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“Do you love her still?”
Horror fills his face, and I have my answer before he says a word. “No. I don’t. I never did. Our marriage wasn’t about love. It was a business arrangement. Something that benefited us both. That’s all. I never felt once for her what I felt the first moment I laid eyes on you. There is no one else.”
Overwhelmed, I lean in for a quick kiss, but as usual with us, it turns into something more. Michael buries his hand in my hair to maneuver my head just how he likes it to deepen the kiss. Michael pulls me onto his lap to straddle his hips without breaking our kiss. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, his cock hard against my core, and I rock against it, both of us moaning at the contact.
Michael pulls back, his smile instant and predatory when he sees how much his kiss affects me. His eyes hold mine, and like a bee drawn to honey, I’m transported back to that night all those months ago when I locked eyes with a gorgeous man who whispered sweet temptations in my ear and showed me heaven with every touch.
“I want to strip you naked, lay you out on this bed, and feast on your body until it’s fucking clear to everyone who you belong to.” His whispered words are hot against my ear, and I shudder at the heat. “Who I belong to.”
“So do it,” I encourage him, completely lost in the moment.
He nibbles kisses down my neck, caressing the abused flesh afterward with his warm tongue that leaves me shivering in his arms at the sensation.
“You taste even better than I remember,” he says, finding that soft spot behind my ear and kissing the space there.
“More, Michael. Please. I need more,” I beg, digging my fingers into his back. The bite of my nails has him doubling down until I know I will have a mark behind my ear tomorrow morning. “You did promise we would revisit this when you got back.”
Michael raises his face and studies my expression. We’ve teased this line twice now, and I’m hoping the third time is the charm, but I see the question in his eyes. The worry. The concern that I may regret going further than kissing like a pair of horny teenagers who only know how to dry hump.
“What are you asking, Rose? I need to hear you say it.”
“Touch me, Michael. I need you to touch me and remind me how good this can feel. Please.” Because while I know the man is dead andit’s Michael holding me, that bastard lingers still. I want…no, I need Michael to erase every inch of that man from my skin and my soul.
I rock against his steel-like rod and enjoy the hiss that slips from his mouth. He leans in and bites the space where my neck and collarbone meet. I cry out, and he takes advantage, capturing my lips and swallowing the last bit of the air from my lungs. He shoves his tongue inside, and mine meets his with the same level of passion.
“Lie down, Rose,” he orders.
I do as he says and smile up at him when he cages me in. His eyes are wary, like he’s still uncertain. I reach up and cup his face. “I want this. I’m telling you it’s okay.”
“If at any point it’s too much, you tell me.”
I won’t need a safe word because I don’t plan on stopping. When I nod, he blinks, and all concern washes away. Michael makes quick work of my sweatpants, his eyes darkening when he remembers I have no underwear.
“Holy fuck, Rose. You’re gorgeous. This makes me want to tell Gabriella to fuck off on buying you clothes. You should be naked in my bed, in my house all day, every day.”
Unrealistic, but damn, he paints a pretty picture that I’m tempted to say yes to.
The heat of his breath on my bare pussy sets every one of my nerve endings on fire. I have ached for his touch for so long, dreamed of it for so long, but having him between my legs now is better than I remembered or imagined. He runs his tongue up the length of my pussy before his lips cover the sensitive bundle of nerves like a suction cup. I moan, arching up off the bed, as he slips one finger, then two inside me.
“Fuck me,” he growls, his voice muffled. “I missed this. Missed you. Missed this magic pussy that is still so tight after having my baby. It's perfect. You're perfect.”
If I had the breath in me to laugh, I would have, but every lick of his tongue, every thrust of his finger, steals every ounce of breath I have left in my lungs and narrows my mind until it’s only focused on Michael and his touch, driving away the fear that haunts me. White heat gathers at the base of my spine. My muscles contract, building until the dam finally breaks, and the orgasm crashes over me like a wave, washing away all the darkness of that man until it’s only Michael and me left behind in its wake.
23
Michael
Earlier that same evening
When we enter our family home, piano music greets us. I poke my head into the sitting room. The world outside is dark, and the mood in the room matches it. Mom sits at the grand piano with her back to us. Her hands fly across the keys as the familiar sounds of “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven fill the air. A somber melody I’ve heard her play for as long as I can remember. A melody she only plays when her heart and soul are heavy.
Raphael and I exchange a knowing glance. Whatever’s bothering Mom is undoubtedly linked to our father. It almost always is. Mom loves our father deeply and without reserve, but the life of a Mafia don’s wife is not always sunshine and rainbows. It’s often exhausting to carry the burden of her husband’s decisions, even when she doesn’t agree with them herself.
The mood in Dad’s office isn’t much better.
He stands at the dark window with his back to us. Uncle Leo sits in his usual spot, his fingers tapping against the glass of whiskey he nurses, his gaze far off like he’s deep in thought. I’m surprised to see Dominic here. I thought he went home after dropping Liam off. Judging by the grimace on his face and the extra tall coffee cup in his hands, he thought so, too.
After what seems like an eternity, Dad finally turns away from the window and sinks into his chair. His gaze finds mine. “I heard from Dr. Gonzalez. I’m assuming he called you too?”
