Chapter 7 Luca
LUCA
The taste of her.
Christ, it's like coming home after years in exile.
My mind empties of everything except Katerina.
The softness of her lips, the small sound she makes in the back of her throat, the way her body fits against mine like it was created for me alone.
I have a son.
The thought ricochets through my head but doesn't fully land.
It can't land, not while Katerina's mouth is on mine, her fingers digging into my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear again.
Outside this room, Alessandro doubts me.
The Bratva plots against us.
My father's killer walks free.
But in this moment, with her body pressed against mine, only one truth matters.
I have a family.
And God help anyone who tries to take them from me again.
Her lips part beneath mine, and I dive deeper into the taste I've dreamed about for seven long years.
My hands slide up her back, pulling her closer until there's nothing between us but our clothes.
"Luca," she whispers against my mouth, half protest, half plea.
I answer by backing her against the wall, my body caging hers.
My hand finds her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek while my other hand grips her waist.
The silk of her funeral dress slides beneath my fingers, and I remember how she used to come apart under my touch.
"Tell me to stop," I murmur, trailing kisses along her jaw. "Tell me you don't feel this too."
It’s stupid to say, and I’m prepared for her to end this now.
But instead of pushing me away, her fingers thread through my hair, tugging me closer.
Her pulse races beneath my lips as I press them to her throat.
"I hate you," she breathes, arching into me. "I've hated you every day for seven years."
"Hate me tomorrow," I growl, claiming her mouth again.
The heat between us ignites in a whoosh, like gasoline on a flame.
Katerina's hands are everywhere, my chest, my shoulders, slipping beneath my jacket.
My fingers find the hem of her dress, skimming up her thigh, and the sound she makes nearly breaks me.
Her breath comes in short gasps as my hand slides beneath her dress, fingers gliding over the soft fabric of her panties.
The dampness there—fuck.
The knowledge that she's wet for me, ignites something primal inside me.
"Katerina," I groan against her throat, stroking her through the thin material.
Her hips roll against my hand as she seeks pleasure.
"Tell me again how much you hate me." I circle my thumb against her center. Her breath hitches, those blue eyes fluttering closed. "Tell me while you're dripping for me."
She bites her lip, fighting herself, fighting us.
Always so stubborn, my Katerina.
Even now, with her body betraying every word that's come out of her mouth.
"I hate what you did.” Her voice breaks as I increase the pressure on her clit. "I hate that you left me alone."
I hate it too. I always have. But now isn’t the time for words.
Now is for rediscovering the woman I tried to forget but never could.
I press her harder against the wall, lifting her thigh to wrap around my hip. “But you don’t hate this.”
Her head falls back, exposing the column of her neck as I grind against her. The friction is maddening.
Every inch of her is as I remember, and yet different.
Better, stronger, more defiant.
My Katerina has grown into a woman who fights back.
Even as she undoes my pants and frees my cock, there’s an anger in it.
Like she’s going to punish me by fucking me.
I capture her mouth again, swallowing her protests. "You don’t hate this.” I pump into her hand wrapped around my dick. “Tell me you like my cock.”
She answers by ripping open my shirt, buttons scattering across the floor.
Her nails rake down my chest, leaving burning trails in their wake. I hiss at the sensation, at the exquisite pain of her marking me.
"No more games, Luca."
Something snaps inside me. I hike her dress up around her waist, tearing her underwear aside with one rough movement. She gasps, eyes wild with need as I position myself at her wet pussy.
"Look at me. I want to see your face when I take what's mine."
Our eyes lock as I thrust into her in one powerful stroke. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream, her pussy walls clenching around me so tight I see stars.
"Mine," I growl, setting a punishing rhythm that has her clawing at my shoulders.
Time means nothing anymore. Seven years vanish in an instant.
My body remembers hers, every curve, every sound she makes when I hit that spot deep inside her.
The one that makes her nails dig crescents into my shoulders and her breath catches on my name.
"Look at me," I demand again when her eyes flutter closed. I need to see her face, need to watch her come undone. Need to know this is real and not another torturous dream that's haunted me since I was forced to leave seven years ago.
Her eyes snap open, blue flames burning into mine. In them I see hatred and love and need all twisted together.
"Harder," she breathes against my mouth, and Christ, I'm powerless to deny her anything.
I hike her leg higher, changing the angle, and her whole body jolts.
The sound she makes, halfway between a sob and a moan, echoes through my blood.
My hips slam against hers, the obscene sound of skin against skin filling the room as I drive us both toward oblivion.
We could be anywhere.
The Dante mansion could be burning down around us, and I wouldn't notice.
Nothing exists but Katerina's body wrapped around mine, her heat gripping me like she never wants to let go.
"Tell me," I growl against her throat, teeth grazing the tender skin there. "Tell me you missed this."
Her answer comes in the form of her body tightening around me, her back arching off the wall as she shatters.
The sight of her, head thrown back, mouth open in silent ecstasy, sends me over the edge with her.
For one perfect moment, we're suspended together in freefall. No past. No future. Just this. Just us. As it should have always been.
And then it’s over.
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" My voice is rough, my hands still gripping her thighs, keeping her body flush against mine.
"Like you're never letting me go."
I press my lips to her temple, inhaling the scent of her.
I want to tell her that’s exactly my plan.
She’s as much mine now as she ever was. But I’ve learned that sometimes it’s better to be patient than to demand.
“Why can’t you just enjoy the moment?” I grind against her. If she gives me a few more minutes, I’ll send her to heaven again.
She trembles against me, caught between pushing me away and pulling me closer.
The war in her eyes tells me everything.
She wants to believe me, but she's terrified to trust again.
I don't blame her. But I'm not giving her a choice.