If I had no feelings, I’d have let the Russians fuck her first before I killed them.
“Did they fuck you?” I whispered against her lips.
“No. Only you. It’s only been you.”
I didn’t give a fuck how much blood we were in or the number of dead bodies around us.
I undid my pants and shoved myself deep into her tight pussy as she cried out, her body arching against mine at the sudden intrusion.
“Tell me,” she said between frantic kisses as I rutted deep inside her hot cunt.
“I love… you,” I said, the words falling from my lips like a breath I’d been holding. “Indigo. I love you.”
She moaned, her lips against mine, her fingers twisted into my hair as she raised her hips to meet my thrusts.
I fucked her hard and fast, the pure pleasure and bliss driving me mad. It was a good thing she was barely wearing anything, because I’d have torn her clothes straight from her body to get inside her.
The sound of our slapping skin and heavy breathing echoed in rhythm to the music.
And then she was coming, her pussy squeezing my cock so hard I had no choice but to groan and shoot my load deep inside her.
I slowed my movements and stared down at her.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” I murmured. “You just make me feel things…”
She cradled my face and stared into my eyes.
“It’s OK to feel things.”
I nodded, my throat tight.
“Let’s go upstairs. You have blood in your hair and on your face. Let me bathe you, my sweet doll.” I pulled free from her body before removing my suit jacket. I wrapped it around her after fixing what little clothes she had before lifting her into my arms. I stepped over the bodies and left the room to find Dean and several others standing outside, looking like they were terrified to enter.
“I need a clean-up,” I said. “For three.”
“And Matteo, sir?” Dean asked, glancing to the open door.
“Tell him I killed three Russians who were trying to fuck my woman.”
And that was that.
I took Indigo upstairs and ran her a bath before I got in to wash her.
Love was a hell of a thing.
32
KLAUS
Istared at the wall in front of me in Matteo’s office as I drank. I was exhausted and spent every moment looking for my hummingbird. The thought that she was out there, hurt, or worse, was killing me.
I couldn’t fucking eat. I couldn’t sleep. Everything was falling apart around me, and I blamed myself.
We’d agreed not to tell Constantino—Evan—because we didn’t want his healing to be halted, because without a doubt, he’d break free and try to find her.
Santino even agreed it was a bad idea to tell him she was missing. He spent time searching for her, too, all while fucking up everything he could for De Luca despite Evan being alive.
I think he was just pissed, and I could get on board with that.
