Page 64 of The Price of Power

“No!” Letizia and I chirped at the same time.

Liv laughed at our response. “All right, I get it. I’m a bad cook. No need to shout.”

“You have plenty of other talents,” I assured her before taking her by the hand. “But for now, I will get Liv out of your hair, Letizia. We’ll get cleaned up and be down in a few hours.”

“Take your time.”

“Oh, we will,” I practically purred against Liv’s ear as we left the kitchen.

I tried to restrain my desires as we mounted the stairs, but it was hard with her round ass bobbing up and down right in front of me. I couldn’t resist reaching out and wrapping my hands around the swell of her hips.

“Gabriel,” she chided me in a whisper. “Wait until we get upstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because there are people in this house,” she said. “Your brother and Mrs. Tarolli.”

I pulled her in close, her delicious backside molding perfectly against my groin. Yes—this was what I’d been daydreaming about all day. This was what I wanted.

“They’ll stay away once they hear what we’re up to,” I assured her.

But she craned her head back, flicking those auburn curls over her shoulder. “Or you could wait until we could go up one more flight of stairs, close the door, and they won’t hear a thing.”

“No, dolcezza,” I said, taking the opportunity to nuzzle my face against the exposed column of her neck. I breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of cinnamon, sweet sugar, and feminine charm. “The way I’ve been thinking about you today, I plan on making you cry out so loud with pleasure that they hear you all the way over in Brooklyn.”

And the second I got her in my bedroom, that’s exactly what I tried to do.

In less than a minute, I had her out of those flour-dusted clothes and in my arms. Pressing her flush against me, I kissed her hard. Harder than ever before, thinking that maybe if I drank her in deep enough, it might finally soothe this thirst inside me.

But it wasn’t enough.

After this much time with Liv, I should have known better. I should have realized that no matter how many times I took her, I’d never be done.

She was an addiction.

No. That wasn’t right.

Addictions were malignant and destructive. They only brought darkness and despair. They didn’t create cracks in old dungeon walls that let the light come streaming in.

Liv was something different. She was essential.

Like air or water, she was necessary. Like sunlight, she brought clarity. Like the cinnamon and sugar still clinging to her fingertips, she brought flavor to life and made it worth living.

I cast off my suit as I guided us toward the bathroom, not caring about the trail of clothes I left in my wake. The only thing that mattered was Liv.

She was the only thing I focused on as the steaming water crashed around us, heating our skin as we moved together. My fingers tangled in her wet curls as she leaned forward, arching her back as my aching cock slid inside her.

Fuck, it was good.

Just like every time before and every time after would be. Perfection. A damned masterpiece.

Her moans and cry as I plunged inside her, again and again, as beautiful as any Puccini aria. The expression of ecstasy on her face as immaculate as any Michelangelo sculpture.

This was heaven. It had to be.

And as I buried myself to the hilt inside her one last time before coming deep inside her, I knew it was only the beginning.

There was still so much night ahead of us.

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