Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Let’s Talk About The Giant Dick In The Room
Chiara
I’ve always believed there’s a special place reserved in hell for me, but right now, with Raf’s big hands wrapped around my hips, I think I’ve found my heaven.
Raf is everything I dreamed he would be and more.
Demanding, in control, and an A+ dirty talker.
Not to mention he has a body that looks carved from marble.
Defined chest, strong arms, and a six-pack of abs that pave the way to his deep V and thick, long, magnificent cock.
I want to burn the sight of him in all his naked glory on my retinas to remember every detail.
I know in this moment, even a lifetime of this wouldn’t be enough, except he made me promise this was the last time we gave into the chemistry between us.
I say a silent apology, because my Daddy is perpetually screwed.
I am about to make it my life’s mission to convince him that two times is not enough.
I need to make him see that this is more than two people just mindlessly fucking; it’s a soul connection.
The thought alone spurs me on, and I drive my feet into his rock-hard ass to find purchase so I can meet him thrust for thrust, driving down as he drives up.
Like two parts of one machine, one doesn’t work without the other.
My big dick energy jokes aside, I know with complete and utter certainty Raf Princi is the stopgap to all the leaky, rotten parts of me.
He’s just not ready to accept it, and regardless of what he says about it, I’m not ready to stop trying to convince him.
I haven’t felt this alive in fucking years.
All this cements for me is that if I can’t have him, I don’t want anyone else—especially not someone I’ll be forced to marry.
The truth is, Raf has a lot of love and devotion to give, if only I knew why he was so dead set on not letting anyone see the softness that lies in wait under all his hard edges, dark scowls, and over-analytical brain.
I wrap myself around him tighter, not wanting him to break our connection, fully aware that once we step out of this steamy cocoon where time has stood still and dreams came true, I’ll be assaulted with the stark reality of my life.
I’m living in New York on borrowed time.
Alessandro is out there somewhere—and if my intuition is correct, much closer than I think.
My gut constricts at the thought that he may have had a part to play in last night’s events.
No one has been able to confirm if they saw the gunman’s facial features.
Add to that, Raf and AJ have a cat and mouse, love/hate relationship stalling my arranged marriage which is still very much in play, and Marco is lying in a hospital bed probably questioning his whole fucking existence thanks to me, and I break.
I give into my emotions and just pray that Raf will stay in this moment of truth a little longer and catch my fall.
Of course, like the fucking king of a man I know he is, he holds me tighter, cupping my ass tenderly as he uses his thumbs to softly stroke the divots just above it.
I shudder at his gentleness and cry tears for all that has happened but also to mourn the loss of this raw, vulnerable version of him that I know will retreat as soon as we disconnect.
I put my face into the crook of his neck, and he shushes me, stroking my back.
I lift my head and let him see my tear-soaked face.
Emotion gleams back at me from his dark eyes, more a warm chocolate color than the almost black I’m used to.
I slide down his body and go to rinse myself off, but he grabs my hand and turns me to face him again so only my back is being hit by the stream of water.
Then he grabs the washcloth and soaks it, squeezing it over my front, before running it down my body and crouching before me to run up between my legs.
He cups me, pushes his index and middle fingers into me one, two, three times.
My legs quiver, and I feel feverish all over again, but I’m too overwhelmed to speak.
“Keep me inside you,” he rasps, peering up at me.
I bite my lips and nod, tears threatening again. “Then I need you to give me something, too.”
“Tell me what you need,” he rasps.
“If this is where our story ends, kiss me like it’s the last time you might ever get the chance.”
He stands slowly and draws me to him. I can feel every carved ridge of his body as he does exactly that.
I expect it to be bruising like that day a few weeks ago.
But instead, it’s tender and passionate.
Slow and unhurried. Our tongues glide and move together like they were always meant to meet.
It lasts a few minutes, neither of us wanting to end it first, and my heart swells knowing he’s trying to savor this moment as much as I am.
And it breaks with the knowledge that the promise of how good we could be is totally in our grasp, but he’s too stubborn to reach out and take it for keeps.
So I keep my promise. I slip out of the shower, dry off, and put back on the clothes Evie brought for me, then go in search of caffeine, mask fully in place, giving Raf the time and space to compose himself and fix his own.
I’m standing by Raf’s fancy coffee machine in his state-of-the-art kitchen when he finally joins me, looking every bit as sexy as he did moments earlier, albeit wearing far more clothes.
“Hello, Mr. Tom Ford,” I say before lazily roving my eyes over his tousled hair and meticulously groomed dark beard, the caramel cashmere sweater hugging his chest, sleeves pushed up to reveal his corded forearms, and right down his dark-denim clad jeans to his designer trainers.
He clears his throat and looks at me expectantly, the merest of smiles tugging on his lips as he walks towards me.
“Chiara, if you’re hungry, there’s cereal in the panty right behind you,” he deadpans.
“Wow! Amazing what a few orgasms can do for your sense of humor,” I lob back. “Maybe you should try it more often.”
“You promised, Chiara,” he says with an authoritative edge. Naturally my mind wanders back to when he was wearing far less, and heat flashes through me because Daddy Raf Princi was the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life—and I’ve enjoyed some good sex.
He’s standing by me now, and his expensive cologne, which I also happen to know is Tom Ford, fills my nostrils.
I bite my lip at the images replaying of him totally owning me, filling me, consuming me.
I move to the side so he can make a coffee.
I watch him over the rim of my own espresso cup, tossing up how I should respond.
If we’re going to go back to how things were before we broke all the rules and crossed all the lines, I’m bringing the brat back.
