He's cleaned himself up. He's changed his clothes. The blood is gone from his face and hands. He looks normal. It's like he didn't just end a life.
"It's done," he says.
"The body?"
"Gone. The floor is clean. You wouldn't know anything happened."
His world runs like this. It's clean. Fast. It's like death is just another mess to handle.
"Come here," he says.
I stand. I walk to him. I let him pull me against his chest. His heart is beating steady and slow. Mine is still racing. His arms lock around me, holding me in place while he assesses the damage. Not the body on the floor. Me.
After a moment, he steps back. "Shower."
It's not a question.
I follow him to the bathroom. It's massive. All marble and glass and obscenely expensive. The shower could fit four people comfortably.
He strips. He's efficient. There's no show. He's just a man getting undressed.
I'm slower. My hands are shaking. He helps me out of my clothes and then I'm standing there naked while he turns on the water and adjusts the temperature.
Steam fills the room. He takes my hand and leads me under the spray.
The water is hot. Almost too hot. It beats down on my shoulders, my back, washing away the numbness. I start to shake for real now. Not fear. Not shock. Just release.
Luca holds me. He lets me tremble against him while the water runs over both of us. His hands move over my back. They're not gentle. They're just... there. Anchoring me.
"He would have killed me. Then you. I'd do it again," he says quietly.
Something breaks in me. Some last wall I was holding up.
I kiss him. I'm desperate. Needy. Trying to prove I'm alive. That he's alive. That we're both still here.
He kisses me back just as hard. His hands fist in my wet hair, tilting my head back, angling me exactly how he wants me. His tongue invades my mouth. He's claiming. Possessing. I need this. I need him. I need to feel something other than numb.
He must sense it because his hands drop to my ass, gripping hard enough to bruise. "Tell me what you need."
"You." My voice breaks. "I need you."
His teeth sink into my neck. Not asking. Taking. "Then you'll take what I give you."
He growls against my throat—a sound that's more threat than pleasure. Then his mouth crashes onto mine, brutal and demanding, while his hand slides between my legs.
I'm already wet. From wanting him.
His fingers find my clit and I gasp into his mouth. He doesn't tease. He doesn't build slowly. He just rubs firm circles that make my knees buckle.
"Luca—"
"I've got you." He pushes his fingers inside me and I cry out. "Fuck, you're soaked."
"Yes." I'm panting now. I'm clinging to his shoulders.
"Say it properly." His thumb replaces his fingers on my clit while he pumps into me. It's slow. Deliberate. "Tell me whose pussy this is."
Heat floods my face but I'm too far gone to care. "Yours."
