Page 42 of Devour
But I crave contact. I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his lower back. He groans into my mouth, and the sound ignites something deep inside me. The pressure makes him falter slightly, and some of his weight sinks onto me.
His tight abs press flush against my core, and I shamelessly grind against him, my clit dragging over the hard ridges of his stomach through my soaked panties. The friction is maddening.
I move faster, chasing the pleasure. I know I’m leaving a wet trail across his skin but I don’t care. I’ve never needed something so badly. All sense, all shame, vanishes.
The kiss grows deeper. Hotter. More desperate as I take control of it sucking on his tongue, devouring him as I ride him harder. My thighs tremble, the coil inside me winding tighter, tighter until it finally snaps.
I come with a shudder, gasping into his mouth as wave after wave crashes through me. And he just holds himself there, still not moving, still not touching except for the fire in his kiss.
When I finally come back to my senses, he pulls away. I brace myself, expecting him to take what he wants now, expecting him to flip me over and take me from behind like some claiming ritual. But he doesn’t.
He untangles himself from my limbs, peels away from the bed, and walks to the bathroom like he can’t wait to get away from me.
I stay frozen in place, my body still trembling, thinking maybe he just needs a second. But then I hear the shower turn on.
My brow furrows in confusion. I know he wants me there’s no denying the evidence straining against his boxers. So why leave?
The water shuts off a few minutes later, and I hear the quiet slap of his bare feet as he moves into the adjoining walk-in closet. Drawers open. Soft movements follow.
Suddenly, shame crashes over me shame for how wanton I’d just been, when it was only yesterday that he forced me into this marriage. I should hate him. Not just for the marriage, but for forcing this life onto me… onto my child.
I’m married to a freaking mobster. A killer. A manipulator. And yet, the terrifying truth is I think I might stillbe in love with him. Even knowing he’s not the same person I once gave my heart to.
It’s only been a day, and already I’m dangerously close to giving it to him all over again. I pull the fallen covers over my body and curl onto my side, facing away from the door.
The blanket is drawn up to my neck like a shield, as if it can protect me from the hollow ache inside.
A few minutes later, I hear him return from the closet. I know he’s fully dressed, the soft click of his watch clasp gives it away. My body tenses, bracing for something—anything. A word. A touch. A command. But nothing comes.
Then the bedroom door clicks shut. And he’s gone. I sit up slowly, pushing the covers off my body, confusion and something dangerously close to rejection twisting in my chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Luca
Ihadn’t meant to sleep in, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt this kind of peace. A rare, fleeting sense of fulfillment. Maybe it’s because she’s beside me. Her warmth. Her scent. The reminder that I have a son… a family.
Everything feels right for the first time in years. And I had to go and fuck it up. By touching her. By pretending, even for a second, that she was mine when I know she only responded to my touch because I forced it on her. Not because she truly wants me.
I shut the bedroom door behind me, careful not to let it slam though part of me wants the noise. I want the impact. I want something to break, so it doesn’t have to be me.
My jaw clenches, my hands ball into fists at my sides as I stand in the hallway, staring at nothing. She came undone for me. Even after everything I’ve done, everything I am she still wrapped herself around me like I was worthy of love.
Like she wanted the monster. Her kiss didn’t soothe it ignited. A molten fire tearing through the hollow parts of me I thought were devoid of emotion.
And God help me; I wanted her back. More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I was one thrust away from losing control. From claiming her not just as my wife, but as mine in every freaking way. Mind, body, soul. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Because if I take her now, while she’s still mourning the life I stole from her, it won’t be love. And I’m a selfish bastard who wants it all.
I drag in a slow, punishing breath and start walking. Each step feels like I’m hauling my guilt behind me like a corpse. I don’t know if I’m a better man for stopping or a worse one for wanting her that badly in the first place.
But I do know one thing. She thinks I walked away because I didn’t want her. She’s wrong. I want everything, not just her body. I want her heart, her soul. And I’ve only had a taste of it—but it’s already haunting me.
The way she looked at me after the kiss, the way she clung to me… it felt real. And now I’m starving for more. This life—the life of a mobster is a fucking gamble.
I could get sniped, stabbed, or blown to pieces any damn day. So if I see even a sliver of happiness, I’m taking the shot. I turn down the west wing to check on my son before heading downstairs. I’m met by Griselda.
“Good morning,” she says, quickly ushering me into the kitchen before I can wave her off, I prefer to eat out, but she won’t hear of it.
