Her eyes moved to my watch when I pressed a button on it. The back wall started to move silently, slipping in front of another wall, and the space behind it opened. It looked like an elevator. Cold. Sterile. A metal wall stood on the other side. I put my arm out, gesturing for her to step inside. She didn’t hesitate. After we stepped into the space, I closed the door in the master closet and opened the other side, gesturing for her to step out first.
“The fire station,” she said, looking over the space. “That’s what this is, right?”
“Redone,” I said. “Completely redone.”
She made an impressed sound. “This has Mac Macchiavello written all over it—in disappearing ink.”
I laughed, moving her hair to the side. I wrapped my arms around her waist and set my lips on her neck. She held tight to the glass railing, her eyes closing.
“Corretto,” I said.Correct.“He did this for his butterfly, Mariposa.”
The other side was cold, almost sterile. It was cavernous, but at the same time, felt empty. He’d done this side for her with warm colors and soft furnishings. Butterfly paintings hung on the wall. Family pictures were everywhere else.
She turned her head a fraction to meet my eyes. “He did this to keep her safe,” she said. “And he made it into a home, so it wouldn’t feel like a prison.”
I shrugged. “I suppose he did.”
“I love it, Rio,” she said. “Did you grow up here?”
“We spent time here, but we traveled a lot.”
“Us, too,” she said. “But it’s nice to have a place like this. A place where your roots feel safe.”
That year she wanted. She wanted a place to plant our roots, to bury them so deep, they would tangle into an irreversible knot—no one could touch them or unravel them. The woman in my arms was a rare breed. And she was all fucking mine. Pride swelled in my veins, rushing to my chest.
“Concordato,” I said, my voice quiet.“Only a few people know about this side. Rocco. Dario. Donato.” Two of her uncles and the head of Rocco’s security. All men who belonged to her and had earned trust. “Now you—and your family will know about it once they get here. No one else. Not even the men on the other side. They’ll just think we’re spending time in other parts of the house.”
She busted out laughing. “This is someserioussubterfuge.”
“Like the bat cave.”
“That sounds like something Mari would say.”
“Where do you think I heard it?” I laughed. “She used to tell me that when I was a kid.”
We became quiet as we looked over the house. She squeezed my wrists, her head falling into my chest, and I set my chin on it. I was so big compared to her. I could wrap my arms around her, and she’d disappear.
“Maybe I feel more like Little Red Riding Hood,” she whispered. “But in this version, I fall in love with the wolf, and he falls in love with me. He hides me here to protect me from other dangerous animals in the dark woods.” Her hand covered the wolf tattoo, and then her other covered the one with the lion.
“Come, Little Red Riding Hood.” I pulled her deeper into the house. “Let me show you the rest of the place before Ihuffand Ipuffand I blow that fucking dress off your body.”
Her ass was like a juicy apple that I wanted to sink my teeth into. And that was exactly what I did after she knew where the kitchen and our bedroom and bathroom were.
All thoughts cleared as her cool hands explored my body, tightening around my cock, caressing my balls. Compared to the heat of my body, she was branding me with a cool touch. She reached out for me when I laid her on the bed and used my tongue instead of my hands. I licked her up and down, teasing her, until she was writhing on the bed, her thighs spread open.
She saw me as an animal. That’s what she got. An animal getting high off the noises she made, like I was devouring a meal. Her hands fisted in my hair, and she was pushing herself against my face.
“Oh God.”
She went wild as she came. So was I. I picked her up, flipped her over, and set her on her knees. She held tight to the headboard and cried out when I slipped inside. She was sensitive, moaning deep and low, feeling every inch of me slide in and out of her.
Then our bodies became as feral as our minds.
“Harder!” she almost begged, knowing I was holding back. I could split her in two and had to be careful that I didn’t.
I pulled her hair and gave her what she wanted, knowing how much she could take. Our bodies slapped, the noises from our mouths and chests animalistic, even if my thrusts were controlled.
All the times she’d pushed me away, all the times she refused to say yes, the years, minutes, seconds, and miles of wanting, stirred something deep inside of my chest.
