Chapter 24 #3
He nods against my lips and continues his exploration. My bra comes off next—he struggles with the clasp one-handed but refuses my help, determined to do this himself. When it finally comes free, he tosses it aside and just looks at me.
His eyes are dark, but he looks at me reverently.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, his hand skimming up my side, carefully avoiding the worst of my bruises. “Emma, you’re so fucking beautiful.”
“I’m a mess,” I counter, because I’m covered in injuries.
“You’re beautiful,” he repeats firmly, his hand cupping my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “Always. Especially now.”
His mouth follows his hand, and his lips close around my nipple, tongue flicking against the sensitive peak. I gasp, my back arching, my hand fisting in his hair.
He takes his time with my breasts, lavishing attention on them like he has all night, as if the outside world doesn’t exist.
When he finally moves lower, kissing down my stomach, I’m already trembling.
He pauses at my belly button, his hand spreading across my stomach. His lips press there, then he starts murmuring things. I strain to listen.
“I’m going to love you so much,” he whispers against my skin. “I’m going to protect you and make sure you know you’re wanted. That you’re loved. You’re the best thing that ever happened to us.”
I’m crying again, goddammit.
“I’m going to teach you everything,” he continues, his thumb stroking across my belly. “And I’m going to make sure you know your mom is the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. That she fought for you before you were even born. That she chose us.”
“Jeez, Leo,” I hiccup, squeezing my eyes shut as I blow out an unsteady breath.
He looks up at me, and his eyes are shining with unshed tears. “I love you. Both of you.”
“I love you too,” I whisper.
He hooks his fingers into the band of my leggings and I lift my hips so he can pull them down along with my underwear. When I’m finally naked, he sits back on his heels and looks me over. His eyes track over every inch of my body like he’s memorizing every detail.
“Perfect,” he says quietly. “You’re perfect.”
I reach for him, tugging at his pants. “Your turn.”
He lets me undress him and helps when his injured arm makes things difficult. When he’s naked too, I pull him back down to me, needing the skin-to-skin contact.
We kiss for a long time. His uninjured hand roams my body, mine exploring his before it slides between my legs. I’m already wet and he groans against my mouth when he feels how ready I am.
“God Emma,” he breathes into my mouth.
He works me slowly with his fingers, building me up gradually, watching my face the entire time. When I’m close—right on the edge—he pulls his hand away and I actually whimper at the loss.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, positioning himself between my legs and entering me in one delicious thrust. “I want to feel you.”
I cry out as my walls clamp down around his cock. His forehead rests against mine, our hands intertwined beside my head. His injured arm is awkward but he makes it work, holding himself up with his good arm while his injured one rests against the bed.
“Please, Leo,” I whimper, rolling my hips into his. “Move.”
His hips roll into mine and we both groan at the exquisite feeling. It’s different from every other time we’ve been together. It’s gentler, more worshipful. We’re both acutely aware of how close we came to losing each other.
We’re not captor and captive anymore or kidnapper and victim. We’re not even enemies turned lovers.
We’re just two people building something new from the wreckage of our families’ war. Two people who love each other despite everything. Because of everything.
“I love you,” I whisper, the words coming out desperate as he moves deeper.
“I love you,” Leo says back, his voice rough with emotion. His hips roll in a way that makes me gasp. “Both of you. So much. Emma, I love you so much.”
The pleasure builds slowly, perfectly, until I’m trembling beneath him and I can barely breathe from how good it feels, how right.
My orgasm hits me soft and rolling, pulling me under like a warm wave. Leo follows moments later, my name on his lips, his forehead pressed to mine.
We don’t separate. Instead, we lie there tangled together, his weight partially on me, my fingers stroking through his hair. We fall asleep like that—tangled together, our bodies pressed close.
When I wake the next morning, Leo is watching me sleep. He’s propped up on his good arm, looking down at me with this small smile on his face.
“What?” I ask sleepily, my voice rough.
“Nothing,” he says softly. “Just…I love you, Emma Santoro.”
My heart does this weird leap at that. Emma Santoro. His wife. Mrs. Leonardo Santoro.
The thought makes my stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with morning sickness. But I can’t let him know how much that affects me and how much I want that.
So I smirk instead, even though my heart is racing. “You must have hit your head harder than I thought during the fight. I’m Emma Brennan, remember?”
He smiles, and it’s full of love and promise.
“Not for long you won’t be.”