Page 38 of The Ache That Stayed

“Oh yes,” I grunted. “Just like that.”

My one hand braced the wall, and the other fisted her hair. Her nails dug into my thighs as I pushed deeper into her. Moisture gathered at the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin in a messy mix of spit, tears and water while she took more of me.

And Christ—she looked beautiful like this. On her knees for me, eyes glassy, lashes wet, completely unguarded—devoted in a way that hit somewhere deep enough to hurt.

“Merda…” I breathed, thumb brushing beneath her eye gently, catching the wetness there before I gripped her hair tighter and pushed back into her mouth harder, losing the battle to stay controlled.

Her one hand worked at the base, twisting, driving me to the edge. And when she hollowed her cheeks, I knew I was a goner. My balls tightened and my body went rigid. She hollowed her cheeks again, and I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Rox… I’m coming.”

I thrust into her mouth one final time, spilling down her throat with a broken groan against the shower wall, fingers tightening helplessly in her hair while she took everything I gave her without looking away. Devotion and hunger in her eyes undid whatever restraint I had left.

Dio santo,

I loved this woman. At forty-three I should have been predictable. Measured. Slower. Untouchable by this kind of need.

Instead, she made me reckless. Hungry—a man half my age with twice the need.

She met me stride for stride, fire for fire, and somehow always demanded more.

I pulled her up against me and kissed her until neither of us could breathe properly. My fingers slid between her thighs, slowly curling inside her before adding another, stretching her open while she rocked against my hand desperately.

I kept kissing her through every shiver, every fractured sound, until her body finally gave out beneath the pressure and she shattered against my fingers, trembling.

Afterwards, wrapped in each other’s arms on the bed, when her breathing evened, I brushed my thumb along her collarbone.

“Are you sleeping well?” I asked gently.

She nodded.

“Nightmares?”

She hesitated.

“I don’t remember.”

Which meant she was. I watched her face as she pretended to be calm. The way her lashes lowered. The way she turned her mouth away.

I kissed her temple and held her there a second longer than necessary.

“I’ll be back.”

I stepped outside. Santino was near his bike again, tightening something that did not need tightening. He looked up briefly at me, an unreadable flicker in his eyes gone before I could pin it down. The air between us shifted instantly. Whatever softness existed when she was present evaporated.

“You handled it. Neutralised the person.” I said. “You can step back now. I have men watching the perimeter. You stepping in was unnecessary.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Chiddi dui strunzi?” he asked.

My jaw tightened.

“I slipped past them three times since last night.”

There was a tinge of pride yet irritation in his voice.

“Once through the back treeline. Once from the ridge. Once while they were arguing about football.”

I stared at him. He held my gaze steady.