Chapter 37 Alina
ALINA
Itake his hand and follow his lead, sinking into the plush seat he moved from the living room into the bedroom. As I sit, my limbs feel heavy, like they're made of lead. The adrenaline crash is hitting me hard after the hot shower.
Marco sets a bag on the nearby table and starts unpacking it. "I got you some clothes from the hotel shop," he says, his voice low. "And a first aid kit."
Marco kneels in front of me, opening the first aid kit. "Let me take care of those cuts," he says, his eyes meeting mine. And despite all that's happened, the gentleness in his voice makes my chest ache in a way I can't quite explain.
I watch as he soaks a few cotton balls in antiseptic and then brings one to my face. I close my eyes, and he gently dabs the cuts. It stings, and I flinch involuntarily.
"Sorry," Marco says, and blows on my cuts. "Hopefully that helps."
He continues, his touch becoming even lighter. "I'll be as gentle as I can."
"You don't have to do this," I murmur. "I can—"
"Alina," he interrupts. "Stop. Let me take care of you."
I fall silent, letting him help me. The tender presses of the cotton ball almost feel comforting.
"You scared me tonight," he admits quietly.
My eyes shoot open, surprised. "I scared you?"
"Yes." His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment before returning his focus to me. "When you didn't answer, and then when those doors opened and I saw you there, covered in blood..." He exhales sharply. "You're everything to me, Firefly. If I lost you…"
For the first time, I see a genuine crack in his armor. The ruthless, confident man who exudes power is vulnerable—because of me.
"You didn't lose me," I say softly. "I'm right here."
He nods, but his expression remains somber. "And I'll make sure nothing like this ever happens again. Do you hear me, Alina? No one will ever get close enough to hurt you."
I reach out, my hand resting on his cheek. His eyes close briefly at my touch, and I feel the tension in his body ease.
"I trust you," I say.
His eyes open, locking onto mine. "Good. Because I won't let anything happen to you. Ever again."
There's a tone in his voice, one that tells me that, no matter what it costs, he'll keep that promise.
It's surprising, considering not even my family has ever shown me that kind of support or care.
I never get phone calls from my parents asking how I'm doing or if I'm safe, especially from my dad.
The thought makes me realize just how much I need this man in my life.
As Marco continues to tend to my wounds with gentleness, making sure to be extra careful. The warmth of his fingers against my skin keeps me calm and somehow makes the sting of the antiseptic disappear.
Once he's satisfied, he tosses the cotton balls into a nearby trashcan and takes out a few bandages. As he works, I can't help but study his face. The furrowed brow, the tightness around his eyes—I can tell his mind is swirling with thoughts.
"There," he says softly, applying the last bandage to a cut on my cheek. "All done."
But he doesn't move away. Instead, his hand lingers on my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek just below the bandage.
"Alina," he starts, his voice low and deep. "Tonight, I've never been so scared in all my life," he says, pausing before continuing, "it made me realize something. Something I should have known all along."
My heart pounds in my chest, and I sit up straight. "What?" I manage to get out.
"I love you, Alina," he says, taking a deep breath. "And the idea of a world without you in it," he shakes his head, "it's unthinkable."
For a moment, I can't speak. A thousand emotions crash through me at once, leaving me dizzy and breathless.
No one has ever said anything like that to me before—not in a way that felt this real.
He isn't just saying the words; he's carving them into my soul.
And I know this isn't part of our arrangement or some calculated political move. Marco truly, deeply loves me.
"I…" I start, but words fail me. How do I express what I'm feeling? How do I tell him that when I was hiding, terrified for my life, all I could think about was him?
"When I was there, in my apartment," I finally manage, my voice shaky, "hiding from that man, I thought—I thought I might die.
" Tears well up in my eyes, and Marco wipes them away gently with his thumb.
"And all I could think about was you. That I might never see you again. That I'd never get to tell you…"
I stop and wipe my eyes to clear my vision.
"I love you too, Marco. God help me, I do. If what I'm feeling isn't love, then it doesn't exist."
A smile breaks across Marco's face—not his usual smirk or his charming political grin, but a genuine, heartfelt smile that lights up his entire face. He cups my face in his hands, careful of my injuries, and brings his forehead to rest against mine.
