Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Teresa
I wake up in stages, each one more confusing than the last.
The first thing I'm aware of is the warmth. A delicious, heavy warmth that's surrounding me, holding me close. It feels safe, secure.
The second thing I'm aware of is the ache. A deep, satisfying ache between my legs that reminds me of everything that happened.
A blush creeps up my cheeks as the memories come flooding back.
The way he looked at me.
The way he touched me.
The way he fucked me with abandon.
My body flushes with heat, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a moan. I can still feel him inside me, the phantom memory of his cock stretching me, filling me, claiming me.
It's enough to make me want him all over again.
I shift, a slow, languid stretch, and I feel the heavy warmth of another body against my back.
His arm is wrapped around my waist, holding me close. His leg is hooked over mine, possessive yet comforting.
I can feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart against my back, a soothing against the frantic, fluttering beat of my own.
I'm in bed with Vito Conti.
Sort of. Technically, it's a daybed.
In a cabana. On a beach.
And we're still there.
I have never done this before. I have never had sex, then fallen asleep where we lay because I was too hazy to care, only to wake up and have him slip into me again a few hours later.
I have never had sex in the middle of the night on the beach.
I have never had sex with a mafia prince.
The thought is enough to send a fresh wave of panic through me.
This is insane.
I am insane.
He's not my colleague. He's a stranger. A dangerous stranger who dragged me away from my life and held me against my will.
I'm a hostage. A prisoner. This is all some kind of elaborate, twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome.
I should be screaming.
I should be running.
But I'm not.
Because it doesn't feel like that. It feels… different.
It feels like something else entirely.
I try to analyze it, to break it down into neat little boxes, to understand the psychological implications of my actions. But I can't.
Because for once in my life, I don't want to think. I don't want to analyze.
I just want to feel.
I can hear the gentle lapping of the waves, the rhythmic hushing sound of the water against the shore. The rising sun beats down, warm and bright through the sheer curtains, illuminating the space in a soft, golden light.
My world has narrowed to this cabana, to this daybed, to the man who is holding me in his arms. And for now, that's enough.
I feel Vito stir behind me, a slow, languid stretch that brings his body flush against mine. He’s hard, a fact that sends a thrill through me. He nuzzles against my neck, his stubble a delicious, raspy friction against my skin. I shiver, and not from the cold.
"You're awake," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He sounds sleepy, sated.
"I am," I whisper, my own voice hoarse from all the screaming and crying... and begging. The blush that I was too horny and desperate to feel earlier is heating up my face now. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't," he says. "I've been awake for a while."
I stiffen. He's been watching me sleep?
"Just watching you," he says, as if he can read my mind.
The thought should be creepy. It should be unnerving. But it's not.
It's... intimate. Sweet.
I've never had sweet with Vito before. I've had demanding and arrogant. I've had dangerous and possessive. I've had rough and dirty.
I've never had sweet.
I like it.
"All that armor you wear comes off when you sleep," he continues, his fingers tracing a lazy pattern on my stomach, just above the swell of my hips. "You look peaceful."
"I feel peaceful," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. It's the truth. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm not overthinking everything. I'm not worrying about what other people think. I'm not trying to be perfect.
I'm just... being.
His hand slides up and cups my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. It pebbles instantly, a jolt of pleasure shooting through me.
"You're so responsive," he murmurs, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below my ear. "It's sexy."
I arch into his touch, a silent plea for more. I can feel his cock, thick and hard against my ass, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.
"I want you again," he says, his voice a low growl. "Right now."
I feel a fresh wave of wetness between my legs, my body already preparing for him, eager and willing. But along with that comes a throb of soreness, a tender reminder of our earlier exertions.
It reminds me of just how much I was willing to give him last night. Just how much I shouldn't have. Even though he's my kidnapper, there should be a professional line, and to say that I've crossed it would be an understatement. I've run past it, vaulted over it, and left it in the dust.
But that doesn't mean I can't be smart now. My body can be willing, but my mind needs to be in charge. I need to be in control of something, and this is all I have.
