18. Leon
18
LEON
T he drive to the city outskirts is a blur, pain radiating from the knife wound in my side with every bump in the road.
Mia sits stiff beside me, her knuckles white as she grips the steering wheel. She barely speaks, her focus sharp, but I catch the way she glances at me every few seconds, her worry etched across her face.
It takes me a moment to realize where we are when we pull to a stop. Mia is moving the second she cuts the ignition, and the older man runs to her aid in an instant.
“You’re lucky she got you here when she did,” Marco mutters as he presses gauze to the deep gash in my abdomen. “Another inch and that blade would’ve punctured something vital.”
Lucky. I bite back a bitter laugh.
Mia hasn’t left the room, not even when Marco snapped at her to stay out of his way. She stood back, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on me the entire time like her focus alone could keep me alive.
When Marco finally stitches me up and straps a makeshift dressing over my side, he turns to her. “He’s stable for now, but this isn’t a hospital. He needs rest, clean bandages, and someone to keep him from tearing those stitches.”
She nods sharply, already moving to help me sit up. I don’t miss the way her hand recoils when Marco reaches for her.
“Mia,” he says her name like a plea.
“Thank you for saving him,” her voice is cool. “I’ll take it from here.”
The man looks desperately at his daughter for a moment longer before sagging into his chair with his head between his hands.
“Come on,” she whispers as she helps me up. Neither of us looks back at the older man as we leave.
The ride back to the brownstone is substantially slower than the last. My body feels like lead, exhaustion dragging me under. Mia says nothing, but I can feel the tension rolling off her, thick and suffocating.
When she pulls up in front of the house, she’s out of the car before I can even open the door.
“Let’s get you to bed,” she says, her voice brisk as she slings my arm over her shoulder and helps me up the steps.
Stairs, as it would turn out, are not a good combination with new stitches, but eventually, I manage to make it to my room, grunting in relief as I lie back on the pillows and close my eyes.
I’m not sure how long I lie there, but when I open my eyes again, Mia is still hovering over the bed. Her beautiful face is pale and battling through a myriad of emotions.
“Mia…”
“I’m sorry,” the words burst out of her with alarming volume. “You shouldn’t have jumped in front of the knife.”
“I wasn’t about to let you die,” I counter firmly. “You should have left when I told you to.”
She shakes her head. “I wasn’t about to let you die either.”
“Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a hypocrite?”
She smiles, and it breaks something within me to watch as this pushes her over the edge. Her hand clamps over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. I want to hold her so desperately. The longing is more painful than the stab wound in my side.
“I’m s-sorry. I’ll go.”
“No, please.” The words feel oddly familiar on my tongue. “Stay with me.”
She hesitates a moment, her eyes bright with tears, before turning to switch off the lights. The relief of the feeling of the bed dipping as she slides in beside me is unparalleled.
The darkness offers us something more than a reprieve from the horrors of the day—it’s a space where actions feel less consequential. My arm slides around her shoulders, bringing her as close to my body as I can manage.
She must think so, too, as she doesn’t protest, gently burying her head into my shoulder.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” I confess into the darkness. “When you attacked Rubio, I thought I was going to have to watch you die.”
“Leon…” A warm hand rests itself against my cheek.
“I don’t think I would survive it.”
A thumb brushes against my skin. “Sleep. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.”
She stays. She stays the whole day. Stays the next day, too. At some point, I think she must have left because her clothes changed. When I ask her about it, she tells me she moved a few things into her room.
She doesn’t sleep there, though. Every night, she fusses over my wound and lingers by the bed until I utter those same words again.
“Stay with me.”
And she turns off the light and slides next to me.
It’s both the most glorious experience and the most brutal. To have her so close, yet so unfairly far.
Rationally, I know it’s the guilt that makes her stay. I know it’s her sense of duty and obligation.
But in the fragile truce between us, it’s so, so easy to imagine it could be something more.
She tells me her father confessed to threatening her himself. I hadn’t thought Marco would have it in him, but the act had clearly left a painful smear on their relationship.
