Page 265 of Legacy
“Your skin…” My gaze drifts down. “Sun-kissed divinity. Warm. Radiant.Alive.Like you’ve been touched by sunlight and loved by the earth itself.”
My fingers trace the slope of her shoulder. “Soft, smooth… but there’s strength underneath. I know. I’ve felt it wrapped around me.”
I look back up, softer now. “You’re not porcelain. You’re gold. Grounded. Forged through fire—and still gleaming.”
She blushes, and I groan under my breath. “When that happens? That blush? It’s like fire blooming under honeyed light. If she ever tried to paint that, it would ruin me all over again.”
My hands slip to her hips, grounding myself in her, inthis.
“Your body?” I murmur, letting my gaze fall to her thighs, the curve of her waist under my palms. “I’d tell her to paint a goddess. All curves and warmth and grace—but make sure she sees the strength too. You’re not a passive beauty. You’re power wrapped in silk and fire.”
I press a kiss to the hollow of her throat, breathing her in.
“And if she can’t capture the way your voice sounds when you say my name…” My lips brush up to her ear, voice barely a breath, “then she hasn’t painted you right at all.”
I let the silence wrap around us.
“Should I write that down for her?” I murmur.
“Or whisper it again later… when you’re spread out and glowing beneath me?”
Her breath hitches like she’s trying to think of something smart to say, but for once, she’s got nothing.
Just wide eyes, a flushed chest, parted lips, like a question she can’t quite ask.
“Damn, Angelo…” she breathes, voice soft and a little shaky.
Her hands slide up my chest. “Just take me to bed already.”
I grin. “Gladly.”
Her laugh escapes before she can stop it—low, incredulous, like she’s not used to being the one flustered.
I shift beneath her, hands locking around her thighs as I stand, lifting her in one smooth motion. Her arms fly around my neck, laughter trailing behind us as I carry her down the hall.
Dio.That look on her face.
I drink it in, like the first taste of redemption after a brutal war.
And I already know—
I’ll never go back to starving.
Chapter 44
Scarlet
Waking up to Angelo every morning has its perks, especially when I wake up to his face between my legs.
I didn’t expect going back to studying would make me miss him this much. It’s stupid, how much I miss him just being here. The smell of his cologne when he kisses the top of my head before leaving, the way his muscles flex as he buttons his shirt, the way he glances back at me like he hates to leave, even though we both know he has to.
I hate that I look up from my flashcards hoping he’ll be there. I hate that I keep checking the clock to see how long it’s been since he texted. I hate that my body remembers his before my mind does.
I’m supposed to be studying torts, not thinking about how his eyes darken when I call him Don Amato, or the way his voice goes low when he calls me Tesoro.
Instead, I’m sitting here, flipping flashcards like they can compete with the fire in his gaze; while he’s out handling Sovereigns business and putting out fires that never seem to stop.
Most days, it’s Gio or Enzo who lingers in the penthouse, pretending not to watch me. Angelo says guards are hidden around the building, watching everything, but it’s Gio I don’t trust. Not since that lie about Clara. Maybe he didn’t know, maybe it wasn’t a lie just an assumption. But something about him feels off now, like he’s watching for the wrong reasons.
