Page 57 of Read This Before the Villain falls in Love with You

I do. Slow rolls at first, careful, letting the heat build instead of crash. Every downward slide drags a quiet curse out of him. Every upward grind makes my thighs shake. The desperation is still there, raw under the surface, but we keep it tender because anything rougher might tear the stitches or the fragile thing between us.

My hips move in a steady, torturous rhythm. "Talk to me. I need to hear you breathe. I need to know you're fucking alive."

"I'm right here." His dark eyes lock onto mine, burning with a fierce intensity. "You're squeezing me so tight, like you're afraid I'll vanish. I'm not going anywhere, Nora. Not when you feel this fucking incredible. Not when you stayed."

I sink down all the way, resting my forehead against his neck. "I almost threw a metal tray at the doctor when he told me to get out. The poor guy looked terrified. It was pretty great."

Luca's laugh breaks into a groan. "Violent little thing. Come here."

I lean down so he can kiss me properly. The angle changes everything. Pleasure coils tighter, sharper. His hand slips between us, thumb circling my clit with filthy patience while I ride him. Sweat slicks our skin. The monitor beeps faster. Neither of us cares.

My nails dig into his uninjured bicep as the friction tips me right over the edge. "Luca, please. I cannot hold it."

He thrusts upward with devastating precision, jaw tight. "Then let go. Give it to me right now."

The orgasm hits slow and devastating, rolling through me in waves that leave me trembling and gasping his name like a prayer I don't believe in. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep with a broken sound, good arm locked around my waist as he spills inside me.

We stay locked together afterward, breathing the same air, neither willing to separate yet. When I finally ease off he winces but keeps hold of my hand.

His fingers wrap around my hand with quiet urgency instead of his usual smug command. "Stay here."

"Was already planning on it." I clean us both with warm cloths from the sink, gentle over his bandages, then crawl back onto the bed on his uninjured side. He tugs the thin blanket over us. His fingers comb through my hair, slow and steady.

"You panicked back there," he whispers against the crown of my head, his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.

"No fucking shit I was scared. You bled all over the stone looking like a goddamn dramatic oil painting. Next time, get shot somewhere less vital. An ankle. An earlobe. Something I can actually make fun of you for."

He lets out a low, rough laugh into my hair. "I'll make sure to ask you where to get shot next time."

I rest a careful hand on his chest and whisper, "You better. My hourly rate is way too high for this bullshit, but I guess you get a discount."

I press a kiss to his chest, right above the steady thud of his heart. "I meant what I said on the balcony. Past the sex. Past the war. I care about you so much it makes me stupid. Watching you go down tonight just made it louder."

His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me flush against his side. "Same. Losing you would completely destroy me. We don't let that happen. Understand?"

"Understood." I tilt my chin up to flash him a wicked smirk. "But I'm still burning your favorite Tom Ford suit the next time you move my bedroom without asking. Fair warning, asshole."

"I'd expect nothing less." He kisses my forehead, lingering. "Sleep. I've got you."

For the first time since the shots started, I believe him. Outside the infirmary the estate is quiet again. Inside, wrapped around the man I almost lost, I let the last walls crumble and finally rest.

Chapter 22

LUCA

I wake up to the dull throbbing in my shoulder before I even open my eyes. Bandages pull tight across the wound with every breath. But Nora is draped half across my chest, dead to the world, her bare skin radiating warmth against my ribs. Pale morning light cuts through the window onto the tangled sheets, and my good arm stays hooked around her waist, holding her locked against my side.

A soft breath puffs warm against my collarbone. She stirs, stretching long against my side, and her sharp eyes flutter open. Her lips twitch into a smirk like she caught me red-handed.

"You're staring." Her voice scrapes rough with sleep. "Creepy much?"

I shift just enough to drag my fingers down her spine. "You're naked in my bed. Staring is the polite fucking response." I pause, watching her mouth twitch. "Besides, you weren't complaining three hours ago."

She snorts and pushes up on one elbow, careful of the sling. The sheet slips. I watch it go without apology. She notices and rolls her eyes, but the flush on her neck gives her away.

"Polite. Right. Because nothing says courtly manners like kidnapping someone off a London street and dragging them into your bed." She taps the edge of the gauze, testing my limits with a light flick of her fingernail. "How bad does the shoulder actually feel, boss?"

"I've had worse headaches from Enzo's cheap espresso." I catch her wrist before she pokes again, tugging her hand down against my chest. "Stop inspecting me like a bruised peach. I'm not dying."