I don’t pry. I don’t ask any more than she’s willing to share. But there’s this traitorous thought that screams what are you waiting for?
She lies in my bed every night. I feel her warmth buried in my side. I feel her heartbeat. She’s alive and well and her heart is beating and beating. She’s safe. It’s enough to drive me mad with longing. My self-control champs at the bit as I reign it into submission.
The following week, Teo visits with an update. Of course, that update is that there is no update. Only that the Cartel has made a retreat and that our marriage is now common knowledge.
“You’re both likely at the top of their hit list,” Teo explains as he leaves. “I suggest you lie low for a while.”
I wave him off. It’s not as if I can do much else. The wound is healing well, but Mia has been treating me like I’ve been made of glass, refusing to let me do much more than walk down the corridor and back.
That night, when she frets at my side, I relay the news.
“Good.” She bobs her head. “You shouldn’t be doing anything but resting anyway.”
I roll my eyes at her. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ve been cleared for physical activity.”
“Light physical activity,” Mia counters.
And God, she looks incredible when she pouts like that, with her arms crossed under her breasts and that adorable wrinkle between her eyebrows as she frowns. It’s enough to drive a man mad.
“Then it’s a good thing that there are many ways to perform light physical activity.”
The words escape before I have much time to register what I’ve said. The flirtatious undertones linger between us as if waiting to drop like a lead balloon.
Mia blinks a couple of times, her mouth dropping into that perfect “O” shape that is far too kissable for its own good. She drops down, perching on the edge of the bed next to me.
“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” she replies quietly.
I laugh to try to break the tension. “You’re my wife.”
“Leon.” It’s a warning.
I sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Her green eyes flash to mine in annoyance. “It’s not that.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that if I have to sleep by your side for another night without sucking your cock, I might actually go insane,” she half-yells. “And I can’t do that because you’re still hurt, and I?—”
I’ve already bridged the gap between us. Already reached for her neck to pull her in.
I’m a man entirely possessed as I press her mouth to mine.
And dear fucking God.
I’ve missed this. I miss it even in those brief moments when my lips aren’t pressed to hers in order to take a breath. I wish I could cut out my own lungs and just kiss her forever.
She tastes divine as I lick into her mouth. She opens up for me gorgeously as I explore every inch of it. Our tongues are battling for dominance as she makes a sound so delicious I want to taste every decibel.
Her hands find themselves in my hair, tugging me ever closer. Not close enough. Never close enough. But the feeling of her body pressed into mine makes me feel complete for the first time in weeks.
“We shouldn’t,” she hisses as my mouth trails down her neck. “We shouldn’t do this.”
I respond with my teeth, and she squirms delightfully as I suck on the flesh below her ear. Branding her, claiming her. I want her to look in the mirror for the rest of her life and know that she belongs right here with me.
“If I don’t have you right now, I will go insane.”
“We can’t, we?—”
I silence her with another filthy kiss, dragging on her bottom lip with my teeth. “I’m going to need you to stop fussing and start concentrating on how you’re going to get your pretty little mouth around my cock.”
She whimpers at my words, submitting herself entirely to the arms that have wrapped themselves around the small of her back.
“Come here,” I say as I help her onto the bed. Her knees land on either side of my waist so that she’s straddling me properly.
Her head dips down to kiss me again, giving me a delightful eyeful down her shirt. My fingers begin to work the buttons open of their own accord.
She does the rest of the work for me, shrugging out of the material as she sucks crudely on my tongue. It’s a demonstration of what's to come.
Yet she’s still careful, still gentle with her touches, cautious not to jostle me too much as she makes sinful noises against my mouth and grinds down on my hardening cock. It would be infuriating if it weren’t so fucking thoughtful.
She withdraws suddenly to continue the path of kisses down my torso, and it feels like she takes the air with her.
My hand clasps her wrist to get her to stop, and she looks up in confusion.
“You first.”
Her pupils dilate as she licks her lips. “I’m not sure?—”
“Sit on my fucking face, Mia.”
She doesn’t need to be told again, shuffling up my body instead of down and sliding her panties off in the process. Her skirt rides all the way up her waist.
