She comes with a broken sob, body arching beautifully as pleasure wracks through her. I follow immediately, unable to hold back when she clenches around me like a vice.
She collapses onto my chest, both of us breathing hard. I stroke her hair, her back, anywhere I can reach.
"Better?" she murmurs against my throat.
"Getting there."
She lifts her head, studying my face. "We should talk about Luna. About what happens next."
"Later." I roll us over, pinning her beneath me. "Right now, I need this. Need you."
I'm already hardening again inside her, and her eyes widen.
"Lorenzo—"
I silence her with a kiss, deep and claiming. When I pull back, her pupils are blown wide.
"Hands above your head," I order softly.
She obeys immediately, fingers gripping the headboard. The trust in her eyes undoes me.
I start moving again, slow and deep, watching her face for every reaction. When I hit a particularly good angle, her back bows off the bed.
"There," she gasps. "Right there."
I maintain that angle, that pressure, building her up gradually this time. My mouth finds her breast, teeth grazing her nipple, and she moans.
"Louder," I demand against her skin. "Want everyone to know who you belong to."
"You," she cries out as I thrust harder. "Only you."
My hand wraps gently around her throat, not squeezing, just holding. She trusts me even with this, after everything.
"Mine," I growl, feeling her start to tighten around me again. "Say it."
"Yours," she gasps. "Always yours."
I increase the pace, driving into her with purpose now. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, but I don't care who hears. Let them all know she's mine, that we're unbreakable despite everything.
"Lorenzo, I'm?—"
"I know." I can feel it building in her, the way her thighs tremble, how her breathing catches. "Let go, baby. I've got you."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Sophia
Istand frozen on the sidewalk, staring up at Marina's building. My throat closes, remembering the last time I was here.
"Take your time," Lorenzo says beside me.
I force myself to breathe. One week since Marina woke up and the doctors explained about the nerve damage, the paralysis in her right hand. A week of visiting her in sterile hospital rooms while she stared at walls and gave one-word answers.
"I should go up alone." My voice comes out rough, still healing from the strangulation.
Lorenzo studies my face. "You sure?"
"She needs space from... all of this." I gesture vaguely at him, at us, at the world we represent. "From what I brought into her life."