“Raf, I’m sorry to say, but I think we need to address the tall, dark, handsome daddy with the big swinging dick in the room.”
He splutters, and I look at him in mock confusion.
“What? Isn’t that the saying when there’s a thing that everyone in the room is thinking but not talking about?”
“Ah. So the brat is back then?” he says, taking a sip.
“I dunno. Will Daddy Raf spank me again?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, he hesitates before he speaks, so I, in true brat fashion, bulldozer on.
“What choice do I have? As you’ve so aptly pointed out, last night was a one-time thing, and this morning, well, that was the encore.
But now the ring master—that’s you, if you’re having trouble following at the ripe old age of thirty-four—is retiring,” I say in a mock whisper.
“And his circus animal—that’s me, because you know you commanded me and I did all the dirty things you asked of me—is being put out to pasture, probably soon to be replaced. ”
He tenses his jaw at my absurdity, and I can tell he’s forming the argument he thinks he should give me. The one that suits the character of the uptight, untouchable lawyer. Except he’s forgetting I know exactly how much feeling courses through his veins. Felt in me, on me, and around me.
Growing more serious, Raf squares up but is careful not to touch me, and I want to scream at the absurdity of his restraint.
“Chiara, last night was…” He trails off, like he’s trying to decide what degree of eat shit he’s going to serve. “It was very out of character for me. Emotions were high for us both, and I should have known better. I should have stopped us from crossing that line.”
“That’s bullshit,” I state plainly, because fuck it, what have I got to lose anyway. “That’s not the problem. You wanna know what your problem is?” I toss out, like his dismissiveness hasn’t made my stomach sink to my feet for an entirely different reason than when we were in the throes of passion.
“Please. Go right ahead. Tell me in all your twenty-four years of infinite wisdom what my problem is.”
“You’re fucking scared of people seeing the real you.
The one who gives a shit, who feels big and makes grand gestures.
Being loved and giving it in return petrifies you, and I just wish I knew what made you this way, because let me tell you, Raf, I’ve lost so much, yet I won’t stop letting myself believe that love exists, as imperfect and as hard as I am to love. ”
“We’re all flawed, Chiara. You know exactly what you want from a partner, and you should have that, but like I said to you last night, it can’t be me, and you shouldn’t compromise.”
I exhale when I really want to throttle him.
“Honestly, it’s my own fault,” I say softly. “I thought if you saw how good we could be…” I trail off.
“And I told you never to settle for less than the gold standard,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear, catching me off guard. “I’m not it, Chi.”
I want to tell him he’s far beyond the gold standard, but his phone rings, cracking the tension in the room. He pulls it from his back pocket and answers.
“Hi. Yes, she’s here. I’m not sure. Yes. I will. We’ll make our way to the hospital shortly. We just have to swing by and pick up some clothes. Right. Okay.”
All these one-word answers and clipped sentences are killing me. Who has a conversation like that? Once he hangs up, he turns to me, humor dancing in his eyes.
“Speaking of the elephant in the room… AJ is insisting we meet him at the hospital so you can both visit your cousin.”
I smirk at him. “I much prefer my take on that saying. Was that him?”
“Yes. To say he’s pissed that he hasn’t been able to reach you since everything went down last night is an understatement,” Raf says. “Where’s your phone?”
“Probably dead in my clutch. Ignorance is bliss.”
“You might reconsider that when you hear what I have to say next,” he says, leaving no room for my questions. “Arabella flew out of town last night?”
“What? Where did she go? Oh my God.” Dread settles in my stomach as I recall our conversation in the bathrooms. Did she plan this?
All the events from last night flash through my mind at supersonic speed, and I feel a frenetic energy start to swirl within me.
“I’ve been so caught up, I haven’t even thought to check in.
I need to call her,” I say almost frantic. “Can I borrow your charger?”
“You can, but you won’t reach her on that number. She told Luca she’s getting a new number and she’ll get in touch with everyone when she’s ready,” he says calmly.
I feel anything but calm. “Fuck. I should’ve been there for her. I guess you can add ‘shitty friend’ to the list of cons.” What I don’t add is, There goes another friend. Leaving me for dead, even if I understand why she left.
“Chiara,” chides Raf. “There was a lot going all at once.”
“Yeah, but still…” Then, like my brain finally starts processing this new information, it dawns on me.
“All my stuff is at her house. And I am not staying with my cousin. I’m pissed to the max with him.
Besides, I like to pretend I have some semblance of autonomy.
If I move in with him, he’ll be overbearing and… damn!” I say, pacing.
“Do you know anywhere I can rent?” I whirl around on my socks and lose my footing, and Raf’s hands shoot out, pulling me into his chest to stop me from tumbling to the floor.
Peering down at me with a hint of a smile, he says, “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a hazard to yourself?”
“Ah, ya know, maybe once or twice.” But then I grow serious. “What the fuck am I going to do, Raf. I want to stay in New York. I love my job, and I need this.”
He blows out a breath.
“Stay with me until you find something. I have the spare room, and to be honest, with the revelations of last night, I’ll be working around the clock to build a case to have Arty disbarred and jailed like the scum he is. We’ll probably be like ships in the night.”
“I’d prefer friends with benefits.”
“Chiara, please don’t make me regret extending kindness in a time of need,” he adds quickly.
“Okay, okay,” I say, sticking out my hand to shake his. He takes it. “Roomies. Sometimes enemies. Never friends with benefits.”
“Yup. I’m going to fucking regret this. Come on.”
No, baby, I think. If I have anything to do with it, you’re going to learn I never stop chasing until I get what I want. And what I want is Raf Princi.