LUCA
Idon’t like to think of myself as a cruel man. I suppose others might. Must. When you’re in my business, it’s inevitable.
Still, I don’t like to be unnecessarily cruel to innocents, and Finch might be a jaded party-boy, but there’s still something wide-eyed about his approach to life. So I feel like a complete shit when I say it, but I have to say it: “You’re a good fuck. We can come to some arrangement for our physical needs.”
I only hope it’s believable enough this time.
Because I’ve slipped up. I never should have taken him to bed; never should have let my guard down. He touches something deep inside me that I thought was dead, or maybe never existed in the first place, something that is dangerous for both of us.
If Fuscone thought for one second I had feelings for him…
It’s bad enough, what Tino has done: making us marry, parading us around, making us an even bigger target. But it would be far worse if Fuscone realized the kind of leverage he could get over me by making a move on Finch. He’d give Finch a slow, ugly, humiliating death instead of making it a clean kill if he thought it would cause me more pain.
I asked Frank before we left on our honeymoon to find a place to stash my new spouse by the time I got back, because I fully intended to keep Finch locked up in a gilded cage for the rest of his life with all his needs catered for. I’d never see him again, but he’d be protected in a safe house in Australia or Iceland or on the moon.
But I find I can’t do it. There’s a selfish little part of me that refuses to give him up.
Anyway, Tino wouldn’t allow me to send Finch out of the city while he still has a point to prove. That’s how I justify it to myself: Tino wouldn’t allow it.
For now, at least, no one can know I’m not indifferent to Finch, least of all Finch. He wears his feelings about me on his sleeve, and worse, he seems inclined totalkabout them. If someone here on the boat heard him say he loved me, and fed it back to our enemies…
These emotions of his are as dangerous as wildfire. I need to put them out, or keep them contained at least. And I need to stamp out the same fire he’s lit in me, too, for now.
I can’tthinkwhen I’m near him, and that terrifies me.
It could kill him if I don’t get my shit together. Literally kill him.
* * *
The next morningI wake after the deepest and calmest sleep I think I’ve ever known, and find Finch in my bed still, his back to me. I have my arm around him again, and he snuggles closer with a sleepy sigh as I tighten my hold, his well-toned ass rubbing into my crotch.
He gives an appreciative moan as my cock comes to life, and reaches back to pull my hip towards him. He’s still slick from the night before; I can feel it when I slide my fingers between his cheeks. His hole is a mess of worn lube and my cum, and it should disgust me, but it only makes me harder.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs sleepily, and his hand reaches down awkwardly between us, bumping into mine where I’m fingering him. He squeezes my cock and pulls it closer, begging without words.
Well. I’m only human.
I slide into him easy as anything, and he’s so warm and welcoming I let out a moan of my own. We rock slowly, building our pleasure together. It’s so unlike the hard fuck of the night before. This feels even more intimate, more emotional. My body is betraying me, but I can’t help hoping that he understands what it’s saying.
All the same, I’ve made a decision. I will squash any emotions I have towards him, at least until we get back to New York and I can see how the battlefield is set up. I justwon’tlove him until we’re safe. Love is a choice that I’ve never bothered to make before, and I’ll put it away from me again now, fold it up and shove it in the back of a drawer like a winter sweater when springtime hits.
Simple.
After I’ve emptied myself into him and wrung a long, sweet orgasm out of him as well, I roll back and stare at the ceiling. “We’re docking today,” I say casually, like nothing has happened. “Not for long. Fuscone asked me to check in on one of his business interests while we were down here.”
“Oh,” Finch says. “That could be fun. Maybe I—”
“You’ll stay here on theMaddalena.”
He flops over at that, staring at me. “The hell I will.”
I get out of the bed without looking at him. “You’ll do what you’re told.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” He flies out of bed and bolts around it to halt me, a hand in the middle of my chest. “Nope. You don’t get to dump a load in my ass and then tell me I’m confined to quarters until you feel like another fuck. You’re myhusband, Luca, and this is our fuckinghoneymoon. So wewillspend time together, wewillget to know each other better, andwe will enjoy it!”
He’s risen to a shout by the end of his tirade, stabbing me in the sternum with a finger.
“Take your hand off me if you want to keep it,” I say quietly.
