9. All About Perspective
nine
She didn’t like any of her test pictures. Originally, Felicity had tried simply imitating the picture Cristiano had taken of himself, as best she could manage, but her much flabbier and more feminine figure did not agree with that angle. So she’d tried other teasing, almost scandalous angles—bare torso with some side boob, no nipple, or curling an arm around her front and sucking in her belly, or even holding the phone lower to get an under boob shot. That last one was more awkward looking than gross, but the rest only emphasized her body fat.
Felicity dropped the phone beside her on the couch in disappointment. Maybe I’ll ask him to buy me some nail polish and just take a foot pic. Was he the kind of guy who would be into that? She had good toes.
She didn’t even hear the door click until his voice filled the air. “What’s wrong, Foxglove?”
Felicity smiled at his silly new nickname and looked over, seeing him striding for her. She hopped to her feet, meeting him just past the sofa and reaching for him like she hadn’t seen him only a handful of hours earlier. “Welcome home.”
Cristiano scooped her up with a hand beneath her ass, continued toward the couch, and dropped onto the middle seat. He settled her so she was straddling him and ran both hands up, under the hem of her shirt. With a press of fingers to her spine he encouraged her to lean into him and caught her lips in a hard kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth.
Felicity squirmed, letting her hands slide up his chest and over his shoulders as she kissed him back. She could feel him growing hard beneath her and she cursed the pants she’d chosen to wear that day.
He broke the kiss, squeezed her hips, and said, “You didn’t answer the question, baby.”
Felicity blinked at him, her head spinning. It took her a full ten seconds to remember the question he’d asked, and then her whole face burned with embarrassment. “It’s really nothing,” she said before she could think better of it.
Cristiano removed a hand from her skin to swat at her butt. “Don’t hide things from me, Felicity.”
She sucked in a breath, shifted her weight a little, and located her phone half pinned to the couch beneath her leg. She showed him the background he’d set for her, as a reminder, and said, “I wanted to reciprocate for you, and give you a sexy picture of me you could use … but I hated everything I tried.”
“Show me.”
Her body clenched with something that felt like anticipation and Felicity opened the gallery app, which held the pictures she hadn’t actually deleted yet. Slowly, she swiped through her handful of attempts, preferring to watch the way his eyes darkened and his pupils dilated as he took in each one. He didn’t say a word, and when she was done, she set the phone aside, feeling insecure.
Cristiano let his gaze follow the movement of the phone for a moment, then returned his attention to her. “You want me to have a sexy picture of you when I’m out, to remember how fucking lucky I am?”
Her heart thundered in her ears. “I certainly don’t want you to forget.”
He growled and stood, setting her on her feet and moving one hand to her wrist. He guided her around to the back of the sofa and said, “Bend over.”
Heat rushed to her face again, but Felicity complied and braced her forearms along the top of the sofa. She felt his hands at her hips, fingers stretching and flexing, and then he reached around for the snap on her pants.
Cristiano leaned over her as his hands worked, his deep voice low and husky as he asked, “You remember our agreement?”
Felicity licked her lips, memories of words and heavy touches and her first taste of his sex running through her mind. “Yes.” As far as she was concerned, her body already belonged to him.
He chuckled, his hands slipping between her legs and teasing her aching center. But his touch didn’t linger, and then he was sliding her pants down her legs, off one and then off the other. He left her panties in place as his hands returned to her skin, gliding up her legs again. He stroked up, over her butt, and pushed her shirt high but made no attempt to remove it outright. “Widen your legs.”
Felicity shuffled her legs apart. The position should have been embarrassing, but he groaned low in his throat and ground against her and she couldn’t feel anything other than excitement.
“Are you ready for me, baby?”
“Yes,” she said. She didn’t know why she was already breathless.
“I better check for myself.” Cristiano slid his fingers underneath her panties, into her folds, and she couldn’t stop her moan. He leaned over her again, murmuring in her ear. “That’s my good girl. All nice and soaked for me.” He slipped two fingers past her entrance and she jolted with a small, sudden bolt of pleasure. “Definitely ready.”
Felicity moaned again, her head dropping to the tops of the couch cushions. “I am,” she gasped. “I’m ready. Cristiano, please.”
He withdrew his fingers, pulled her panties to the side, and she felt his cock slide through her folds. With one hand on her hip, he pressed inside her, moving at a steady pace until he was buried in her core. He gripped her skin harder, a deep, satisfied groan vibrating from him.
It was all she could do not to cry out.
Cristiano held his hand in front of her face, his index and middle fingers glistening. “Clean me while I fuck you.”
