Page 76 of Lord of the Dark

His words were cutting, yet in that moment, he laid bare something raw with startling emotion. "I'm here with you," he finally said, quieter now, almost a whisper in the silence that followed. "Not because I have to be. Because I want to be."

I stared at him. His eyes burned with restrained feeling. His hands—usually so controlled—rested on his knees, but I could see the tension in his fingers. I was truly getting under his skin.

Alessandro leaned back, dragged a hand down his face with an almost imperceptible shake of his head before pinning me with those dark eyes.

"You realize, Fiona, while we're sitting here, I should be in Colombia right now. The biggest cartel's muscling in on my operations, and my man on the ground's turned into their fucking air traffic controller. There's a situation there demanding far more attention than Carter's petty Miami games. Yet here I am." His gaze burned. "Here. Because I want you. Not Carter. Not this goddamn contract. You. Christ, how many more signs do you need before it finally clicks?" He paused, his stare turning razor-sharp with a raw, unfiltered honesty that forced me to absorb every syllable. "It fucking infuriates me," hecontinued, "that you let some nobody like Vaughn into your bed. A man who's not just a complete waste of space, but unworthy of someone like you. And yet you doubt me?"

I flinched slightly, his words landing like physical blows, but he gave me no opening to retaliate.

"Carter's nothing compared to me. Nothing. He uses you because he needs you—because without you, he's weak. I—" He halted, his gaze leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I'm sitting here. In your apartment. On your goddamn couch." A beat. "I'd rather watch Colombia burn than lose sight of you for even a moment."

The air left my lungs.

His voice remained utterly calm, but carried a weight that stripped all pretense—no performance, just devastating truth. As if he'd only just realized how much I meant to him. And that realization was his vulnerability.

His words reverberated through me, an aftershock of emotion and honesty I'd never expected from him. Alessandro had just let his walls crumble—for me. The raw, unfiltered truth of his words struck me deeper than anything ever had. My heart pounded wildly, and for a moment, I felt utterly overwhelmed by the weight of what he'd confessed.

He sat rigid on the couch, his eyes dark yet burning with emotion—and something dangerously close to vulnerability. As if he'd just pried open the last locked chamber of his soul and handed me the key.

I couldn't stay still any longer. Slowly, I rose, my movements deliberate, as if each step drew him deeper into my orbit. My eyes never left his, not for a second. When I stood before him, I leaned down, took the folder from his lap, and placed it on the coffee table. Then I turned back to him, settling onto his thighs, feeling his hands instinctively grip my waist—claiming, possessive, refusing to let go. My fingers slid into his hair,tracing the soft skin at his nape as I tilted my head until our faces were so close I could taste his breath.

I kissed him. Deep. Devouring. A kiss that said everything I couldn'tt voice. The longer it lasted, the clearer it became—we'd both admitted truths without speaking a word.

When I finally pulled back, my breath was ragged, my lips burning from the intensity. "Why didn't you say this sooner?" I whispered, my forehead resting against his.

He fisted my hair, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "I'm not a man of pretty words," he admitted with a self-deprecating smirk. "I know how to threaten, negotiate, draw lines. But love letters and sentimental drivel? Not exactly my forte." His voice was rough before he kissed me again, swallowing any reply.

Everything he'd said, everything he'd unleashed in me, detonated between us. His hands tightened on my waist, dragging me flush against him as I arched into his touch. In one fluid motion, he lifted me, flipping us so I was pinned beneath him on the couch, his body caging mine. It was as if he'd finally shed every restraint—and I was ready to match him, to surrender completely to this hunger that had always been more than physical.

"Wait—" I gasped as I felt him slipping into that dangerous, single-minded intensity that made him forget all control. "...I don't think my couch will survive this."

He stilled, hands still gripping my hips, and fixed me with a crooked, amused grin. "And what will survive... this?"

I arched a brow, glancing pointedly at the couch before meeting his gaze again. "The bed? Absolutely not," I murmured, my thoughts racing. "You'd destroy it—and my neighbors would probably call the police."

A low laugh rumbled in his chest as he shook his head. "You should stop worrying about what people think of you."

"I just don't want to get judging stares tomorrow when I takeout the trash because of my—"

His expression shifted. Instantly, everything about him turned darker, more predatory. Charged. His gaze sharpened. "Your screams..." he murmured, as if the mere word threatened his sanity.

In one ruthless motion, his hands slid to my hips, yanking my pants down in a single decisive pull until they hung loose around my ankles. I sucked in a sharp breath, startled by his sudden dominance.

"I want your screams... so loud they hear you throughout the whole damn house." He tore off his sweatpants and shirt in a flash, lifted me by my thighs with his hands, and pressed me hard against the wall with my back. Gasping, I wrapped my legs around his hips, my fingers clawed into his shoulders. I felt the cool plaster against my back, the heat of his skin against my chest. And nothing in between. My fingers dug into his back, I pulled him closer to me as his lips wandered over my neck and I lost myself in the mix of desire and overwhelming closeness. I greedily parted his lips and thrust my tongue purposefully against his, merging them in a wild dance. I dug my nails into his skin without a shred of restraint, my legs tightened around him as he pressed me even higher against the wall. Then he pushed my panties aside and lowered me onto his cock. Moaning, I felt his thick erection stretch me, I couldn’t get enough of this sensation, taking him fully and far too big inside me. His reaction every time to my tightness gave me an intoxicating sense of power over him.

He moved immediately and with a force that slammed me against the wall with every thrust. I clung to him desperately, my hips jerking toward him, craving more. He filled me completely, left no room for anything but him. His grip on my thighs tightened, his movements relentless. I felt my body clench around him, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. Hisbreath was hot on my neck, his panting deep, rough, charged with pure hunger.

My body seemed to function entirely by his rhythm now, pulling him deeper or resisting.

And he didn’t yield. Not for a second. He took me so hard, as if he’d made it his mission to do exactly what I wanted to prevent. Every thrust was an answer to my fear of the neighbors. As if he wanted to prove to me that no wall, no matter how thick, could muffle the sound of what he unleashed inside me.

I bit my lip, tried to stifle the sound building in my throat. Useless.

He heard him. And laughed, a guttural sound.

He pressed me harder against the wall, his hips driving deeper, rhythmic. Every thrust forced another moan past my lips, every restraint growing weaker.

"I want to hear you, Fiona," he rasped in my ear, his voice rough with lust. His hand slid down my spine, gripped my back, forced me closer, forced me to take more, until nothing else mattered but the fire between us. I dug my fingers into his neck, my entire body trembling, wound tight to the point of breaking. It was as if he was tearing out everything I'd ever held back. It was too much—and yet not enough. He filled me completely, left no inch untouched, took me as if he needed to sear this moment into his memory forever.

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