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Not to mention the secret father of my child. Oh, and the man I've spent the last three years wondering about constantly.
Plus, I think about him in the shower and lying alone in bed every night, especially when I feel worked up.I wore out a vibrator from all my times fantasizing about Domenic Caputo giving me the exact look he is now.
His lips brush the shell of my ear, sending a pleased sensation careening in my stomach. "You said you trust me. Does that not count for something,fiore di ciliegio?"
Cherry blossom. Isn't that what he told me it meant? I use cherry blossom scented shampoo, conditioner, lotion—everything I can get my hands on. It's my favorite scent of all time, and he's clearly fond of it too, drawing in a deep breath of me and placing featherlight kisses against my uninjured temple and down to my jaw.
He's so warm at my back, and I just want to lean back into him and ignore just how many significant secrets I'm trying to keep away from this stoic yet magnetic man. God, this is so frustrating. The night we spent together after I tracked down the virus in his system had been everything I didn't know I needed so badly. Right now, I'm feeling so weak and vulnerable on this horrible anniversary that I just want to feel like that again. Safe and treasured in this mafioso's arms while he makes me orgasm over and over again and whispers naughty things in my ear.
Would it be so weak of me to give in to this pull between us just once more?
Yes. Probably.
But fuck it, I'm weak right now. The idea of being held by Domenic, of going to dinner with him and getting my mind off of my tragic father and how topsy-turvy my world has been for my entire life, is something I just can't pass up.
My decision must reflect on my face because Domenic's mouth curls up in a wicked smile, and he murmurs against my ear.
"Good. You'll leave with me today."
Ah, shit. "I can't."
"You can and you will."
God, I like when Domenic is demanding. But he doesn't know what today is for me or how badly my mother copes on this day, either. He doesn't know that she's probably a wreck at home while Evelyn draws on the wall or toddles around practically unsupervised until I get home. I need to be there for them today, but that doesn't mean I can't take a rain check on my weak moment, does it?
Because I really want just a little more of my mafioso boss. He's dangerous, the number one person I should be avoiding like the fucking plague, yet I can't seem to get enough of him.
"Tomorrow," I tell him, slipping away before he can argue. "And for God's sake, smile a little at the people in your casino today. Remember, flies and honey and all of that. Try it, and you might even like it,il mio stressato capo."
I think that's supposed to meanmy stressed boss. That's all I've managed to learn in Italian, but eventually, I want to know a whole slew of Italian swear words to throw at Domenic whenever the need may arise. In the meantime, maybe I'll research how to say something dirty to him.
Who knows? It could come in handy tomorrow.
Domenic's low laugh follows me as I leave him alone in the hall. For once, on the anniversary of the worst day of my life, I find a small smile teasing my lips.
Chapter 12
Domenic
I'm like a man possessed as I groan and thrust harder into Loren's tight, wet warmth, my control long gone as my fingers dig into her perfect hips, and her beautiful cries fill the room.
“Yes! God, yes, please.F—fottimi forte,” she gasps.
Fuck me hard.
My God, I love hearing Italian on her tongue. It's stilted and jerky from the pace I'm setting, and her accent would make me scoff with laughter in any other context, but here? In my bedroom of the luxury mansion, I own on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Loren in my bed as I'm buried deep inside her, hanging onto my control by a thread?
I love it. I fucking love that she learned just these tiny bits of my family's mother tongue just to tease me.
And she's teased me all night. Loren wouldn't speak of whatever upset her so much yesterday. Still, tonight as we sat at a Michelin-star restaurant, she wore that same backless blue dress that dipped low in the front, her intoxicating body like a fucking beacon for my eyes every second of our meal. She was gorgeous, but it was torture to wait patiently and watch her sip wine and laugh while giving me fuck-me eyes and knowing smiles.
The dinner conversation was all witty banter. This woman knows how to keep me on my toes, despite my best attempts to hide that fact. She's everything I'm not—warmth, giggles, and sass, where I tend to be reserved and skeptical.
We shouldn't make sense. I should let the hacker be, but this draw between us is something I'm quickly realizing I don't care to fight. Not when she makes me feel something I've never experienced before every fucking time I look at her.
"Fuck," I grit out when Loren clenches tightly around me, her third orgasm within the last ten minutes.
She grips my sheets and looks so goddamn perfect coming undone beneath me, her hair a halo of gold framing her pretty face and her tits heaving with her pleasure—and I lose myself right after her, fucking her deeply and slipping into Italian by accident as I groan my own release.