My response is to put my hand over his, stilling its movement. My touch is gentle, not a rejection, but a pause.
I try to make a joke of it. "Again?" I say with a nervous laugh. "Even the Energizer bunny needs to recharge."
He chuckles, and the deep rumble vibrates through my whole body. He doesn't pull away. He just stills, letting me take the lead, letting me set the pace.
"Is that a no, Doctor?" he asks, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. He knows I want him. He can feel it.
"I didn't say that," I say, my voice a little breathless. "But I'm... sore. Just thinking we should, maybe, cool down a little."
It's the last thing I want to do, but it feels like the right thing. The safe thing.
He nuzzles my neck again, a gesture of understanding that surprises me. "Fair enough," he says. "I have an idea of how we can do that."
Before I can ask what it is, he shifts off the bed, moving quickly, so I don't realize what he's doing until he's got me off the bed and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Vito!" I shriek, a laugh bubbling up in my chest, a sound so unfamiliar it's almost alien. "What are you doing?"
"Cooling down," he says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He carries me out of the cabana, the bright morning sun making me squint. I'm completely naked, exposed, and it sends a thrill through me that is both terrifying and exhilarating.
We are completely, utterly alone out here.
He walks toward the water, his strides long and confident. I can feel the muscles in his shoulders and back flexing under my hands, and I have to resist the urge to run my hands over him, to explore every inch of his powerful body.
But my pride forces me to fight back.
"Put me down!" I demand, but there's no real heat in my words. My legs kick uselessly in the air.
I try to push away from him and scramble off his shoulder, but it's useless. He’s too strong. I'm like a kitten trying to fight off a lion.
"I said, put me down!"
He just laughs, a deep, rich sound that makes my stomach clench. He walks into the water, the cool waves lapping at his ankles, then his knees, then his thighs.
"Vito, no," I gasp, realizing what he's about to do. "Don't you dare."
He doesn't say a word. He just wades in deeper, until the water is up to his waist.
My kicking feet touch the water, still a little cool from the night before, and I gasp and lift them higher.
He takes another step, and then another.
"No, no, no!" I shriek, a mix of real alarm and uncontrollable giggles. "Stop!"
And then, with a triumphant grin I can't see but can feel radiating from him, he dives forward, launching us both into the cool, clear water.
The shock of the water is a bracing slap, a sharp intake of breath that steals the air from my lungs.
For a moment, I'm disoriented, a tangle of limbs and rushing water. But then I find my footing, my toes digging into the sandy bottom, and I break the surface, sputtering and laughing.
The water is a delicious, soothing balm on my sore, aching muscles. It's cool and refreshing, and it washes away the last remnants of sleep, leaving me feeling wide awake and more alive than I've ever felt before.
He surfaces a moment later, slicking his wet hair back from his face. He's laughing too, a genuine, unguarded laugh that crinkles the corners of his eyes and transforms his whole face. He looks younger, lighter. Free.
He turns his grin on me.
I respond by covering his face with my palm and shoving him under again. He surfaces with a glint in his eye.
"Oh, it's like that, is it?" he says, his voice low and dangerous.
I turn and streak away into the deeper water, attempting to swim, but he's faster, stronger. He closes the distance between us in a single, powerful stroke, his arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me back against him.
My back is flush against his chest, my body slick and wet. The water is buoying me up, making me feel weightless, and I can feel every hard, sculpted inch of him pressed against me.
Including the cock that has very much not cooled down.
I still, my laughter catching in my throat. His other arm comes around me, trapping me, holding me in a firm, possessive embrace.
"Got you," he murmurs against my ear. His voice is low and raspy, sending a shiver down my spine.
My breath hitches. The playfulness has evaporated, replaced by a sudden, intense wave of heat. The water, which was so cool and refreshing a moment ago, now feels like it's simmering around us, a cauldron of unspoken need.
He holds me like that for a long moment, letting me feel the hard, steady beat of his heart against my back. His hands roam over my body, touching and exploring. He traces the curve of my hip, the line of my thigh, the swell of my breast. His touch is electric, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.