Chapter 22 LUCA
LUCA
I wake up to the dull throbbing in my shoulder before I even open my eyes.
Bandages pull tight across the wound with every breath.
But Nora is draped half across my chest, dead to the world, her bare skin radiating warmth against my ribs.
Pale morning light cuts through the window onto the tangled sheets, and my good arm stays hooked around her waist, holding her locked against my side.
A soft breath puffs warm against my collarbone. She stirs, stretching long against my side, and her sharp eyes flutter open. Her lips twitch into a smirk like she caught me red-handed.
"You're staring." Her voice scrapes rough with sleep. "Creepy much?"
I shift just enough to drag my fingers down her spine. "You're naked in my bed. Staring is the polite fucking response." I pause, watching her mouth twitch. "Besides, you weren't complaining three hours ago."
She snorts and pushes up on one elbow, careful of the sling. The sheet slips. I watch it go without apology. She notices and rolls her eyes, but the flush on her neck gives her away.
"Polite. Right. Because nothing says courtly manners like kidnapping someone off a London street and dragging them into your bed." She taps the edge of the gauze, testing my limits with a light flick of her fingernail. "How bad does the shoulder actually feel, boss?"
"I've had worse headaches from Enzo's cheap espresso." I catch her wrist before she pokes again, tugging her hand down against my chest. "Stop inspecting me like a bruised peach. I'm not dying."
"Give it time. Your family treats gunfire like a casual group hobby." She leans down and nips the corner of my mouth, sharp and unrepentant. "Also, your hair looks ridiculous. You look like a goddamn raccoon."
I hook my good arm around her hip and lift her up until she sits right over my legs, keeping her clear of the sore side. The heat hits immediately. "Keep making fun of my hair, Blake. See what happens to your day."
She rolls her hips down against me, slow and heavy, stealing my breath. "Promises, Moretti. You have one working arm and zero feelings. I'm shaking in my boots."
I slide my hand under the sheet, cupping her backside and squeezing until she gasps. "Watch it. I can still handle this entire house flat on my back."
She drags her fingertips lightly across my chest, keeping clear of the bandage. "Then send someone for breakfast. Because right now you look half dead."
A low laugh rumbles against my throat, warm breath brushing my skin.
Her hips grind down into mine, steady and slow.
I drag my good hand into her hair, pulling her mouth down to mine until our teeth click.
Her lips part on a sharp gasp, and I slip two fingers between her thighs, slick and hot, rubbing once against her center until she sinks her teeth straight into my bottom lip.
She tilts her head back, knuckles going white against the wooden headboard. "Luca. If you tear those stitches doing something stupid, I'm letting Nonna lecture you for three straight hours."
I curl my fingers inward, matching the slow roll of her hips while her breath shivers across my neck. "Let her lecture. I'm finishing this, stitches or no stitches."
"Right there." She bites down hard on her bottom lip, her inner thighs trembling against my ribs. "Don't stop moving."
I press my thumb against her clit until her head drops against my collarbone with a ragged shudder. "I'm pacing myself. Don't rush the talent."
I ease out and wipe my fingers on the sheet like a heathen.
"Your turn." She lifts her chin, her mouth curving into that sharp, knowing smirk as she jabs a finger against my chest. "But if you tear a stitch, I will mock your ass forever."
"Deal." I rest my head against the pillow, giving her a slow smirk.
She slides down my body, her palms smooth against my ribs as she shuffles lower between my thighs, careful to avoid my injured shoulder.
The sheet pools around her waist. She wraps one hand around my cock, stroking twice until my breath catches.
She looks up at me through her lashes, her thumb circling over the tip. "Keep still, Moretti. Let a professional take care of it."
"Stop talking and get to work," I murmur. I thread my good hand into her dark hair as she leans in. Her warm tongue licks over the head, slow and wet, making my hips lift off the mattress.
She takes me past her lips, humming against me as she takes me deep into her mouth. Her hand pumps the base in rhythm with her throat, working me with a ruthless, greedy focus that drains every single ounce of control from my skull.
Fingers tight in her hair, I guide her rhythm and try not to jerk my wounded shoulder. "Jesus, Nora. Look at me."
She looks up with hooded, dark eyes, swallowing down around me until I lose the fight completely.