Felicity opened her mouth, whimpering a little when he simultaneously began pumping in and out of her. Before she could reach for his hand, he stuck both fingers into her mouth. She was full of him on both ends, yet it was her own taste dominating her tongue. It was so much more erotic than she’d once imagined. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the way his skin felt beneath her tongue and the delicious pleasure building deep inside as he moved against her.
When she was done licking her essence off of him, she opened her mouth again and released his fingers with an unintended wet pop!
Cristiano groaned and bent over her, switching the hand at her hip in order twist one in her hair and find her lips in an awkward, messy, sexy-as-hell kiss. The shift in angle drove him deeper, somehow, and they moaned into each other’s mouths. The kiss broke too soon and he said roughly, “Keep your face forward now until I say otherwise.”
Confusion flickered through her, but Felicity aimed her gaze forward once more. His rhythm didn’t falter, neither did his grip on her hair, and she didn’t know how much longer she would last. His hand left her hip and she heard him mutter a curse under his breath.
His hips slammed a bit harder into hers, driving his cock deeper, and his grip on her hair tightened just enough to force her head up. The combination arched her back and she cried out, her belly fluttering as she teetered on the brink of release. His next murmur washed over her like another caress. “Fuck.”
Felicity clutched at the couch, breathing hard as dots of white began popping behind her eyes. Her toes were barely balanced on the floor from the force of his thrusts and she was fairly certain those were her moans filling the air.
The hand he’d removed from her hip returned to her skin and snaked around, fingers going straight for her clit. His grip on her hair eased a fraction and his lips pressed against her shoulder. “Let me see your beautiful face when you come, baby.”
She glanced over her shoulder, he sank inside her, and his fingers rolled against her clit. It was too much. She barely made eye-contact with him before her body burst, her every sense consumed with pleasure. This time, though, she noticed the way he growled into her skin and shuddered over her seconds later. She noticed the sensation of something hot pouring into her.
His hand moved up to her stomach, his lips found the side of her neck, and he released her hair in favor of sliding that hand back to her hip. He held her in place while they settled, then eased out of her and quickly tugged her panties back into place. He did all that with his lips attached to the lower curve of her neck, and she felt the skin lift slightly before he released her enough to straighten.
Another, softer flush rushed through her. “Did you just—”
Her pants sailed over the back of the sofa and Cristiano pulled her against him, chest-to-chest. “I did. So that while I’m gone, all you have to do is look in the mirror to remember how fucking sexy you are to me.” He slipped his hands under her shirt again, until his palms rested on her skin. “If I have to, I’ll leave hickeys and love bites on your body every single fucking day until you can’t picture yourself any other way. Until associating that image with a screaming orgasm is your automatic response.”
Felicity’s lips dropped open in a silent gasp. Her belly coiled with a fresh wave of want.
He growled and kissed her again, one hand dropping to clamp over her ass. His tongue swept through her mouth, demanding and giving all at once. Then he straightened, chest heaving. “I’ve never hated my job more than I do right now. But I can’t stay.”
She pushed out a breath and smiled, her hands on his chest. “It’s okay. I know you’re busy, and I’m not really wanting for anything. I just—” She hesitated for a split-second. “I feel kind of like a free-loader, I guess.”
Cristiano smirked, kissed her forehead, and reached into his pocket. “Plenty of couples live together, and there’s no reason you should have to worry about work. I’ve got more money than I need.”
Felicity curled her fingers into his shirt as she tried not to openly gape at him. Couples? She’d been trying very hard not to think about what they were, or how Cristiano might be defining them, because in the back of her mind she had been certain she was merely his current fascination. But men who drifted from woman to woman with the changing of their moods didn’t use words like “couples.” Right?
He noticed her stunned silence and arched a brow. “Which part of that was shocking?”
She remembered, the night before, asking him if he would stick around when his current assignment was over and the need for her to be in hiding came to an end. He’d given her a simple response and she’d accepted it at face-value, but looking back, his answer had been almost avoidant. Or at least, it felt that way now.
Felicity held his stare, searching his dark blue eyes. “Last night, when I asked if I would lose you after all this is dealt with, what did you mean when you said ‘I have you’?”
Cristiano slid his phone back into his pocket. “I mean you can count on me, Felicity. I’m not going anywhere.” He cupped her face in his hands as if she weren’t already looking at him. “I mean you are my woman, and by the same token, I am your man. If you run, I will chase. If you push me away, I’ll pace at the boundary line. Because I will never be far.”
Tears stung her eyes and Felicity stretched her arms around his torso. He folded her against him, threading his fingers into her hair again as the other hand splayed over her back. “My own personal guardian stalker,” she teased.
