AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I wanted more, too, so I ramped things up a bit by sliding my lips to his neck and suckling the skin there. He groaned deep in his throat, and I removed his suit jacket and began to touch him, stroking along the flawless lines of his chest, massaging his back and shoulders, then tracing the muscles of his strong biceps through his shirt.
This made Luca release the brakes, and his hands flew over me, pulling my sweater over my head to reach my bare skin. I needed him bare, as well, so I unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off him as fast as I could. From there, things grew more impassioned, and he stood and stripped completely, yanking me to my feet. Within seconds my clothes were also gone, and I relished the feeling of all his skin against all of mine.
I relished it even more when he dragged me down to the sofa, his body over me, his face a picture of heat and desire as he took me enthusiastically to the lands of endless bliss.
After he’d taken me there a second time, we laid together, our bodies damp with perspiration and pleasingly sated. I decided I never wanted to get up again, never wanted to leave that sofa. It’d been such a lovely experience, better than any I’d had previous, and I wanted to make the memory last forever.
As I relaxed against Luca, just on the edge of drifting off to sleep, it occurred to me that I felt happy. Though being here with him had come about in one the worst ways possible, I felt good doing what I was doing. I felt like with him at my side, I could do anything, accomplish any goal I set for myself.
More, and as crazy as it might sound, I felt like I belonged. I’d never felt like I belonged anywhere before, even with Old Man Bertolli, but I did now. I belonged in this business, and I belonged in this house. I belonged here with Anna, and most importantly, I belonged in Luca’s arms.
14
Luca
As I lay there with Molly in my arms, I marveled at the look of her. She rested face down against my bare chest, her long dark hair scattered around her, her light dewy skin glowing in the dim night. A stunning contrast.
But then, that was this woman in a nutshell.
She was made of contrasts. Light and dark. Hard and soft. Fiery when angered and yet unintimidated when presented by anyone else’s wrath. Smart-assed yet with a penchant for thoughtfulness, especially when it counted. I’d suspected that her feisty nature would make her an exceptional lover, and I’d been correct.
Yet, as passionate as she’d been, there was nothing mean-spirited in her. Before I’d settled down, I’d had many nights with every type of woman under the sun. Some had been silly. Some had been annoying. Some had laid there unmoving. And a handful of them had been downright sadistic in the sack, and not in a good way.
But Molly, while fierce, wasn’t callous. Not sexually or any other manner. It was as if all the difficulties she’d had to handle had prepared her specifically for this life, prepared her to be with me.
And the very thought of that gave me a pang.
Alana, as much as I’d loved her, had been too good for me. For my life. That’s why I’d wanted to settle with her in an apartment away from the estate. Part of the reason I’d hesitated to marry her was in an attempt to keep her separate from everything being a Varasso entailed. I’d wanted her out of it. I’d wanted her safe.
Yet, it hadn’t made any difference. I’d lost her anyway. Her death hadn’t even been related to our way of life.
And the hard, cold truth of the matter was that once someone was a Varasso, they would always be a Varasso. As the heir, I’d been born into this life, and other than death, there was no escape.
Whether I liked it or not, whether I agreed with it or not, my destiny had been decided for me long ago.
“That’s a pretty drab expression you’re wearing considering what we’ve been doing,” Molly said, breaking into my morose reverie. She began to trace a finger along my left arm, coming across the half-inch scar on both sides of my wrist, one I’d had since childhood. “What’s this? A knife wound?” she asked, her tone jovial, playful.
“Yes,” I told her, making her freeze in my arms. I chuckled at her. “That came from what I like to call The Battle of the Saltshaker.”
“Huh?”
“As kids, Marco, Alessandro and I all decided we wanted the saltshaker at the same time. It became a bit of a skirmish, and I ended up with a steak knife through my wrist. I won the shaker, though. It’s funny because I’m not even interested in adding salt to my food now.”
“Was this at one of your Sunday dinners?”
“Yes,” I told her. “It upset my mom, so my dad bashed our heads together.”
“Bashed them together figuratively, right?”
I smiled. “No. Not figuratively.”
“Wow. That’s kind of brutal.”
I shrugged. “We’re brothers. Brothers fight. And our father disciplined us in his own way. Fortunately, Valentina Varasso loved us no matter how much we misbehaved. It’s one of the best things I remember about my mom.”
“Valentina is a beautiful name.” Her tone had grown far more sober. “When did she die?”
“When I was fifteen. It was a car accident.” I neglected to mention the real reason. The curse that had taken so much from this family. From me.
