Chapter 16 Cristian #2
I nod. “The point is, if he thinks I’ve gone rogue or something—”
“No. Alessandro is a hard head and might want to punish you for speaking up, but he knows you. He knows you’ll put a gun to Maksim’s head. Who better for me to be with than you in this case?”
I can only hope she’s right.
“He’ll be dealing with Maksim right now, anyway. And when he realizes Maksim doesn’t have me or you, he’ll know that you’re doing what needs to be done to protect me. Maybe not calling is best so Maksim doesn’t know either.”
She has a point there too. “I know I’m a badass Mafia princess, but actually… I just—”
“Even badass Mafia princesses can be scared, and we had a big one today.” I realize that I’m going to give in and not go find a phone.
Everything in my training says to make the call, to report to Alessandro immediately.
But something else… Valentina needing me shifts something inside me.
She reaches for my hand, her fingers cool against my skin. "Please, Cristian. I've had no control over anything in my life lately. Just give me this night to get my bearings again."
"One night," I concede, knowing I'm crossing a line that is more than delaying a call to my boss.
It’s a line I can't uncross.
But seeing relief flood her face makes it worth whatever punishment awaits me.
She nods. “We’ll call first thing in the morning.”
I’m in a dangerous place.
I head to the bathroom, needing a moment alone with my chaotic thoughts.
The door shuts behind me, and I lean against it, exhaling slowly.
What the hell am I doing?
From the moment I became her bodyguard, I’ve known that time I spend alone with her brings me closer to something I’m not allowed to want.
I’m fucking torturing myself.
I flip on the water and strip.
Steam fills the small bathroom as I step under the shower spray, letting hot water wash away dirt, blood, and evidence of our escape.
It does nothing for the tug-of-war that consumes my brain.
That day in the car proved I can’t be trusted alone with her.
Reminding myself of that brings back the memories of her wet pussy that my fingers fucked.
Her head thrown back, a moan of pleasure escaping her lips.
My dick swells, as it has many times since when I’ve conjured the memory up.
I have half a mind to wrap my fist around it and jerk off to take the edge off this tinderbox of sexual frustration.
But with Valentina in the other room, it feels wrong.
Alessandro would kill me for this.
Not just for failing to call, but for the way my thoughts keep circling back to his sister.
For how desperately I want to protect her from the life that's been arranged for her.
How I want to be the one who protects her for life. Who brings her joy and pleasure.
Who gives her children.
I press my forehead against the shower wall, water sluicing down my back.
One night.
Just one night.
I can keep my hands off her for one night.
When I finish my shower, I don’t want to put my dirty clothes back on, but I can’t walk around in a towel, so I reluctantly slip on my pants and shirt.
When I emerge from the bathroom, the sight before me stops my breath.
Valentina sits in bed, sheets drawn up like she’s trying to hide.
Her hair falls in dark waves around her face, and the lamplight casts her in ethereal glow. She’s like an angel.
“I figure we can share.” She shifts, making room on the bed beside her. "I promise not to compromise your honor."
I realize she’s still dressed.
Thank fuck.
Still, her clothes didn’t stop me from touching her in the car that one day.
I know I need to maintain some semblance of propriety.
Instead, I find myself moving toward her, sitting on the bed next to her.
“Get some sleep.”
I make sure to keep a respectable distance between us on the bed. Plus, I’m sitting on the covers while she’s under them.
But Valentina immediately closes the gap, nestling against me like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Her head rests on my shoulder.
"Is this okay?" she asks.
"Yeah," I manage, though every nerve ending in my body screams otherwise. I reach for the remote, desperate for distraction. "Let's see what's on."
The television flickers to life. We find a channel playing sitcoms. Valentina's laugh is a delight to hear, considering what we’ve been through tonight.
"God, I needed this," she says, relaxing further into me.
My arm settles around her shoulders, protective instinct winning over professional restraint, as we watch mindlessly.
Soon, we're trading observations about the absurd commercials, creating backstories for the actors, laughing like we aren't fugitives hiding from both her brother and her would-be husband.
"You think that guy knows his eyebrows are two completely different shapes?" she asks, pointing at the screen.
I laugh. “Men don’t worry about that.”
“Sure they do. My guess is that he spent so much time on that perfect smile, he forgot to check the mirror." Her laughter is infectious, and I’m laughing with her wondering when was the last time I laughed like this?
As the next sitcom rerun plays, Valentina shifts against me, her leg brushing mine.
Even with the sheet between us, the contact sends electricity racing across my skin.
My body responds instantly, desire shooting straight to my dick.
I shift, because it’s quite obvious what she does to me.
When she tilts her face up to look at me, her eyes glow with a fire that matches the fire spreading through my veins and I know that I’m in deep, deep trouble.
I should turn away. Create distance. Remember who she is, who I am, what my duty demands. But as she watches me with that mixture of desire and respect, I know I’m fighting a losing battle.
My gaze drops to her mouth, and the urge to close the distance between us is overwhelming.
One kiss, just one taste of her, would be worth whatever punishment awaits me.
But that kiss could cost her everything.