Chapter 13 Mauricio #2
“Now?” She leans into my touch, green eyes searching mine.
“Now it’s about keeping you alive long enough to actually be free.” The admission costs me. “And that makes every decision more complicated because I’m not calculating acceptable losses anymore. I’m calculating how to protect you specifically, even when that contradicts optimal strategy.”
“Is that a problem?” Her voice is small, uncertain.
“It’s a revelation.” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth. “Because I spent years learning not to care about anything except survival and revenge. But you make me want things I have no right wanting. Safety. Future. Something beyond just burning down what came before.”
Her hands find my chest, fingers splaying over my heart. “What do you want, Mauricio? Really?”
The question hangs between us, dangerous and unavoidable. Outside, dawn breaks in shades of amber and threat. In hours—maybe minutes—every criminal in the city will be hunting us.
But right now, in this moment, there’s just us—two broken people trying to figure out how to be something other than shattered.
“I want you safe.” The honesty comes easier than it should. “I want Sabino destroyed. I want Lorenzo Di Noto to suffer for every threat he made. And I want—” I stop, because saying it makes it real.
“Want what?” She presses closer, and I’m acutely aware of her bare skin against mine, the heat building between us despite the danger closing in.
“I want you. Right now. I want—”
She silences me with a kiss that tastes like hope and desperation braided together.
“I’m yours,” she murmurs against my lips. “For however long we have. So stop calculating risks and start taking what you want.”
I claim her mouth again—deeper, harder, pouring all the fear and possessiveness and hope I’ve been denying into the contact. Her response is immediate, matching my intensity with her own desperate fire.
I pull her on top of me, my cock already hardening as she settles against me with a soft gasp. Her hair creates a curtain around us, blocking out the world and the coming dawn and everything except this.
Thanks to our earlier lovemaking, there are no barriers between us. Only skin against skin. Heat. Need.
“I want to see you,” I murmur against her throat. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
I position her over my cock, letting her feel the hardness, the readiness. Her eyes flutter closed as I enter her slowly—giving her control, letting her set the pace.
But Regina doesn’t want control. Not now.
Her eyes open, and the fire I see there—defiance and desire and absolute trust—steals my breath.
“Fuck me, Mauricio.” Her voice is raw, husky. “Show me I’m alive.”
I’m not gentle this time. There’s no time for slow exploration, for gentle worship. This is claiming, marking, staking a claim against all threats. I drive into her with sharp, deep strokes that make her gasp, her fingers digging into my shoulders to hold on.
“Mauricio—”
“Look at me.” I catch her jaw, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I want to see you when you come.”
My thumb finds her clit, circling with the kind of focused pressure that makes her shudder. Her hips move to meet my rhythm, and suddenly we’re perfectly synchronized. We’re just two bodies in desperate, beautiful motion.
The build is faster this time, fueled by adrenaline and fear and the crushing awareness that every moment might be our last. Each thrust is a declaration, each touch a promise, each gasp a rebellion against the men who would own or destroy us.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” My voice is rough velvet. “So responsive. And you utterly belong to me.”
“Yours,” she gasps, her head falling back as pleasure builds to an unbearable peak. “Only yours.”
The words undo me. I increase the pressure on her clit, thrusting deeper, harder, until her body arches with a cry that’s part pleasure, part surrender.
“Come for me, Regina.” My command is low, demanding. “Now.”
She shatters—clamping down around me, her orgasm washing through her in waves that make my vision white. I follow her over with a groan, my release flooding her, sealing this connection, making permanent what we’ve started between us.
I hold her afterward—both of us trembling, breathing hard, marked by each other in ways that will show for days. Her head rests over my heart, and I feel her pulse gradually slow from frantic to something approaching calm.
“We should move,” she murmurs against my chest, but neither of us shifts.
“Five more minutes.” I tighten my arms around her, memorizing how this feels. “Then we go to war.”
“Together?”
“Always together.” The promise feels dangerous to make, but I mean it with every scarred piece of my soul. “You’re mine now, Regina. Whatever comes next—whatever Sabino throws at us—we face it as partners.”
“Partners who occasionally have earth-shattering sex?” A smile enters her voice.
“Frequently have earth-shattering sex,” I correct. “I’m not a man who does anything halfway.”
Her laugh is soft, genuine, the sound of someone who’s finally starting to believe freedom might actually be possible. “Good. Because I’m done with half-measures too.”
We lie there as full dawn spills through the window, gilding everything it touches. Outside, the city’s waking up to our death warrants—twenty million reasons for Regina to disappear, five million for me to stop breathing. By noon, every desperate bastard with a gun will be hunting us.
But here, wrapped around each other, we’re untouchable. Temporary sanctuary before the storm, stolen moments of peace before battle.
“I’m going to kill your father,” I tell her quietly. “Not for revenge anymore. Not even for justice. But because he hurt you, and no one gets to hurt what’s mine without consequences.”
“Fake father,” she corrects softly. “He’s a monster. One we’re going to destroy together.”
I kiss her forehead. It’s my way of sealing the promise with a kiss that speaks louder than words.
Then we rise, dress, and prepare for war—two people who’ve learned that sometimes survival means burning everything down and building something new from the ashes.