“Taking all the credit, are you?”
“What I mean is…” I stumble over the words as he slows his thrusts, edging me to the point of torture. “I want you to relieve this ache inside me.”
A low sound of frustration catches in his throat. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”
The weight of that statement settles over me, and somehow, I know he’s referring to the time we were apart. He doesn’t think I could possibly feel it as deeply as he did.
“I ache for you every day,” I whisper. “Even now.”
I regret saying it when he stills inside me.
“You ache for me so much, you kneel for other men.”
“It didnt mean anything.”
“It had to be Ares Stavros,” he bites out.
“I was just doing my job,” I protest. “When I kneel for you, it’s because I want to give myself to you completely.”
“And yet you won’t.”
Because I’m a liar.
There’s nothing I can say to that, and I think I’ve ruined the moment when he pulls out. Then he rolls me onto my back and settles between my thighs, ripping the mask off and tossing it aside.
“This wasn’t how this was supposed to go,” he says.
“I’m sorry.” I meet his eyes, unable to hide the overwhelming emotion in mine.
“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He sighs, leaving the next part unsaid.
I just want you to be mine.
He sinks into me and sets a different pace. Less punishing, more deliberate. It’s a slow, possessive burn I feel deep in my bones. When his eyes drift to my lips, I can see how much he wants to kiss me. But he won’t let himself. I want to beg him to forgive me for leaving him. I want to tell him to keep me forever. Except, I can’t.
So instead, I wrap my legs around him and thread my fingers through his hair. Then I bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until I come.
It isn’t a violent release. It’s catharsis.
A moment later, he sinks deep inside me, groaning as he empties himself. The warmth of his cum floods my body, and all the tension between us seems to melt away. For a while, we just lay there as he continues to move inside me, like he isn’t ready for it to be over.
I’m not either. But exhaustion starts to pull me under as I look up at him with heavy eyes.
“You’re mine, Abella.” His knuckles graze my face, warmth returning to his touch. “And soon, you’ll have our baby inside you.”
I don’t know who he’s trying to convince—me or himself. I know I shouldn’t verbalize it, but I do.
“What if we fail?”
“I would sooner scorch the earth than concede the Vitale throne to a Stavros,” he declares. “Failure isn’t an option.”
39
ANGELO
Shifting back to her protector, I lift Abella in my arms, hands planted on her ass. She wraps her legs around me and rests her head on my shoulder. Her skin is damp, her cheeks are flushed, and her tangled hair is littered with dirt and grass. She’s never looked more ravaged than she does right now.
When the mess between her thighs soaks into my hoodie on the way back to the house, it makes me hard all over again.
