I expect her to be shaken, her eyes wide with the kind of quiet panic that comes from seeing a man die. But when her gaze meets mine, it’s steady, unflinching, a soft fire burning in the depths of her eyes that catches me off guard.
She’s not afraid. She’s not recoiling. If anything, she looks at me like she sees me, all of me, and still chooses to stay. Her hands lift, moving with that graceful precision I’ve come to love, her fingers shaping a question in the air between us. Are you okay?
The signs are deliberate, her eyes searching mine, and there’s a tenderness there that makes my chest tighten, a warmth that threatens to unravel the control I’m clinging to.
I nod, my hands answering before my voice can. I’m fine, cara. Are you? My movements are steady, but my pulse is anything but.
The blood on my shirt, the ache in my knuckles, the memory of that bastard’s words, his vile disrespect. It burns in my mind.
I search her face as she nods, her hands lifting with that graceful precision I love, signing with calm certainty. It’s fine. Her fingers shape the words without hesitation.
My chest tightens, a knot of something fierce and tender twisting inside me. I sign back, my hands moving slowly, deliberately, each motion heavy with truth and fury I still feel. I’m sorry forwhat that bastard said. For his disrespect. I never want anything to hurt you.
My gaze holds hers, willing her to feel the vow in my words, the promise that I’d burn the world down before I let anyone touch her with cruelty again.
Her eyes soften, a faint smile curving her lips, and she signs again, quick and sure. It’s fine. You protected me. The words hit me like a shot, unraveling the last thread of restraint I’m clinging to. She’s not afraid. She’s not pulling away. She’s choosing me, blood and all, and the realization ignites a desire so hot it consumes me.
She’s so beautiful it hurts, every curve of her body is a quiet demand I can’t ignore. The adrenaline from the fight, the pride I felt watching her hold her own, the raw need that’s been simmering since I first touched her tonight—it all crashes together, a wave of desire so hot it burns through every shred of restraint.
But before I give in to the insanity to claim her, I say, “You should be afraid,” I say, my voice raw, gravelly. “And you’re not. That’s dangerous, Liliana.”
She looks into my eyes, her eyes never wavering as she signs, I'm not afraid of you, Giovanni. Never have. Never will.
I close the distance between us, my hands finding her waist, fingers curling into the soft fabric of her dress. Her breathcatches, a small sound that sends a jolt straight to my groin, and I pull her against me, her body warm and pliant under my touch.
My lips brush her ear, my voice low and rough. “You aren’t scared.” It’s not a question, but a realization, a confirmation of what she admitted, and it makes the heat in my blood flare brighter.
She shakes her head, her hands resting on my chest, fingers brushing the bloodstained fabric without hesitation. That small gesture, her acceptance of the violence that clings to me. The dam breaks inside me.
I want her. Now. Here. With nothing held back.
My mouth crashes into hers, the kiss fierce and hungry, my tongue sweeping past her lips to taste the sweetness of her. She meets me with the same urgency, her fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me closer like she’s just as desperate.
I groan, the sound rumbling in my chest as I press her back toward the couch, my hands roaming her hips, her waist, the curve of her ass. The dress clings to her like a second skin, and I want it gone. I want nothing between us but heat and need.
My fingers find the zipper at her back, tugging it down with a sharp pull, and the fabric loosens, sliding off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
She’s left in black lace, her breasts full and straining, her nipples visible through the thin fabric, and the sight of her makes my cock throb, hard and aching against the confines of my trousers.
I step back just enough to look at her, my breath ragged, my eyes raking over every inch of her body. She’s a vision, her skin flushed, her beautiful hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes dark with want.
I unbutton my shirt, the bloodstained fabric falling open, and her gaze drops to my chest, lingering on my tattoo. Her fingers twitch, like she wants to touch it, but I don’t give her the chance.
I shrug the shirt off, letting it fall to the floor, and kick off my shoes, my trousers following until I’m bare, my cock jutting out, thick and heavy, the tip already slick with need. Her eyes widen, but not with fear, with hunger, a mirror to the fire burning in me.
I move toward her, my hands cupping her face as I kiss her again, slower this time. I savor the way her lips yield to mine, the way her tongue dances against my own.
She moans, a soft, throaty sound that makes my blood roar, and I guide her down onto the couch, her back sinking into the plush leather. My hands slide to her bra, unhooking it with a flick, and her breasts spill free, full and perfect, her nipples tight and begging for my mouth.
I lean down, sucking one into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive peak, and she arches beneath me, her fingers tangling in my hair, pulling hard. The sharp sting sendsa pulse of heat through me, and I graze my teeth over her nipple, just enough to make her gasp, her hips bucking against me.
My hand slides down her stomach, fingers hooking into the lace of her panties, and I tug them off, tossing them aside.
She’s bare now, her pussy glistening, slick with want, and the sight of her makes my mouth water. I kneel between her thighs, spreading them wide, my hands firm on her hips as I lean in, my breath hot against her skin.
I lick a slow path up her center, tasting her, and she moans, her hips jerking under my mouth. She’s sweet, intoxicating, and I bury my face in her, my tongue circling her clit, sucking gently, then harder. Her hands fist in my hair, pulling me closer, and I groan against her, the vibration making her tremble.
I slide a finger inside her, then two, feeling her tightness, her warmth, curling them to hit that spot that makes her shake. She’s so wet, her juices coating my fingers, dripping down my hand, and I’m losing my mind, my cock throbbing with the need to be inside her.
