Page 30 of This Thing of Ours

Not letting his guarded stance deter her, she molded herself to his front, wrapping her arms around his waist and settling her cheek against his chest.

It took almost a full minute, but finally, she felt his hands leave his pockets and land on her back, hugging her in return. She heard the gust of air that had his chest deflating as he expelled a deep breath before his cheek landed on the top of her head. “This is a really bad idea,” he gruffly whispered.

Gabby didn’t agree. Being in Marco’s embrace could never be a bad thing.

Gabriella’s fingers softlyskimming his spine. Her full, lush tits pressing into him. Her breath warming his chest through the thin cotton of his shirt. It didn’t take long for Marco to snap.

Dipping to get a grip under her ass, he lifted her off her feet and walked them until her back hit the wall. And didn’t stop until he was pressed flush against her. His mouth found hers a second after that.

The kiss was not gentle. Nor was it sweet. It was more than four years of pent-up desire finally finding an outlet.

He pushed his tongue forward, invading her wet heat. The slickness of her mouth blanketing him in a sexual haze so all he saw was blinding white light behind his closed lids. His dick was so hard it strained against the tight cotton of his underwear and the soft fabric of his slacks. He pressed it into her soft belly and got a moment’s satisfaction. Until even that wasn’t enough.

Groaning down her throat, he pressed a thigh between her legs, wanting to give her a taste of the desire he felt. But even with that, she would never know the extent of what he was feeling.

A moan filled his ears, a soft sexy sound that had his balls tightening. Fuck, it had been too long since he’d been between a woman’s legs.

He wasn’t a saint, but his body knew what it wanted, and that was Gabriella. With her lush curves that enticed in whatever the fuck she wore. Her full, ruby lips he’d envisioned wrapped around his cock more times than he could count. And her big, brown eyes that sucked him in and put him under a spell.

His streghetta,his little witch, had weaved her magic, capturing his heart, and no one else would do.

He ate at her mouth with absolutely no finesse, too overcome by the taste of her, the scent of her, and the feel of her for any semblance of refinement. Their noses bumped, their teeth clacked, and their harsh gasps for breaths intermingled, so he was breathing her in, and she, him.

Pressing into her harder to keep her aloft, he was free to move his hands. They went straight for her tits. More than a handful, the bountiful mounds had been the star of a numerous amount of his dreams—both asleep and awake. That they filled his hands then, was a literal dream come to life.

He squeezed, shaping them with his fingers, and she moaned again, the sound spurring him on. His thumbs found her nipples through the fabric of her t-shirt and bra and they swept across them over and over until they formed impossibly hard peaks.

Her pussy worked his thigh, grinding down on the hard muscle, creating sexy-as-fuck little tremors to ripple through her body. He was so close to coming, he could feel it like an ache. Like a fucking bomb about to explode, the force of which would send him reeling.

Her hands were fisted at his sides, her fingers clutching at the fine Italian fabric of his jacket. Only the best would do. Custom tailored, he needed to represent. The Family was his life. They took him in when life had all but beat him down, and he took an oath and swore his fidelity.

What the fuck was he doing?

He broke contact with her mouth, ripping his away, and she whimpered, her lips chasing his as he raised his head. It took every ounce of his control to take a step back, remove his hands from her body. She slid down the wall and landed unsteadily on her feet, her hands still clutching his jacket for support.

Her chocolate orbs drilled into him, accusing before she even realized the extent of his withdrawal. And hewasgone. So gone, he felt it like a crushing weight against his chest. Gone back into the recesses of his brain where he could admire Gabriella from afar. From a safe distance. From a respectable distance.

As if sensing the full impact of his retreat, she tugged at his jacket and said, “No. I won’t let you do this.”

He steeled himself against the plea in her eyes. The beauty ofher. “It’s done.”

Tears filled her eyes, rimming the edges but not falling, and he almost broke. Almost fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness. Almost took the words back. She was the strongest person he knew, and he’d never seen her cry. That he’d nearly reduced her to do so was more than he could bear.

Then she spoke, and it wasn’t just the word “Please” that was his undoing but also the crack in her voice as she’d said it.

And fuck him if he could deny her.

Chapter Twelve

Gabby stood infront of Marco, waiting for him to speak. As time ticked away, the urge to take back her plea grew. But she wouldn’t. She wanted Marco, and no amount of urgency would change how she felt. She just wished he would say something—anything.

And then he finally spoke. But he didn’t use words, he traced a finger down the side of her face. Starting at her temple, he slowly and softly—almost reverently—caressed a path over her cheek, only stopping when he reached her chin. Then his whole hand was cradling her jaw as his thumb came up to sweep along her lips. The heat in his eyes grew as she watched him catalog her features until it seemed she would combust from their intensity.

“You’re so beautiful, it almost hurts to look at you.” His words, when they finally came, were whisper soft and a warm caress across her face.

Her heart stuttered before picking up speed. His eyes shifted focus to her mouth, and she licked her lips, her tongue inadvertently connecting with the pad of his thumb. She held perfectly still in anticipation to what he would say next, not wanting to miss a single word.

“There’s no going back from this.”

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