapped one arm around my back and pressed me tightly against him. His other hand touched my butt, making me jump. He began moving his thumb across my lower back and butt, and I relaxed slowly. The entire time his eyes were boring into mine and with every passing moment a tiny bit more of the darkness dissipated.

“Doesn’t your cut need stitches?”

He bent forward and kissed me sweetly. “Tomorrow.” He kept stroking my butt and kissing me slowly as if he wanted to savor every moment. I was completely overwhelmed but it felt good. I loved that he was suddenly so gentle. If he was like that when we were intimate for the first time, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. My eyelids felt heavy but I couldn’t look away from Luca. I touched his throat, an inch below the cut. I wasn’t sure why but I leaned forward and pressed a feather-light kiss against the wound. It was small and wouldn’t need stitches, not like the one below his ribs. When I drew back, Luca looked almost surprised. His hand on my butt moved lower, cupping my ass cheek. His little finger was almost touching me there. He squeezed my cheek and for a moment his finger brushed my opening through the fabric.

I sucked in a breath, shocked by the jolt the small touch had sent through me. Heat gathered between my legs and I could feel myself getting wet. I squirmed in embarrassment, not wanting Luca to realize that a bare brush and his stroking of my butt had caused such a reaction. Maybe I wasn’t experienced but I’d been imagining certain things, had caressed myself on many nights. It wasn’t that I was frigid. Luca’s body turned me on. Maybe I wanted love, but my body wanted something else. The feeling of Luca’s strong chest and muscled stomach under me, his gentle kisses, his soft touch, they made me want something more, even if my mind told me it was a bad idea.

Luca’s eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied me, like I was a difficult equation he wanted to figure out. Then he lightly graced the crotch of my panties with his fingertips and I knew he could feel it. I could feel that the thin fabric was soaked. My cheeks flamed in mortification and I lowered my eyes but I couldn’t bring myself to slide off him or even close my legs. His fingertips against my core felt good even if they’d stopped moving.