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I had no idea how he withheld from spilling his load. He clearly had a will of iron. Then he reached between my legs and squeezed my clit. A jolt of electricity burned through my nerve endings and shot me straight into climax, satisfaction blasting through me until it was as if I was nothing but overcharged atoms.

Serafino froze, then roared as he ejaculated, filling me with his seed. Then all that could be heard was the spray hitting our bodies and the tiles. Warm steam lazily swirled around us, fogging the mirrors and shower screen.

He ran his hands up and down my hips. “That was incredible.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. Sex had never been like this with anyone else. We were little more than strangers and yet it was as if I’d known him all my life. I straightened and he kissed my nape before he carefully disconnected. I held back a sigh. It really wasn’t going to be easy walking away from him.

Chapter Nine

Serafino

My emotions were in tatters, my mind whirling as I entered my walk-in closet with Delilah. Be careful what you wish for, a voice taunted inside my head.

My stare returned to the woman who’d turned my life upside down. Not that I was complaining. If my life had become jaded, it was now bright and full of color and life.

I blew out a breath as I dressed into casual gray pants and a cream polo shirt. After buckling on my chest holster, I pushed in my gun before shoving my arms into the sleeves of an informal gray jacket that helped to conceal my weapon.

She arched a brow as she pulled on the same white pants and leopard print top she’d worn earlier from our visit to the little boutique. “Did you realize you were staring at me the whole time you were getting dressed?”

I shrugged. “It’s hard not to.”

Her green eyes warmed. “You know how to make a woman feel good.”

I smirked. “I certainly hope so.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to hope. When you’re not tearing me in half every time we have sex, you’re given me glorious orgasms.”

It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Tearing you in half? Is that what is called a backhanded compliment?

She giggled. “Maybe? But glorious orgasms are high praise.”

I was smiling when I clasped her hand and walked with her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. That she’d discarded her heels and chose to stay barefooted made me realize just how much I towered next to her. Did she feel intimidated? I imagined women in her profession needed to grasp every advantage they could get, including height.

I picked up my cell from the kitchen bench and said, “Give me one minute to order a light lunch. How does an antipasto sound?”

“Wonderful,” she conceded.

After making the call, I brought her out onto the balcony. Though I’d never feared death, having men shot dead in my own home was a memory I preferred not to dwell on. I’d always kept my work and private life separate, but their coldblooded deaths had encroached on that and impacted the tranquility of my home.

I was only glad I was in the position to compensate the deceased soldiers’ families. Not that any amount of money could replace a loved one, I’d learned that when my oldest brother, Nico had been executed.

Locking that memory away once again, I pressed a button on the wall next to the bifold doors, bullet proof glass then rising from behind the railings. At her puzzled look, I explained, “We’re protected out here now.”

“Is that a new addition?” she asked, nodding at the glass.

“It is,” I acknowledged. “I’ve added a few extra precautions.”

She sat on the chair I drew out for her. I chose the one opposite, wanting to drink in her gorgeous green eyes, her full lower lip and the sweet bowed top, her wide brow and flawless cheekbones that were highlighted by her blazing red hair she’d pulled back into a messy bun.

I could so easily fall for her.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart rate surging into a gallop as I examined the idea and allowed it to expand inside my head. Was love truly a possibility for someone like me?

No. Have you forgotten? You’re a killer, a madman. You’re not deserving of any woman’s heart. Nor do you want her to crush yours.

If she was aware of my heightened emotions she didn’t show it. She began talking, her soothing voice soon settling my equilibrium and bringing forth words that I rarely voiced. She was an enigma; she made me want to contribute to the conversation, made me want to articulate the thoughts in my head.

My family would have been fascinated to see me like this. I’d always been the spectator, the silent but focused one. I rarely discussed my thoughts or feelings, rarely showed anything at all beyond my ability to kill or my primitive need for sex.

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