My hips surge into her mouth with a rough, broken sound, spilling hot against her tongue.
She takes every drop without pulling back, stroking me through the aftershocks before slowly letting me go.
She wipes her lip with the back of her hand and crawls back up my chest, breathing hard.
A knock hammers the door like it owes someone money.
"Rise and shine, lovebirds!" Matteo's shout rattles the hinges. "Nonna declared the kitchen open. If you're both still alive in there, get moving before Enzo eats every pastry in the province."
Nora buries her face into my chest, groaning into my skin. "Shoot him. Use your good hand. Aim for the kneecap."
I tilt my chin toward the ceiling, not bothering to sit up yet. "Walk away from the door, Matteo, or I put you on perimeter guard duty in the rain."
"Save the threats!" Matteo shakes the brass knob back and forth. "Enzo bet fifty bucks you can't even stand up. Adrian said you're fine, so stop faking it. Get down here in ten minutes or we're busting in with popcorn."
Enzo shouts through the wood, his laugh obnoxious and clear. "I heard noise earlier. Sounded like someone was dying. Should we call a doctor or throw you a party?"
Nora lifts her head, eyes bright with pure offense. "Your brothers are absolute children."
"Assholes. Technically. And yes." I kiss her once, quick, tasting the scowl on her mouth. "They're going to be unbearable for weeks. Get used to the bullshit."
She slides off me, bracing on the edge of the mattress before pulling on my oversized linen shirt. It swallows her down to mid-thigh. "Fine. But if your idiot brothers make one single comment about squeaking springs, I am hurling cutlery at someone's forehead."
I sit up carefully, sling tugging, and reach for sweatpants with my good arm. "I'd pay good money to see that."
Another thud hits the door, fast and loud. Enzo hollers again from the hall. "Luca, come on! Nonna has food ready. Get moving or we're coming in with a camera."
I stand, steady myself on the bedpost, and open the door just enough to glare. Matteo grins like Christmas came early. Enzo leans on the wall picking at a bruise on his jaw from the fight, looking far too pleased.
"Look who finally woke up." Enzo crosses his arms, tapping his watch with a smirk. "Nice to see you made it through the morning workout, boss."
Nora appears behind me in my shirt and nothing else, hair a wreck, arms crossed. "Enzo. Sweetie. I put a planter through a man's skull the previous night. Keep talking and you're fucking next."
Matteo howls. Actually doubles over, hand on the wall. "God, I love her. Can we keep her? She's meaner than you."
I shut the door in their faces. Their laughter carries down the hall anyway. Nora looks at me, one eyebrow up, fighting a smile.
Nora buttons the oversized cuffs of my shirt with deliberate calm. "They are never going to let this go. Not for the next six months."
I loop my fingers around her waist and haul her back between my knees. "They started hours ago. They know you're staying. That means they think they have permission to give you shit 24/7."
She wraps her hands around my nape, resting her forehead against mine. "You sound almost fond of them. Did blood loss damage your brain chemistry?"
I press my mouth hard against the curve of her throat. "I'm hungry, not soft. Get some pants on before Nonna storms in here with meat and starts laying down bedroom rules."
She catches my lower lip with her teeth, biting lightly before stepping back. "Still barking orders while held together with stitches and gauze. What a dictator."
I watch her dig through the drawer for something that fits. Outside the door Matteo and Enzo are already inventing new nicknames at volume. The house feels less like a bunker today. Lighter. Like the bullet bought us a temporary ceasefire and everyone decided to spend it roasting me.
I can live with that.
Nora pulls on a pair of dark sweatpants under the oversized linen shirt, smoothing the waistband over her hips. "Get moving, Moretti. Your idiots are downstairs and I need coffee before I punch someone in the face."
I push off the edge of the door, adjusting my sling while she shakes her head. "Try not to provoke Matteo before noon. He gets dramatic."
She spins on her bare heels toward the hall. "I'm not making any promises. If he starts clapping at me, I'm stealing his breakfast."
We head downstairs to the noise. Her hand finds mine on the stairs and stays there. Matteo spots the joined fingers first and starts a slow clap. Enzo joins in. Nora flips them both off without breaking stride.
Yeah. Lighter.
I could get used to this version of recovery.