That bite of pain added to the climbing waves of ecstasy her body always sent through him as he buried himself in her, inch by slow inch. Inevitably, he managed to sink all the way to his balls, and hold himself deep. It felt like paradise to be able to feel every beat of her heart. To know every inch of her sweet pussy so intimately. She contracted around him until it was as if his cock felt her every breath. Hot and silky. Anticipating.
He caught her hips in his hands and slowly dragged his cock back until his crown was once more right at her entrance. Her breath hitched. His did as well. He pushed into her slowly, letting the flames lick over him, lick over her.
“I love you, Emmanuelle. So damn much.” He whispered his truth as he repeated that slow, easy action, a smoldering burn that threatened to consume them both. He didn’t take his gaze from hers. Looking into her eyes. Letting himself drown there. Wanting her to drown in him.
For a man like him, who swam with sharks, who put his trust in very few, and for whom one misstep could not only doom him but other entire families, a woman like Emme was the most perfect treasure in the universe.
“Valentino.” His name came out in that whisper she had. That way that made the earth stand still for him no matter what was going on around him. She could make him lose himself completely in her.
She didn’t look away as he moved in her. He wasn’t a gentle man, or a poetic one, but he knew when he moved in her like this, looking into her eyes, this wasn’t about heart to heart, it was about soul to soul. He may have been the one to wrap the ropes around her shadow and capture her, prevent her from leaving him, but she’d taken his soul long before he’d secured her to him. She’d been the one to make him her prisoner.
Val made love to her slowly, taking his time, building the pleasure between them to an intensity that shook both of them, and then continued to build it. Emmanuelle held him tighter, the tension in her growing, the alarm on her face spreading.
“Babe, it feels like we’re going to go up in flames. That you’re destroying me. I’ll never be the same.”
“Let go for me.”
“No, not this time. If I do, it won’t just be me anymore. You know that.” There was real panic in her voice, in her eyes.
He did know. He’d already gone there. He was nothing without Emmanuelle. She had to give herself completely to him. “Let go, Emme.”
“I can’t. I don’t know yet. I have to know. This will destroy me.”
She was right. “We’ll never be the same. There’s no Valentino without you, Emmanuelle—no Emmanuelle without Valentino. Give yourself to me.” He made it an edict. A law. The truth. He leaned down and sank his teeth into that sweet, sweet spot between her shoulder and neck.
She cried out and her scorching-hot sheath clamped down on his cock. He gave a strangled roar of pleasure as a thousand fists pulled and squeezed, mouths sucked and tongues lapped, all molten hot, swirling around him in a frenzied fury.
Emmanuelle’s orgasm went on and on endlessly, or one ran right into another until the two of them were so drained they couldn’t move and lay still, fighting to just breathe. In spite of feeling every wound in his body, Valentino had never been happier, especially when Emme curled into him and let him just pull up a sheet so they could rest together.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Valentino lay with his head in Emmanuelle’s lap. How many times had he done so at the lake house when they had hidden away from everyone? He had known even then that their time was limited. Maybe he should have tried to tell her that things were going south with the family business. She’d been trying to get him to commit to leaving. She wanted them to both leave Chicago, to strike out on their own together, to make a life without their families. She was ready to give up everything for him, but he knew he would not leave the famiglia.
Blood in. Blood out. That was his life. That would be her life as well. She humbled him with the way she loved. She gave him everything, and he was still holding back. He didn’t want to, but he knew if he told her his plans, he would lose her. Back then, he’d tried to find something to give her, something for her to hold on to when she realized he was going to keep them in Chicago, that he was going to take over his father’s business.
Now he needed to talk to her. Tell her what she needed to know. They’d slept for a short hour, showered briefly and returned to bed. He’d snapped the night-light back on, telling her he wanted to see her face. He did, but he had other motives. He always had other motives, but he needed to see her face. Her expressions. She wanted him to talk to her about the Saldi myth, and he needed to be able to read her. This was going to be difficult all the way around.
Her fingers stroked through his hair, soothing him. He had all but forgotten how that made him feel. Loved. Cared for. She had a way of soothing him and allowing his brain to quiet. He always thought at such a fast speed; it was nice to be able to slow things down and just enjoy a little peace with his woman.
“When I first felt our shadows connect at that party, that jolt of physical awareness, it was sexual, so fucking hot, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t talk.” He glanced up at her face. “When I realized it was for you, and you were a kid, I was ashamed of myself for feeling the most physical attraction I had ever felt for a woman in my life.”
Emmanuelle didn’t say anything; she just sat there, eyes half-closed, those long lashes of hers veiling her expression so he couldn’t see what she was feeling. He went on. She wanted to know, and he was going to tell her.
“I knew my birth parents loved each other. It was evident in everything they said and did. They were inseparable. Sometimes I wasn’t always sure they had room for me.” He gave her a faint grin. “I’m kidding. They both spent plenty of time with me. I might have been an only, but I was never lonely.”
He reached up and traced her lips. “I wanted a family. I always knew I wanted a family and that I would love my wife and children the way my birth parents loved each other. The way Giuseppi loved Greta and she loved him. The way Giuseppi and Greta loved me.”
He fell silent. His adopted father was such a dichotomy. He loved his family wholeheartedly. Was gentle with Greta, although very strict with her about separating business from his home life. She could never inquire into his business affairs without severe reprimands. He’d expected Val to follow in his footsteps, and he’d showed him every aspect of the business, especially the harshest, most vile tortures, ones that included keeping a man alive for days using drugs and IVs so he would suffer endlessly if Giuseppi deemed he deserved it. Killing families of traitors while the traitor watched before torturing him so they would be made an example of was also something he would do without a qualm if he thought it was deserved—even families he knew.
Val had learned early what was expected of him, and he accepted his fate, that mantle of authority. He recognized that the organization was, in some ways, a protection for the rest of the civilian population. There were always going to be criminals. Always. How bad those criminals got, and how out of control, depended on how strong leadership was within the organization. Giuseppi was a strong leader, and he refused to allow certain types of crimes to take place in his territories. Anyone trying to bring in human trafficking or selling drugs to children, things Giuseppi was opposed to, would earn a death sentence, but not just a death sentence; he made an example out of you—and that wasn’t something anyone wanted.