I want to find the formula that makes her happy, so I can make sure she always is.
I close my mouth over her wet heat and suck, one finger pressing at her entrance, easing in just enough to feel her stretch around me, curling forward until I feel her walls begin to flutter.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
My eyes move to her face, where that adorable blush is raging, and understanding settles over me.
“Yeah, so about that,” she starts, breathless between moans, but I don’t need her to finish.
“There will never be another man touching you, Amalia.” I press my lips to her inner thigh and bite down, wanting to mark her, wanting her to feel it for days, months, fuck, years. “If you were worried about my well-being for doing business with menlike Silvio, you should be far more worried about what happens to anyone who dares to so much as think about having you like this.”
Her hips roll toward me instinctively, chasing more, and I give her exactly what she’s asking for. When she cries my name, her back arching clean off the table, I don’t stop. I work her through every last tremor until she has nothing left to give.
I keep touching her through it, even as I feel I’ll come apart if I don’t find my way inside her, because the small sounds she makes while she comes back to herself are going to be my undoing.
She pushes herself up from the table, and when her feet find the floor she sways slightly, legs unsteady beneath her. My hand finds her hip before I’ve made a conscious decision to move, fingers curling around the curve of it, pulling her close, holding her there like she belongs in that exact spot.
She does.
She rises onto her toes slightly and begins to touch me with one hand. When her eyes drop to where her hand is about to bring me to my knees a second time, she wets her lips, an endearing flush spreading across her chest.
“Harder, Amalia.” The sound of my own voice surprises even me with how low it is.
Her hand picks up the pace, slowing near the end, drawing her fingertip lightly through the moisture that gathered simply from having her in front of me.
Her eyes lift to mine, and she wets her lips again.
“Don’t do that, baby. I’m begging you.”
“Do what?” But the barely there curve of her mouth doesn’t escape me, because she knows exactly how much power she has over me right now.
That image alone is all I need. The flush on her chest, her lip caught between her teeth, her hand working me like she’sdone this a thousand times. In seconds the tension that had been coiling at the base of my spine snaps, and I come hard, one hand braced against the table, my grip on her hip tightening to the point I know I’ll leave a mark. I let myself because I’m a bastard and I want her to feel it tomorrow.
I drop my head back, trying to get oxygen to my lungs that for the last half an hour lived only on her smell. When I come back from it, I find her looking at me with awe, and I don’t grasp how I lived until I met her. My life was a black and white sequence of scenes until she came around and made me see colors.
“You have a strange look on your face,” she tells me, slightly shy, trying to cover herself.
Oh, baby, you have no idea!
I want to tell her how she has my heart in a damn grip, how I get this ache whenever she’s away from me, how I count the seconds until I’ll get to see her again. But I’m afraid I’ll scare her, so I settle for kissing her and hoping my lips tell her what my voice fails to.
Amalia left an hour ago, and I find myself in the boxing ring with Andreas.
“Fuck, Si. Forbidden romance suits you, brother.”
“Fuck you.” My fist connects with his face, making him laugh.
“The tension! The yearning! I vote for Amalia to just stay glued to you twenty-four seven.”
I vote that too.
I don’t like her going home each night, but asking her to stay might scare her off.
Why isn’t it scaring me?
My best friend knocks the air out of my lungs with a right hook that I should have seen coming, and I take two steps back, hitting the ropes. He follows up immediately, not giving me thechance to recover, landing two more blows to my ribs before I manage to get my arms up. I duck under the next swing, drive my shoulder into his chest and push him back to center, and we circle each other for a moment, both breathing hard.
His phone starts ringing, and when he checks what’s going on, his face pales.