“That’s a good girl,” I hum my approval against her thigh. “Doesn’t it feel good to do as you’re told?”
She whimpers slightly as my tongue darts across her skin.
“Hold onto the headboard with both hands,” I instruct her as she hovers tentatively over me. My breath tickles her core, and I can practically taste the wetness that has already accumulated there.
“Let me taste you.”
She sits with a noise of surrender, and I immediately gorge myself on her fruit.
It’s thick and needing and wanting and oh, so eager for attention. I lick along her entirely, stopping only to pay special attention to her sensitive clit, circling it lightly over and over so that my tongue almost feels as if it were vibrating.
The results are glorious, and I’m rewarded with movement. Mia’s hips grind against my face as I greedily offer my tongue for friction.
Nothing has ever tasted so good. Nothing ever will.
My hands dig into her ass cheeks hard enough to bruise as I let her chase her pleasure endlessly.
I know the second my tongue stops being enough. Her hands leave the headboard and yank at my hair.
I withdraw entirely. “Put your hands back on the headboard.”
“Leon,” never has my name sounded so beautiful than on her half-broken lips. “Please. I need you. I need more.”
“I know what you need,” I lick her hard, and her back arches back. “I’m going to give it to you. But your hands need to be back on the headboard.”
I make sure to praise her when she deliriously complies. “So receptive to me, aren’t you? So good at following orders.”
I reward her with another lick before returning to her clit. She moans in protest, too distracted to notice my middle finger at her entrance until I’ve plunged into her past the knuckle.
“Oh, fuck!” she cries as I begin to work her hard. My mouth never leaves her sensitive clit, sucking at it while I fuck her with my finger. Then with two.
Then, as my fingers curl inside her, I draw out a groan from her that practically rattles through the room. The thighs around my face begin to tremble, and my mouth replaces my fingers to fuck her one last time with my tongue.
She comes undone on top of me, and I relish every moment of it.
Finally, she dismounts, chest heaving. My hands trail after her, desperate not to be subjected to her absence.
“I need you,” she pants as she moves down the bed. “I need you in my mouth right now.”
I watch in near-stupefied wonder as the woman makes short work of my pants and frees me from my too-tight boxers. She eyes up my length greedily before her tongue darts out to lick carelessly, bottom to top, her lips pressing lightly over my swollen end.
It’s the most sinful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Fuck, Mia,” I groan at those eyes. Those fucking eyes look up at me through hooded lids.
I try to burn the image into my memory.
She holds my gaze as she drops down, and my mind goes entirely blank.
Somewhere in the haze of my subconscious, I’m aware of her groaning around my cock. I’m aware of the way the sounds vibrate across my skin.
I’m aware that she can’t swallow me whole, but she makes up for it with her hands wrapped around my base. I’m aware that her eyes water beautifully as she takes me to the very back of her throat.
A stronger man than me would have let this continue for hours. He would have basked in the glory of this moment for as long as humanly possible.
But I’ve never been a strong man when it comes to Maddison.
I grip her hair in warning, but she doesn’t move an inch, swallowing down my undoing without even flinching as star-filled darkness threatens to cloud my vision.
She sits up on her forearms with a satisfied smirk that I want to kiss straight off her face.
“Satisfied, are you?” I ask, though my voice sounds entirely wrecked.
Mia’s smile only grows as she hums happily, licking her lips. “I’m going to go clean up.”
I groan petulantly. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
She goes to stand, and I make a show of dramatically lying back down, listening to her feet pad into the ensuite as I let the euphoria settle all over my body.
It’s never felt like this before.
No one has ever felt like Mia before.
That woman…this woman…my woman.
My wife.
Mine.
We could do this forever if we wanted. There could be something here beyond sex and obligation. It would be easy. There’s no reason for us not to now, not when I already have my heart halfway through that particular door.
“Leon?”
“Come back to bed,” I moan, missing her and missing her.
“ Leon.”
I finally look up at her, and the smirk drops from my lips when I realize what she’s holding.
“I’m pregnant.”