Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

“Bellissima,” I whisper. I rub my fingertip over the bud of her clit, skating through the slickness. As she writhes atop me, I can feel my cock swell. I shut my eyes, trying to stamp each sensation in my memory. She’s so tight and hot. I stroke her clit again, and she quivers around me.

“Luca…”

“What do you want?”

“Make me come.” Her voice wobbles. With a deft and careful fingertip, I tease her for a minute, making her arch her back and thrust her hips harder, faster. I circle again, small strokes of her clit until she’s crashing down on my cock and we’re both near screaming.

She comes first, her pleasure squeezing me, and I come so hard, I don’t even think to lift her off me. I guess it’s okay. I laugh, and she’s laughing, too. She leans down atop me, and I’m still inside her as she wraps her arms around me.19EliseIt’s funny how he’s just the same. He’s falling asleep from the moment we finish, but he wants to pull me up against his chest and hug me. I can see him struggling to keep his eyes open, trying to discern my mood as he smooths my hair back then tucks my head against his chest.

I watch with a smile as he twitches and falls asleep with one arm around me. We’re both sort of lying on our sides. His chin is tucked down to his chest, and his face is pressed near my throat. My hand skates up and down his back. If I use my fingernails, he’ll sort of shiver, murmur, and then snuggle closer to me.

I try to tell myself to keep things low-key, but with him pressed against me like this, I can’t help wrapping myself around him. My damaged boy, who’s now a gorgeous man with the most beautiful body—and, somehow, the same kind eyes.

When he stirs after a few minutes, he leans away so he can see me, and his lips are tucked into a sleepy smile. “You good?” His voice is gravelly and low.

I nod, stroking his hair. “Yeah…are you?”

He tucks his head against my throat, his cheek against my chest, and wraps me in a tight hug. He falls back asleep, his knee jerking just slightly where it’s nestled in between my thighs. I shouldn’t keep rubbing his back—I think that woke him up—so I hug him against me, close my eyes, and try to memorize this moment: all his bulky weight against me. The way he smells—like shampoo and male. His hair is so soft—that surprises me. There are a few scars on his back…in addition to that painful-looking scar on his hip.

I inhale near his hair, and his muscles twitch as if he’s dreaming. Poor Luca. I wonder if he sleeps well most nights. But he was always like this. Every time he came when we were younger, he’d be half asleep right after. I remember I longed for the day when I could hold him just like this, and we’d have time and space to be together properly. I thought that would happen at my college apartment.

The same old feeling rises up—regret, I guess it is. But it’s not as sharp-edged this time. Drinking in his big, bare body, feeling his warm skin under my arm, smelling his hair…I can’t see this man—the man they called the Blue-Eyed Devil, the Houdini Don—as anything but Luca.

I spend some time as we lie there telling myself he probably is different. But the truth is that it doesn’t matter to me. I choose this night with him no matter the circumstances. I deserve the closure. It’s not wrong for me to want to see who he became. To want to touch him again. It’s not weird that I feel like I’ve gone to heaven with his arms around me. He was my first love.

His shoulder twitches, and I try to close my eyes and relax against him. I tuck my cheek against his hair, and that’s when he shouts.

He jerks up out of my arms, eyes wide as he stares at the wall ahead, and then his hand is covering his face. I touch his back, and he jumps.

“Fuck.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, and his face transforms like he’s in shock. “Rosa.” His eyes shut as his jaw clenches.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, looking back at me. He nods just a second too long. Then he stretches out beside me again, on his back, as I reach down for blankets. I cover both of us, and he shifts onto his side, facing me, his cheek atop his raised arm.

“Sorry,” he whispers as I lie down beside him.

“Don’t be sorry.” I curve my palm around his stubble-rough cheek. “I’m sorry.”

He shuts his eyes. When he doesn’t open them right away, I take a risk and shift so I can pull him up against me. “Tesoro…”