Chapter 41
Chiara
Is it me, or has someone turned the heat up in my room? I crack my eyelids open to find the sun is up and it’s almost seven. Fuck my life. If Angelo’s threat wasn’t him blowing hot air from his ass, Kane will be here any minute now.
Only I can’t move because Luka has wrapped his body around me and Felix has made a nest in my hair. He thinks the best place to sleep is on my pillow, not the luxe cat bed Angelo brought him, which is handwoven from alpaca hair.
Allegedly.
“It’s too early, cupcake,” Luka grumbles in my ear. His cock is hard against my butt cheeks and making me all kinds of achy, but knowing Kane might burst in at any moment stops me from doing anything about it.
Not that I’d care if Kane caught me fucking Luka, but knowing him, he’d throw a bucket of cold water over me, and I don’t need that kind of stress.
“I’m supposed to be in the gym in two minutes.”
“I only need two minutes.” Luka pushes his erection between my thighs and rubs through my folds. I’m already wet, and we both groan at the feel of him rubbing against my clit.
“Not sure two minutes is a selling point,” I joke.
He laughs before cupping my breast and rolling my nipple between his finger and thumb. “Trust me, it’ll be the best two minutes of your life.”
“Less than two minutes now…” I groan when he lifts my thigh and slides inside me. We didn’t talk much last night. Just enough to establish he wasn’t in too much pain and that we both wanted sex, despite Angelo’s threats of bodily harm if Luka continued sleeping with me.
Felix didn’t seem too impressed by Luka’s presence but, thankfully, he stayed out of the way until Luka finished making me come five times.
From the way Luka stretches me while rubbing my clit, orgasm six is almost here.
“Fuck, I can’t get enough of your sweet pussy, cupcake,” he groans in my ear. “Can we stay in bed all day?”
“I think my husband might not like that idea,” I gasp. I don’t know if he stayed here overnight, but I assume not. If he’s in the house right now, I’m amazed he’s not tearing my bedroom door off its hinges.
Luka thrusts deeper, and when he rubs my clit, I come hard, pulsing around his shaft. I hear him grunt before he pulls out and paints my lower back. Thank goodness one of us has the brain capacity to remember I’m not using contraception.
Just as I’m about to say that, the bedroom door flies open to reveal Kane. He’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a vest tee. Holy shit, the man is a veritable feast for the eyes.
Has he been working out without me? The light sheen of sweat coating his golden skin highlights every bulging muscle in startling clarity.
I lick my lips before I remember the sheet has pooled around my waist and Kane can see my tits. His eyes dip down before he tears his gaze away.
“You’re late,” he snaps, but I can tell he’s fighting a smile. Either that or he has constipation.
“Sorry about that,” Luka laughs. “It’s my fault.” He grabs a discarded tee and wipes up the mess he made.
“Have I got time for a shower?” I ask Kane while the cat glares at him from the corner where he retreated once Luka and I started fucking.
“No. I don’t have time to wait for you to make yourself pretty for me. Get some clothes on and come downstairs. If you’re not there in five minutes, I’ll make you do circuits for an hour.”
Circuits sound grim, so I waste no time climbing out from under the sheet. Kane’s jaw drops at the sight of my naked body, but I give no shits.
“See something you like?” I taunt before I saunter into the bathroom. I don’t miss the giant erection he now sports. Giant being the operative word.
Holy shit.
If I hadn’t just come, I’d be climbing that man like a tree and calling it a cardio workout.
I’m dead. Like, deceased. My cheek sticks to the mat with sweat while my arms stopped functioning thirty minutes ago.
“Call a doctor,” I gasp. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”
Kane scoffs loudly, unimpressed by my poor endurance levels. Or anything. He’s been telling me I’m pathetic for the last hour.
“Get up, Chiara. If I were an attacker, you’d be dead by now.”
“Sounds good to me.” I’m unable to move.
While the rational part of my brain accepts that learning self-defense is a good thing, the rest of me thinks this is Kane’s punishment for flashing him.
He’s acted like an asshole from the moment I arrived in the basement gym. No smiles for Chiara this morning, only snide comments about my lack of fitness.
The bastard isn’t content to leave me to expire in a puddle of sweat. He pulls me to my feet and gets in my face for the millionth time.
“Get ready to hurt, baby girl, because we’re doing this shit every day until it’s ingrained in your brain.”
The only thing ingrained in me right now is exhaustion, but I stop short of telling him that. Whining doesn’t work. I tried that already. Or the promise of sexual favors. I resorted to that ten minutes ago.