“Damn right.” He lowered his hand some more and pinched her butt cheek. She jumped, but he only said, “In the meantime, let me show you something.”
Taking his hint, Felicity eased back.
Again, he retrieved his phone from his pocket, swiped the screen, and turned it toward her. A proud grin tipped his lips.
Felicity gaped, her eyes bulging. It was a picture of her. Of them. It was a picture of them, having sex against the back of the couch! Very little of Cristiano was visible, and certainly not identifiable. Based on the photo, a man with his pants undone who looked to have thick or sturdy legs was standing behind and railing a woman, with his hand tangled in her hair. His arm came in at an angle, so only the forearm was visible, and she thought maybe if the image was magnified a small portion of his cock could be seen, too.
She, on the other hand, was obviously the focus of the picture. Her ass was prominently in view, although partially covered by the skewed dark green and half-lace panties she’d chosen for the day. Her back was curved, the shirt shoved up until the slightest edge of her matching green bra line could be seen, and because of the style of the shirt and Cristiano’s ministrations, her more visible shoulder was half exposed. Her head was thrown back and combined with the curvature of her back it seemed clear—though her perspective was admittedly biased—that she was feeling pretty damn good.
It was straight pornography, even if her ass crack was covered.
As the shock faded, Felicity realized something else. Her face was entirely out of the shot. Everything she’d inferred about the feelings in the photo came from body language, and of course memory. The lighting from the living room’s large windows darkened the foreground of the picture just a bit, darkening her hair beyond its actual hue … and further rendering her unrecognizable.
The picture was indecently sexy, but also tasteful in the way it obscured her identity.
Cristiano tapped the center button on the device and the image shifted, slightly, until she was looking at the same picture again but beneath a layer of apps and folders. It wasn’t fully obscured, but the part that was the most overridden was the part that held the most personal risk. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her nose, the startlingly tender action jerking her out of her shocked stupor.
“You actually took a picture.”
“Of course I did,” he said, already putting the phone away. “That was the point. To prove to you that you’re sexy as fuck. You just need to see you the way I do.” His gaze burned. “And I wanted to show my appreciation for your idea.” He chuckled. “This worked out better. If you’d sent me some sexy pic while I was driving, I might’ve swerved off the road and died.”
She laughed, since she could see he was teasing, and turned with him when he started toward the kitchen. “Well I hope it wasn’t a busy road, then. I would’ve felt extra-bad.”
“The interstate’s always busy.”
“Interstate?”
Cristiano paused just past the island. “I had to go to Trenton.”
Felicity felt the breath stumble from her lungs. “Do I … want to know?”
He turned to face her. “You’re the only one who can answer that, baby.”
He was right. She knew he was. She watched him continue to the fridge, surely needing to grab something quick for a real lunch so he could get back to whatever he was supposed to be doing. She closed her eyes for a moment and pulled in a long breath. I’m only in hiding in the first place because of them. And for as much as she was appreciating the benefits, the reality of having had to be kidnapped for her own protection, losing her job, her apartment, and lying to her best friend was a damn lot. All on top of, well, everything else.
Cristiano had already turned on the stovetop grill and was setting the second of what looked like a pair of grilled cheeses onto the flat surface.
“I want to know,” Felicity said.
He glanced over at her, studied her for a moment, then set a sheet on top of the sandwiches to help them cook the way he wanted. While they were frying, he turned and leaned his hip against the opposite side of the counter. “By the end of the week, Manny will be dead. I can’t say exactly what day or exactly what way it’ll go down, but the end result will be the same.”
Felicity drew a deep breath. She wasn’t surprised, other than to hear him so certain about his ability to effectively murder a prisoner from the outside.
Cristiano’s brow pinched. It wasn’t a glare, but something that looked more like hesitation. “Aracely and Armando Senior are dead. It won’t be on the news tonight.”
She felt something that time. It wasn’t pain, not like it should have been, but more like regret at the way things had gone. Sadness for the lives they’d lived more than for the lives lost. Later, when she was alone again, she’d let herself dwell on that reaction and worry about what it said about her. Instead, she carefully moved up to the island seating. “Were you there for it?” She didn’t know why she needed to know that, or any detail, but it felt significant somehow.
Cristiano inclined his head. “I brought a team,” he said. “The plan was to question them and search for Tristán. But the plan was also to make sure they were dead when we left.” He paused to flip the sandwiches. The aroma of the melting, baked cheese and frying bread billowed through the kitchen when he lifted the cover. He grabbed plates quickly, turned off the heat, and left them to sit when he looked at her again. “I hadn’t intended on killing either of them myself. I wanted to, after what you told me, but I didn’t think I could justify it.”