"Say it again," he says.
"I love you," I repeat, and this time the words come easily. "I love you, Marco Bonventi."
He kisses me then, soft and sweet and full of tenderness.
Marco's hands, which were cleaning my injuries with such care, begin to linger. His touch shifts, becoming less clinical and more intentional. The air between us changes, charged with a love-drunk energy I can't ignore.
I look into his eyes, and the tenderness I saw earlier is still there, but it's mingled with that familiar darker, more intense gaze.
His touch now sends electricity through my body, awakening every nerve ending. The fear and adrenaline from earlier transform into something else entirely, becoming a desperate need to feel alive, to feel him.
I lean into him and kiss him. It's soft and sweet at first, but it doesn't stay that way for long.
The kiss deepens, and I feel a familiar heat building inside me. My hands find their way to his shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. Marco's fingers tangle in my damp hair, pulling me closer.
We break apart, both breathing heavily. For a moment, we just stare at each other. I can see Marco's hesitation.
"Are you sure?" Marco asks, his voice husky. "After everything…"
I smile. I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Knowing that since he's been treating me like I might break at any moment, I'll need to make the first move to show him that I want to be broken in other ways.
I sit forward and undo my towel, tossing it to the side. "Especially because of everything."
Marco's eyes drink me in. "God, how I need you."
I lean back and spread my legs. "Then take me, Sir."
Marco bends down, the heat of his breath tantalizingly close to my skin. He trails soft kisses up my leg, his lips sending sparks of desire coursing through my veins. As he reaches my inner thighs, the sensation intensifies, and I can feel my heart racing.
When his mouth finally meets my center, I can't help but moan. His skilled tongue explores every sensitive fold, driving me to the brink of madness.
I grab my chest as I tilt my head back, lost in the wave of pleasure that's building within me.
"Oh God," I moan. My fingers tighten on my breasts as the pressure builds. Marco grabs my thighs, devouring me and holding me in place as I start to squirm.
His tongue dances over my clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me see stars. The sensation is overwhelming, and I moan loudly again, my hips bucking against his face.
Marco alternates between gentle flicks and more insistent pressure. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel the tension building, an erotic feeling that grows with each passing second.
I reach out with my right hand and grab Marco's head, my fingers tangling in his hair as I tighten my grip.
The world narrows to this moment, this sensation. Everything else fades away—the fear from earlier, the uncertainties about everything. There's only Marco and the pleasure he's giving me.
It all feels so different. As if declaring our love to one another released all doubts, any apprehensions, leaving behind this pure feeling of bliss.
I arch my back, pressing myself closer to Marco's mouth.
My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, accompanied by low moans.
And then, I feel it coming. It starts at the source, where my man is working me.
It radiates out, a tingling sensation wrapped in fire.
I feel my body become tense, like a bowstring pulled back, ready for release.
Marco senses it and doesn't stop. He keeps his pace, relentlessly moving me to explode.
With a final lick of his tongue, my orgasm hits, and I cry out in ecstasy. My body convulses as Marco draws out every last tremor until I'm gasping and oversensitive. He licks up every drop, his tongue prolonging my ecstasy.
As I come down from the high, my body trembling with aftershocks, Marco looks up at me, his eyes dark with lust and desire. He comes up to kiss me, the taste of myself on his lips is intoxicating, and I kiss him back with everything I have, my arms wrapping around his neck.
"You taste as sweet as honey," he says against my lips. "I could eat you every day."
I look at him and smile. "Be careful what you say, or I'll expect it."
He smiles and kisses me again.
He stands, and so do I. "A little unfair here," I say since he’s still wearing his clothes.
He looks down at me with wanting eyes and gently runs his fingers up and down my arms as I start unbuttoning his shirt.
Once fully unbuttoned, I slide my hands back up, over his rock-hard abs and chiseled chest, and slide my hands over his shoulders, removing his shirt.
I lean into him and kiss his chest. I breathe him in—his scent is an aphrodisiac to me.
As I kiss him, I unbutton his pants and pull them down. I get him fully exposed to me and I take his large cock in my hands and begin stroking it, igniting the flames in him. He moans, and I feel him getting harder in my hands.