Caleb’s eyes meet mine over her shoulder, dark with desire.
His hand joins mine between her legs, our fingers working together to bring her pleasure.
“She’s close,” he says, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
I feel it too—the way her body tightens around me, the quickening of her breath.
My release builds, a pressure at the base of my spine threatening to explode.
“Come with us, piccola,” I tell her. “We’re all going to come together.”
“Oh my God.” Her body tightens around us both as she cries out.
Her orgasm triggering ours and the three of us come together, our bodies locked like we belong with each other.
Slowly, I pull out of Amara and she winces slightly as I do. Her body is limp when I lift her carefully off Caleb’s chest, cradling her against me like she’s made of glass.
Her skin is flushed, a thin sheen of sweat making her glow in the afternoon light filtering through the blinds.
“Are you okay, piccola?” I whisper, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead.
She nods weakly, her eyes heavy-lidded.
“Better than okay,” she murmurs.
I carry her to the bathroom, Caleb following close behind. He turns on the shower, adjusting the temperature while I hold her against my chest.
“Let me take care of you,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You were perfect for us.”
The steam fills the room as Caleb tests the water with his hand. “It’s ready,” he says.
I step into the shower with Amara still in my arms, letting the warm water cascade over us both. She sighs contentedly as I gently set her on her feet, keeping my arms around her waist to steady her.
Caleb joins us, grabbing the soap and working it into a lather between his hands. Together, we wash her body, our hands gentle as they move across her skin. I’m careful around her more sensitive areas, noting the slight wince when I touch between her legs.
“Sore?” I ask.
She nods, her eyelids heavy. “Worth it, though.”
My phone rings from the bedroom, the sound barely audible over the running water. I ignore it, focusing on Amara’s needs first. But it rings again, insistent.
“You should get that,” she says. “It might be important.”
I hesitate, reluctant to leave her.
“Go,” Caleb says. “I’ve got her.”
I look at him, at the way he holds Amara with such care, and I nod. “I’ll be right back.”
I step out of the shower, quickly drying myself with a towel before wrapping it around my waist. The phone continues to ring as I walk into the bedroom and grab my phone, looking at the caller.
Unknown. I assume it’s Antonio Conti. I told him we needed to discuss Mateo’s behavior. This better be important.
“De Luca,” I answer.
But it’s not Antonio. It’s Detective Ingram, the woman who informed us about Helena’s death.
“Mr. de Luca, we have some news regarding Helena Bailey’s case,” she says, her voice professional but with an edge I can’t quite place. “Can I come to your home to discuss it with you?”
