His hand moved between us, wrapping around himself, stroking in time with my thrusts. I watched him fall apart, chasing the edge, getting closer with every movement.
"Luca—I'm—"
"Come for me. Let me see you."
He did. Spilled over his hand with my name on his lips and his body clenching around me. The sight and sound and feel of it pushed me over the edge right behind him. I buried myself deep and came hard, grinding against him through the aftershocks.
For a long moment we just stayed there. Connected. Both breathing hard. Both wrung out and satisfied.
I pulled out carefully and dealt with the condom. When I came back to bed, Valentino was still sprawled across my sheets, eyes half-closed, looking thoroughly debauched.
"Come here." I pulled him against my chest and he came willingly, tucking his head under my chin.
We lay there in silence as our breathing returned to normal. As the sweat cooled and reality seeped back in. His fingers traced idle patterns on my chest and I held him close, suddenly terrified he'd realize what we'd just done and leave.
"Stay," I said quietly. "Tonight. Stay here with me."
He didn't answer immediately. I felt him thinking, processing, deciding.
"Okay," he said finally. "I'll stay."
Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For coming tonight. For giving this a chance. For letting me prove I meant what I said."
He lifted his head to look at me. "Did you? Mean it?"
"Every word. I want this, Valentino. Want you. Not as an asset or a controlled variable. As..." I struggled for the right words. "As someone who matters."
"I want that too." His voice was small. Vulnerable. "Even though I probably shouldn't."
"We can figure out the 'should' later. For now, just—" I kissed his forehead. "Stay."
"I'm here." He settled back against my chest. "I'm not going anywhere tonight."
I held him close and watched the lights of Manhattan through the windows. Watched him slowly relax into sleep, his breathing evening out, his body going soft and trusting against mine.
And I realized I was in deeper than I'd thought.
Somewhere between coercion and choice, between control and trust, I'd fallen for Valentino Russo.
The journalist I'd threatened. The man I'd blackmailed. The person who saw through my carefully constructed persona and made me want to be someone real.
I was falling in love with him.
The realization should have terrified me. Should have sent me into self-protective mode. Instead I just held him closer and let myself feel it.
Tomorrow I could worry about complications. About the FBI and the business and all the ways this could go wrong.
Tonight I just watched him sleep and let myself hope that maybe—just maybe—we could build something real from the ashes of how we'd started.
CHAPTER 5: VALENTINO
I WOKE UPto sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and for a disorienting moment couldn't remember where I was.
Not my apartment. Not my bed. The sheets were too soft, the mattress too comfortable, the room too expensive to be mine.