He barely cracked a smile.
My shoulders droop. Every inch of me hurts. The endorphins from my sexy romp with Luka have long since faded. I’m not sure I have the strength to drag myself back upstairs. Not without a caffeine transfusion or some kind soul carrying me.
Luka finishes his workout at the far end of the gym and saunters over as fresh as a daisy. The fucker’s sweating bullets, but it’s as if exercise has invigorated him.
Maybe I’m allergic to exercise? It’s a genuine concern.
I was never sporty as a kid, although I enjoy swimming. Honestly, I’ve never seen the point of vigorous exercise. I like my curves. If I turned into one of these women who refuse to eat fat and sugar, there’s a real risk my boobs would shrink. Having no boobs would make me sad.
“Cupcake,” Luka tuts, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Do you need resuscitating?”
My lip wobbles. “I need coffee, Luka.”
“Aww, is Kane being mean to you?” Kane rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest.
I nod and sniff pathetically. “So mean.”
“Get the fuck out of here before I make you do another fifty press-ups,” he snaps before stalking over to the weights.
I shriek as Luka throws me over his shoulder and tears out of the gym. “Put me down!” But he just laughs.
In the bright, sunlit kitchen, the bruises on Luka’s face are clear as day. He catches me scowling as he slides a double-shot espresso in front of me.
“I thought you’d like the bad-boy aesthetic,” he grins. Since Dominic isn’t here, we’re eating toast with butter and honey. It’s surprisingly good. I swallow a mouthful and wash it down with coffee, groaning in delight.
“I hate that he hit you,” I admit. “He was bang out of order.”
“Better to hit me than you, cupcake. I can take it.”
“He’d never hit me.” Angelo is a bastard, but he’s not a wife beater. Lorenzo would have no such qualms, though. He strikes me as the sort of man who’d beat his wife senseless for daring to answer back.
Thank fuck I’m not married to him.
“What about your work? Won’t being bruised affect it?” I chew my lip as he sits across from me and sips his coffee.
“I have a modeling job tomorrow, but honestly, I don’t care. The makeup artist will figure it out.”
“Modeling what?” My imagination conjures up a bevy of lithe models draped over Luka, and it takes serious effort not to growl.
“No idea. It’s for a health brand, so I’ll probably spend ten hours drinking kale smoothies and trying not to gag.”
He grins, but it’s forced. “Do you hate being in front of the camera?” Despite his lifestyle, I get the impression Luka isn’t vain.
“It’s alright. I have no other skills, so I may as well cash in on my looks.” He winks. “At least until I find a rich sugar mommy.”
“Gross.”
He makes it sound like a joke, but I wonder.
Is he seriously looking for some rich older woman?
It would make sense if he was. A young, sexy guy like him is catnip to older women.
I remember looking through his Instagram back when I had a phone.
His feed was full of paparazzi shots of him at red carpet events with gorgeous, successful women on his arm.
“I’ll be away for the next few days,” he says conversationally. “Once the shoot ends tomorrow, I’m flying to Paris for a catwalk show.”
“Sounds fun.” Fucking awful, more like. I force a smile before standing and placing my coffee mug in the dishwasher. It’s time to grab a shower before Kane comes to haul my ass to the office for another day of number crunching.
“Chiara, I—” Whatever Luka was about to say gets cut off by my husband’s arrival. He stalks in wearing a charcoal suit and crisp white shirt accessorized with gold cuff links. I spy a glimpse of tattooed skin just below his throat.
My pulse jumps in response, making me choke on the drool that’s pooled in my mouth. Angelo’s a lot of things, but ugly isn’t one of them.
“I thought you’d be ready to leave,” he grumbles while glancing at his obscenely expensive wristwatch.
“Sorry. Kane’s torture session went on for longer than I expected.”
“Did you learn anything useful?”
“Yeah, that you need a defibrillator in the gym,” I deadpan.
Luka chuckles, but Angelo rolls his eyes. I’m almost positive he knows we spent the night together, but he says nothing.
“I don’t have time to wait for you, so Kane will bring you to the office.” He turns and leaves, not giving me time to respond.
“Guess I better go get ready,” I mutter, even though all I want to do is fall back into bed and sleep for the rest of the morning. “Enjoy your trip to Paris,” I tell Luka. Once again, he looks like he wants to say something, but my defense systems are back in place.
I’m not interested in being Luka’s casual fling while he fucks other women. It’s probably a good thing he’s leaving. Some time apart will give me a chance to figure out how the fuck I’m going to get away from this place now that I’m a proud cat mama.