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When it comes to her, there is no fast enough.
As soon as I’m free of the confines of my pants, dripping in anticipation, Emilia wraps her fingers around me and strokes my hardened length. Then, without hesitation, she guides me into her, spreading her legs, draping one over my hip, and drawing me in.
My knees practically buckle at the first stroke inside her quivering sheath—so tight, so greedy for me. I drive myself deep, hard enough to rattle the door, but all she does is smile and narrow her blue eyes as if accepting a challenge. “That’s right,” she whispers, running her hands over me, raking them through my hair, down my back, and dragging her nails across my ass. “Give it to me. Make me yours.”
Then her eyes close, and a deep moan fills my ears as I drive into her again and again against the door, crushing her between it and my body, claiming her with every stroke, taking what’s mine, tasting her skin when she throws back her head in abandon, lapping at her throat while she holds me close, whispering in my ear.
“Fuck me,” she rasps between sharp, strained breaths. “Fuck me hard. I’m all yours, Luca.”
Mine.
She’s mine.
There’s nothing in the world powerful enough to change that. Not my family, her job, not some hotshot football player who thinks an eight-figure contract gives him carte blanche to do and say whatever he wants. The door rattles, and her high-pitched whimpers build in volume with every sure, deep thrust until her muscles clamp down around me.
“Oh… oh, shit… I’m going to come…” Her breath catches as she clenches around me.
Hearing the words tumble from her parted lips starts the telltale tingle at the base of my spine, which quickly spreads through my core. “Come on my cock,” I grunt out, trying to hold back for her sake but losing ground. “Be my good girl.”
She opens her eyes and stares into mine, silently daring me to look away. I can’t. I won’t. I watch her through every moment of the orgasm sweeping over her all at once, the tightening of her muscles pushing me over the edge. I thrust into her, needing to be deeper, filling her while she clings to me, trembling, gasping for air in the aftermath.
I’m never as vulnerable as I am at this moment. Shaking the way she does, ears ringing, and heart pounding, this woman owns me. I would stop at nothing for her.
“I love you,” she whispers in my ear between shuddering breaths, and the words are balm for my troubled soul as we navigate the aftermath together, slumped against the door while a party rages on the other side.
5
EMILIA
I need to do something.
I’ve been here two weeks and feel no more comfortable walking along the flagstone path leading up to the main house. There’s no universe in which Dante isn’t still resentful over my presence, and I’m not about to rub that in his face. Not that I’d do so purposely, not in a million years. Though, I’m sure he sees it that way.
The look of complete disgust and cold hatred he wore while the men of the family decided my fate isn’t something I’ll ever forget.
Then again, what would I do up there that I can’t do here? There’s a gym in the basement and the in-home movie theater, but neither of those activities will fill my entire day. That’s what I need—something to fill my time.
Taking care of the house certainly isn’t enough to make my days feel full and worthwhile. It doesn’t take very long, for one thing. Having been built for Luca alone, there isn’t a lot of space as luxurious as it is. For another, Luca spends most of his time up at the house, working with his dad and brother, making sure they aren’t vulnerable and have enough manpower at their various businesses to keep things secure. He isn’t around long enough to make much of a mess.
That’s where he is now. I can picture him up there, in the study, glaring at his brother over the top of their father’s head as they both practically kill themselves, trying to earn the old man’s respect. Sibling rivalry—a tale as old as time. I hum the Disney tune to myself as I begin stripping the bed and wonder which of the sons is the beauty and which is the beast. I doubt either of them would find my observation humorous.
How does Isabella deal with the loneliness? I guess it was different for her back in the day. She had children to take care of and a big house to run. Nowadays, she still has plenty of people coming in and out, plenty to manage.
I have a few rooms to dust and vacuum, and I only do that because I see no point in having a housekeeper like Dante does in his house on the other end of the property. His time is too valuable to be wasted washing dishes.
The thought makes me roll my eyes once I’ve finished changing the sheets and throwing the dirty set in the wash along with towels. There it is—the big activity of my day. I used to work insane hours, pouring myself into research, interviews, and tracking down leads. My work was my life. I was exhausted, but I loved it.
What’s my life now? What does my future look like? I have the big picture settled. I’ll be with Luca, a thought that fills me with warmth and satisfaction. My soul recognized his the night we met, but my brain had a hard time catching up to the inevitable.
But the everyday stuff is still foggy and unfocused. Do I go back to school? Maybe, but what would I study? Will there ever come a time when I have the freedom to come and go as I please? What about marriage, a family? I want all of it. I wish I knew when to expect it or how to blend my new family with the family who believes I’m still a detective.
A sudden buzzing startles me in the otherwise silent house while I put new sheets on the bed. One glance at the screen turns my blood to ice since I was wondering how to explain any of this to my parents. It’s one thing to imagine happiness, love, and babies, but another to imagine my parents accepting my choice.
No way. I’m imagining this. It’s way too soon for her to be calling. Yet the thought of something terribly wrong with my parents, who are supposed to be in Outback Australia now and out of touch until they get home, forces me to answer the call.
“Mom?” I whisper since that’s the best I can do with my throat so tight and my mouth suddenly dry as a bone. She’s not supposed to be able to get in touch with me. This is all wrong. I’m not prepared to introduce her to my new life.
Her broken cry makes me wince, not only because it’s loud enough to make my ears ring. “Oh, thank goodness! There I was, imagining the worst! You’re all right, aren’t you? You’re not hurt or anything? You didn’t move and not tell me? What happened while we were gone?”
