Page 46 of Mafia Heir's Broken Vows

I take a quick shower, the hot water stinging my bruises and my swollen eye. Once I'm clean, I change into a hoodie and leggings, needing to feel warm and comfortable. When I go back downstairs, Alessandro has been moved to his bedroom.

The fire burns fresh wood, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Shadows flicker on the walls, stretching and curling, lighting the darkness. He's on the bed, stitched up, but he still looks ragged and filthy from the fight. I slip into the bathroom and warm up some water. I return with a damp cloth and kneel beside Alessandro, carefully peeling his cut-open shirt away from his body, trying not to touch his wound. I clean the blood and mess from his skin, wiping the smaller grazes and bruises. He hisses through his teeth, but he doesn't stop me.

I rinse the cloth and come back to wipe his face. His lip is split, and a dark bruise blooms under his left eye. He's going to have a black eye to match mine for a few days.

Seeing him like this—vulnerable, almost human—terrifies me. He was always larger than life to me, even when I was young. This indestructible man who couldn't be touched.

"You shouldn't have come in there alone like that. You should have waited for Enzo," I whisper, pressing the cloth gently against the gash in his lip. "It was stupid."

His dark eyes lock onto mine, steady and unyielding. "I wasn't going to let him take you from me. Love makes you do stupid things," he mumbles against the cloth, trying to push it away with his hand. His knuckles are bloody and blue from punching Marco.

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back. "You could have died. He wanted to kill you."

His hand moves slowly, brushing my cheek, his thumb catching a stray tear. "But I didn't. And now you're here."

"I'm here, and I will take care of you. But I can still tell you how stupid that was," I reply, trying to lighten the mood between us.

"I'll take care of you as soon as I heal," he jokes back. "The doc said nothing vigorous. He gets pissy if he has to come back." I can only imagine how he knows that. The old man even said, 'last time,' how many times has he patched him up?

The tenderness in his touch, the raw honesty in his voice, breaks something in me. I lean into his palm, closing my eyes for a breath, letting the warmth of him seep into me.

I move to sit on the bed next to him, my legs tucked under me. The tension between us is undeniable—it's the same as the first time he kissed me. Electric. A connection I can't resist.

"I can't lose you," he says, barely above a whisper.

My hand finds his, intertwining our fingers. "You won't."

He holds his breath, his gaze fixed on mine. And before I can think, his lips are on mine—soft, searching, yet filled with an urgency that sets my pulse racing.

The kiss is not soft—it'sfierce, desperate, a clash of fear and relief, of love buried under years of pain. His hands tangle in my hair, pulling me impossibly closer, as though afraid I might vanish if he lets me go.

I trace my hands over his bare chest, fingers grazing over every scar, every mark. He flinches when I brush over his fresh wound, but he doesn't stop me. His lips move to my jaw, and my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"You're hurt," I gasp, trying to stop him and to catch my breath. "The doctor said no."

His hands grip my waist, pulling me closer. "I never listen to that old fossil." I do not need him bleeding out all over again, once in a day is enough. I push him back gently, straddling his lap, and meet his gaze. His pupils are wide with desire, he's devouring me with his eyes, and his hands grip my hips.

"I need you," he murmurs, his voice raw.

I lean in, brushing my lips against his. "I'm yours to take."

He lifts me effortlessly,despite being hurt, and peels off my leggings. Alessandro rolls me over and lays me down carefully, his body hovering above mine, his breath soft against my lips. His eyes search my face as if needing permission. He never needed my permission. I have always been his.

I cup his face, pulling him down into a slow, lingering kiss. "What are you waiting for?" I tease bucking my hips beneath him, my body suddenly alive with need.

His lips curl into the faintest smile. "I'm not waiting, just taking my time." He kisses the soft skin on my neck, and I shiver. His hands explore slowly, mapping every inch of me as though he needs to remember I'm real. I can feel the passion, the want, the heated desire—no matter how sore he is, his need for this is bigger.

He plays with my hard nipples, teasing, tugging, rolling them between his fingers, driving my whole body crazy. His hard cock rests against my soaking wet pussy, just brushing against me, I want more. I tilt my hips up, silently begging him to fill me up. I moan at the movement against my sensitive clit.

"Please." I breathe, begging him for more. He edges closer to coming, then pulls back—still not inside me. I am a soaking mess of desperation.

"Please fuck me," I moan, "I need you."

"Tell me again." He growls, the tip of his cock at the entrance of my pussy. "Tell me to fuck you." God his dirty talk makes me want him even more… Passion, need and hunger take over and he pushes into me before I can beg him again. He kisses and bites at my neck, going slowly at first, long deep, drawn-out strokes. "Fuck." He growls in my ear making my pussy squeeze tight around him. I grab him and forget he's hurt, but he doesn't stop; he just grabs my wrists and pins them above my head with one hand giving me every inch of him.

I love his weight on me, the sensation of being crushed under his gorgeous body. I want him—all of him. Alessandro moves slowly, but with force—I feel every stroke as it makes me shudder with the threat of my own release. It's like he's gone way beyond my pussy, so deep he's fucking my soul. He looks at me, and we come together pure—raw—bliss. My body is shaking, pussy clamped around his cock as he empties himself inside me.

He rolls off of me, collapsing on the bed, pulling my body beside his, not letting go, and passes out from the exhaustion—and injury—and sex. He sleeps for nearly two days. I check on him and Enzo has been by a few times. He needs to rest, to heal—the world can wait a few days.

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