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“Say it again,” he says, kissing a sensitive spot on my neck. “Let me hear it.”
I utter a content little sigh. “Angelo.”
His regret is honest. “There was a time I believed I’d never hear my name on your lips again.”
“So did I.” I cup his face. “I promised to never say it as long as I live, but I guess a part of me did die that night.”
He cups my hand over his cheek, emotions playing in his eyes. “Bella.”
“But I’m here, and I want you.”
His features set with the fierce determination I got to know so well. “And you will have what you want.” He settles between my thighs, spreading my legs. “Always.”
His cock presses like a steel rod against my folds. I rub my lower body over his hardness, inviting a groan that reverberates deep in his chest. I need him inside me. I want him to fill me. Wrapping my hand around his length, I guide the large crest to my opening, but he catches my wrist.
“Not yet,cara.” He kisses my lips, tasting of salt and sea and memories of us. “Let me make this last.”
The impatience punishing me is new, but it’s only physical. My mind doesn’t mind the wait. My heart wants what he does—to make the moment last forever. He presses his lips on my eyes and on the beauty spot at the corner of my mouth. He’s so gentle I want to cry. We started like a hailstorm that mutilated flowers and crippled trees, and we ended like a soft drizzle that nurtures the soil and leaves crystal drops on delicate petals.
He kisses a path down my body all the way to my belly button and back. His tongue is warm on my nipples, his mouth wet and familiar. His kisses are like rain in a thirsty riverbed, the drops soaking the soil and mending the cracks in the dry earth. His lips are like medicine, offering something more powerful than hope.
When he wraps his hand around mine where my fingers are locked around his cock and shows me what he wants, I stroke him eagerly.
Sealing his lips over mine, he kisses me with the same gentleness of earlier as he parts my folds and slowly sinks inside me. This too is familiar—the stretch and the way my nerve-endings ignite. The way my body comes alive for him in a different way.
I wrap my legs around his ass and cling to him as he rocks inside me with an unhurried pace. Our gazes lock. He intertwines our fingers and stretches my arms above my head while searching my eyes, giving me answers before I even thought about the questions.
“I love you, Sabella Edwards-Russo.”
The man claiming my body is every bit the dangerous, obsessive predator I got to know, but for me, his smile is tender.
The need builds again, rising like a tide inside me. I close my fingers, holding on to him. “I love you, Angelo.”
He changes his angle and hits that spot that always sends me over the edge. “Say it. Again.”
“I love you,” I whisper, crying out with pleasure.
“God, woman.” He clenches his jaw. “What you do to me.”
We come together, his hard body drawing taut as he empties himself inside me, branding me in the most primal way he can. It doesn’t leave a mark on my skin, but the mark on my soul runs deeper. The mark on my heart runs into eternity.
Breathing hard, he rests our foreheads together. He untangles our fingers and wraps his arms around me, holding me against him while staying inside me. It’s different than before. It’s not angry sex or revenge sex or sex for the sake of procreating. It’s not a reserved coupling that resembles lovemaking but that lacks the most basic element because we’re both holding back to protect our hearts.
It’s simple and pure.
Just love.
Epilogue
Angelo
Five months later, November 15th
The sun beats down on my head where I stand on the beach of Great Brak River, scanning the water. I pace up and down the sand, willing the boat to come into view. The helicopter I commissioned is nowhere in sight. I could’ve gone with the pilot and the men I armed with automatic rifles and harpoons, but I wanted to be here for Sabella when she gets back.
My phone rings in my pocket. I take it out and check the screen. It’s Mrs. Powell.
Answering the call, I say, “Letitia.”
