Page 100 of Blood Debt
Her nails scrape lightly along my back, and the sound she makes—half moan, half whisper of my name—shoots straight through me. I grip her a little firmer, loving the way her breasts fill my hands, and quicken my pace again. The bed shifts under us, her breath coming fast, and all I can think about is giving her more, pushing her right over the edge with me.
I kiss along her shoulder, up the side of her neck, catching the taste of her skin between breaths I can’t quite catch.
“God…I love you,” I gasp against her ear, my voice breaking on the words. She moans in response, pushing back into me, and it makes me lose my rhythm for a beat because it’s so much—her body, her voice, the way those words feel leaving my mouth.
I kiss her again, messy and desperate, catching the corner of her mouth as I thrust deeper, my hips slamming into hers with the kind of need I can’t hold back anymore. “I love you…fuck—” I choke out, kissing her harder, like the only way to get the feeling out of me is to pour it straight into her.
I slam into her again, my cock buried deep, the wet heat of her gripping me so tight it steals my breath. I bend forward, mouth finding the side of her neck, kissing and biting, tasting the salt on her skin.
My chest is pressed hard against her back, my arms wrapping around to grab her tits, filling my hands with the warm weight of them. I squeeze, thumbs rolling over her nipples, and feel the way her whole body shudders around my cock.
She turns her head, and I catch her mouth with mine. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and gasps, my hips still pounding into her, each thrust pulling another sweet, desperate sound from her throat.
I can’t stop touching her—one hand still on her tits, the other sliding down to her clit, rubbing hard as I keep driving into her. Her pussy clenches tighter with every pass, the slick squeeze making me groan into her mouth.
Her moans are getting louder, matching the quick, sharp snap of my hips. I hold her tighter, kiss her harder, fucking her like I need every inch of her wrapped around me, like I’ll never get enough.
****
Her back is to me when she says it—
“I’m sleeping in my room tonight.”
The words are simple, but the way her shoulders stay perfectly straight, the way her chin tips slightly higher, tells me she’s made up her mind. My eyes track the curve of her neck, the knot of her robe tied too tightly, the way her fingers fidget once before going still again. We just finished having sex, seconds ago. She just got off my body.
She’s leaving my bed, my room…maybe me. My gaze roams her face when she glances at me—her expression guarded, mouth set in something polite and noncommittal. Not cold, not warm. Just unreadable. And that’s worse.
I push myself up on one elbow, studying every flicker in her eyes like they might betray her. The pounding in my ears drowns out reason. If I told her to stay, would she? If I reached for her now, would she turn back—or pull away?
Instead, I nod. “It’s fine.” My voice is steady, but it tastes wrong, like I’m lying to both of us.
She walks to the door, each step neat and measured. My jaw tightens. Something in me refuses to let her go without one last tether.
“We can have a good life together,” I say. It’s almost a plea, almost a command.
Her hand pauses on the door handle for a fraction of a second, but she doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t give me anything—no look, no word.
Then the door closes with a muted click, and I’m staring at the wood grain like it just took her from me. My hands curl into fists in the sheets. My gut says she’s going to betray me, but my chest…my chest still wants to believe she won’t.
The click of the door is still echoing when I swing my legs over the side of the bed, pulling on my shirt in sharp, quick motions. The air still smells faintly of her skin. I’m buttoning my trousers when the door opens again—this time without a knock.
Matteo fills the frame, his usual smirk absent. He takes one look at me, then at the empty space where she was moments ago, and rolls his eyes.
“I followed your orders,” he says, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Took your father to the safe house. He’s settled.”
I nod once, the movement clipped, my hands already reaching for my jacket.
His gaze sweeps the room again, narrowing. “Where’s your bride?”
I don’t answer. Not because I don’t know—but because I don’t like the truth.
Matteo’s jaw ticks. “She’s going to steal it, isn’t she?”
I meet his eyes then, cold and unwavering. “I’ll handle her.”
He studies me for a beat, his mouth pulling into something that’s not quite a smile. “I’ll keep watch.”
He turns to leave, and I catch the faintest trace of challenge in his voice. The kind that says he’s not convinced I can stop her. The kind that says he’s ready to do it his way if I fail.