She swallowed some conflicting responses to that. A little guilt, a little inappropriate arousal. Undeniable appreciation. “You’re talking like it didn’t go down that way.”
He scooped the sandwiches onto the plates and rounded the island, setting one in front of her. Then he sat down and spun her to face him. “Senior gave me an opportunity,” he said. “So I used his own belt and I let off some steam. I cracked him across the face from every angle, then gave him a few across the thighs and chest.”
Felicity pulled her lips between her teeth, old wounds aching in her memory at his words. She was honestly amazed she didn’t have outward facial scars from the number of times her face had been the victim of Armando Sr.’s lashings. She did have a couple of small, light lines that would pass as stretch marks if they were in the right places or ran the proper direction. Instead they were sideways on her thighs and diagonal across her butt.
Cristiano pulled her hands into his. “Then I strangled him. With these hands.”
Her gaze dropped to their joined hands at his prompting. For a single second, she thought she might see something new or different. She certainly thought he expected her to. She didn’t. All she saw were Cristiano’s large, strong hands holding onto hers. His hands were faintly calloused, which one could argue made no sense for his level of wealth, but she was well aware he’d worked hard for his life.
And for mine.
She squeezed his hands and smiled across at him. “You don’t look any different to me.”
He released a quiet breath and indicated her sandwich. “Eat before it gets cold.”
She pulled her plate closer, took her first bite, and she was chewing the deliciously cheesy creation as her gaze wandered back to the man at her side. And she finally noticed something. “Actually,” she said after she swallowed, “maybe you do. Were you wearing that when you left this morning?” She would’ve sworn his shirt had been black, not dark gray.
He snorted, as though he were trying not to laugh. “Now you notice? We gotta work on your observational skills, Foxglove.”
She pouted at him. “I was distracted. So?” She took another bite of his latest masterpiece. She could be happy marrying this man for his skills in the kitchen alone and she dearly hoped he never asked her something that forced her to admit that.
He grinned over at her for a quick second before his expression sobered. “Hazards of the job,” he said. “We have a couple locations in Trenton. I cleaned up before we left town.”
She mulled that over for a minute. “I suppose that makes sense.” She would have to come to terms with the idea of him occasionally showering elsewhere, probably. Another minute of comfortable eating passed. “Will you teach me … more about what you do?”
Cristiano licked his fingers clean and angled to face her, scowling.
“I don’t mean killing!” She lowered her last bite. “I just want to know what it is you do. Generally speaking. Are you always the guy they send to lean on relatives of your enemies? Do you always have to spend days interrogating gangsters? I don’t need gruesome details. I just want to understand a little better, I guess.”
His expression softened and Cristiano leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. “Yeah. I can tell you about that, over time.” He paused, watching her finish off her sandwich. “I want you to think about something while I’m out today, too.”
She gave him a curious look, her mouth full.
“The family has a psychotherapist on tap,” he said. “She’s good, and she knows how to keep a secret. She’s been on payroll since I was a kid. I’ve been to her a few times, years ago.”
Felicity’s eyes widened. “You have your own therapist?”
His lips twitched. “Well it sounds crazy when you say it that way.” He scooped up their plates. “You’ve got a lot of shit to unpack about what your family’s put you through, and now what mine’s putting you through. So if you think you’re open to it, I’ll take you to see her.”
That was what he wanted her to think about. Felicity scrunched up her lips. “Have you slept with her before?”
He laughed, set the plates in the sink, and faced her again. “She was friends with my mom,” he said. He leaned closer, heat blazing in his eyes. “I may have a tendency to look outside my generation, but which way do you think that tendency runs?”
She pressed her thighs together. “Well, good. I wouldn’t want to see her if you had.”
“So you do, then?” He was still grinning.
“I’ll think about it.” She paused. “You’d have to let me out of the penthouse, you know.”
“We could manage if we were careful.”
Meaning it was a risk he was willing to take for her. He wanted to protect her, so much so that he was technically betraying his beloved family and had gone to the trouble of kidnapping her. Yet he was still willing to risk ruining all of that effort for the sake of caring for her.
Felicity swallowed a lump of emotion as she watched him snag a bottle of water and stride from the kitchen. That was so much more care, in and of itself, than nearly anyone had ever shown her. She knew he needed to be leaving again, but she also knew something else. I’ll just be quick. “Okay,” she said, projecting her voice only enough to catch his attention. “I’m willing.”