Page 37 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

She glanced over her shoulder. “First of all, you have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do,” her voice was unperturbed, dismissing me with her scolding look. “And second, I’m itching my back. Unless you volunteer to be my pool boy and scratch-”

I was behind her in one heartbeat, two seconds, and three strides.

“Sure, I volunteer,” I rasped in her ear. “I volunteer to scratch your itch.”

She was getting under my skin. Fuck, she has been under my skin from the moment my eyes met her sparkling gaze three years and nine months ago.

My callused palm placed against her back, I felt her stiffen at my touch. She hated my fucking guts. I waited, expecting for her to move away from me but she remained still, almost as the two of us dared each other who’d stop the connection first. It wouldn’t be me because I was finally touching her bare, soft skin. I have been itching to touch her since I found her.

I would take more from her. She’d sleep in my bed tonight.

“I want you to get rid of that hair color,” I growled. My voice was rougher than I intended. It was on the tip of my tongue to bark at Ella and Massimo to get lost so I could fuck my wife right here and right now. I didn’t give a shit who could see or hear us.

This need to bury my cock inside her was clawing at me, demanding I be sated.

Chapter Twelve

Grace

Istood still, Luciano’s warm palm against my back. I hated how it made my skin burn, the tingling sensation shooting throughout my body, my blood sizzling with need.

It is not for his touch, I tried to convince myself. It was a natural reaction to have a physical reaction after feeling man’s hand on me after so many years.

I had to fight the urge to close my eyes and lean back into his touch. My heart thundered in my chest, excitement and adrenaline mixing together. Luciano Vitale would end up costing me more than my life if I lowered my guard. I’d stick around till the annulment came through, then we would run and never look back.

“I have to say, Luciano,” I started, although my voice was slightly high-pitched. “You suck as a pool boy. I’ve had so much better. So either scratch the spot or step away from me.”

“Scared, Tesoro?” he whispered the question into my ear. His breath was hot, igniting my blood with each syllable.

That was the most terrifying part. I didn’t feel fear, only a burning desire that would turn me into ashes at any second. The need to feel his hands all over my skin wiped any reason or sanity, leaving me only with want. This aching want for this man… the ache only he could sate.

“Mamma,” my son’s voice woke me up from the haze and impending doom under my husband’s touch.

I shook off his touch and ran to Matteo. “Hey, buddy,” I lifted him up into the air. “How was the playground?”

“Fun.”

My eyes shifted to Luciano’s father. “Thanks for taking him to the playground.”

He grinned, and it struck me how much my son looked like his father and grandfather. The resemblance was plain as day. Luciano was a perceptive, smart man, and I feared he’d see it any moment. Each second around these men was a danger. We needed to be out of here before those two figured out who Matteo’s father was.

“Boy likes the swings,” the old Matteo announced. “Davvero?” he asked his grandson.Right?Matteo nodded eagerly, his whole face lit up from happiness. “But now we are hungry for lunch.”

Matteo wiggled out of my arms and ran up to Luciano’s father. “Nonno, Nonno.”

Each time I heard Matteo call outNonnoto Luciano's father, a pang of regret hit me. It felt like I robbed him of the knowledge that he had a grandchild. NotlikeI robbed him… I did, but it wasn’t all my fault. His son was to blame too.

“I’ll go ahead and feed him,” I said in a strained voice. “He is full of energy.”

Luciano’s father just shrugged his shoulders. “I like it. He reminds me of Luciano when he was that age.”

I swallowed hard, my mouth desert dry. I always thought Matteo was Luciano’s twin. Nonno just confirmed it. Did he suspect? Luciano’s father was very perceptive. After all, his son got it from him.

Although when it came to me, my husband was blind as a bat,I thought sarcastically.

I wanted to honor Luciano’s father when I named our son. But I believed I’d never see him again, any of them again. Now I pondered whether it was a smart thing to do. I watched my toddler walk away from me with his grandfather, hand in hand, in the direction of the kitchen. The youngest generation and the oldest.

Damn it, I didn’t want Nonno to experience more loss. Or Matteo. This had to end as soon as possible so we could all move on and leave all this behind once and for all.

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