Page 69 of The New Godfather

Every flutter of her lashes, every parting of her lips, every time her head falls back against the wall, and her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. I memorize it all. Her breasts bounce with every roll of her hips, water streaming over them, and I lean down to catch one nipple in my mouth, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the tight peak as she cries out.

I can’t hold back anymore.

I grip her hips tighter, fingers digging into her soft flesh, and start pounding up into her — hard, deep, relentless. The sound of our bodies coming together is loud and frantic beneath the rain. She’s shaking in my arms, moaning my name, when her eyes roll back as pleasure overtakes her completely.

“Fuck… Ricci…”

The sound of my name on her lips nearly undoes me. I almost slip up and tell her I’m in love with her. The words are right there on my tongue, burning, desperate, aching to be said. But I manage to hold myself back at the last second, swallowing them down with a low groan. Instead, I kiss her, devour her, swallowing every moan, every gasp, every broken cry as I pound into her. My tongue slides against hers, claiming her mouth the same way I’m claiming her body, relentless and hungry.

I fuck her like that until I come hard inside her.

Chapter Sixty-Four

VIOLA

It’s already Sunday. How fast the weekend has flown. We’re on the way back home, and I’m curled up on the wide seat of the private jet like I belong here.

The hum of the engines is a low, steady lullaby beneath us, and the cabin is dim and quiet, just the soft glow of a reading light somewhere behind us. My head rests on Ricci’s chest, his heartbeat a slow, reassuring thud against my ear. His arm is wrapped around me, heavy and warm, fingers idly stroking up and down my back even though he thinks I’m fully asleep.

I don’t want to go back. Not really. The weekend felt like a stolen slice of another life. Just the two of us, the ocean, the rain, the way he looked at me like nothing else in the world existed. But I can’t wait to see Freddie. The little grey ball of energy with his pink nose and those ridiculous ears has somehow carved out a permanent spot in my heart in just a few short days.

I feel Ricci shift slightly, his lips brushing the top of my head in a kiss so gentle it makes my chest ache. He thinks I’m still sleeping. I let him believe it for a little longer, just so I can stay right here, wrapped in him, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the ocean air that still clings to his skin.

Eventually the pilot announces our descent, and I stir, blinking up at him. He smiles down at me, that soft, private smile he saves only for when we’re alone.

“Are you ready for real?” he asks, voice low and warm, his fingers still tracing lazy patterns on my back.

I nod, suddenly a little shy. “Yes.”

He lifts an eyebrow, curious. “What is it?”

I avoid his eyes for a second, tracing a finger over the collar of his shirt. “Real life with you feels like a dream.”

He goes still. Then he gently lifts my chin with two fingers, tilting my face up so I have to look at him. His whiskey eyes are wide with surprise, searching mine like he’s trying to read every hidden thought behind them.

A blush spreads hot across my face. I’m burning up, embarrassed by how sentimental it sounds when it is out of my mouth, but I don’t take it back. I can’t. It’s the truth.

Ricci stares at me for a long moment, something raw and intense flickering across his face. Then he leans in and kisses me passionately. It is the kind of kiss that says everything he doesn’t put into words. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm on my lips.

“I accept,” he murmurs. “I accept the compliment.”

The rest of the flight passes in a comfortable haze of me curled up against Ricci’s side on the wide seat, my head on his chest, his arm draped heavy and warm around me. We don’t talk much, but we don’t need to. Every now and then he presses a kiss to the top of my head or strokes his fingers slowly up and down my arm, and I feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek. It’s peaceful. Safe. The kind of closeness I always craved. For a while I let myself drift, half-asleep.

Soon we land.

I’m practically bouncing from foot to foot as we ride up the private elevator to the penthouse. My heart is racing with anticipation, a bright, giddy flutter I can’t hide. I keep glancing at Ricci, smiling like an idiot, and he watches me with that soft, amused look in his eyes. All I can think about is my tiny grey puppy waiting for me.

The doors slide open with a soft ding.

And there he is.

Running towards me — a little grey blur of wiggles and excited yips, his tiny nails clicking frantically across the polished wood floor as he launches himself toward me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. His whole body shakes with joy, his short tail wagging so hard it looks like it might fly off. His adorable pink ears flop wildly, and his sweet little face is full of pure, open delight.

I drop to my knees, laughing as he jumps straight into my arms. He’s all soft wrinkles and clumsy paws, licking my face with frantic, happy enthusiasm, his warm tongue swiping across my cheeks and nose. His tail is wagging so hard his entire little body vibrates against me. I lift him up in the air, spinning him gently, and he lets out the cutest little squeak, legs kicking in mid-air like he’s flying.

“Oh my God,” I whisper, half-laughing, half-crying, my voice thick with emotion. “Look at you… you have grown during the weekend.”

Rebecca comes in then, her smile warm as she watches us.