Chapter 10 #2
Later, in bed, he pulls me against him as always.
But tonight, I don’t fall straight to sleep.
My body hums with restless wanting. His arm drapes heavy over my belly, anchoring me.
And lower, I feel him—hard, insistent, restrained.
He never moves beyond holding me. But the restraint tonight feels like its own kind of torment.
My thighs clench. My breath stutters. I whisper before I can stop myself: “Donatello…”
He goes still.
I turn in his arms, meeting obsidian eyes that catch the moonlight. The heat in them sears me .
“You want me,” he says gruffly. Not a question. A certainty.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Please.”
He cups my face, thumb stroking my cheek. “I swore I’d wait until you were ready. Tell me you are.”
I nod. Tears sting, but they’re born of wanting, not fear. “I’m ready.”
The groan that leaves him is guttural, torn from a place deeper than control. His mouth claims mine, fierce and reverent all at once. Gone is the ruthless enforcer who took my virginity with fire and force.
Tonight, he kisses me like a man starved, like a man given bread at last.
His hands map me slowly, reverently, as if he’s memorizing each curve. The swell of my breasts heavy with milk, the roundness of my belly, the softness of thighs that ache for him. He whispers bellissima, mia regina, la mia vita between kisses, words that brand more deeply than his touch.
He sits up. Surprised, my eyes open to find him murmuring into his mobile. He ends the call and rises from the bed, hand extended towards me.
“B ella mia , come.”
I don’t hesitate.
Donatello takes my hand, not forcing, not commanding—just holding.
We take our time as he leads me to the upper deck.
The night air is warm, fragrant with sea air.
Lanterns flicker along the railing, soft pools of golden light swaying in the breeze.
Beyond them, the sea murmurs, endless and steady, as if it knows the rhythm of us before we do.
A crew member created a low bed made with silk pillows and draped in a canopy of gauze that stirs like ghostly veils in the salt-sweet wind.
I stop short, breath catching. It looks like something from a dream. Too beautiful for someone like me to belong in. Too tender for the man I thought could only ever take.
But tonight, his eyes aren’t a hunter’s eyes. They’re warm obsidian, reflecting lantern light, fixed on me as if I’m the only thing in the world worth seeing.
“Lie down, bella mia ,” he murmurs as he guides me.
I obey, sinking into the silks, the fabric cool and decadent against my overheated skin. He lowers himself beside me, bracing on one arm so his weight doesn’t press me into the cushions. His other hand slides across the swell of my belly, reverent, protective.
“You’re carrying our daughter,” he whispers, lips brushing my temple. “And I swear I will worship you both.”
It isn’t possession. It’s a promise.
His mouth trails down my cheek, over the corner of my lips, slow and savoring.
I arch into him, the wanting too sharp to hold back.
My fingers find the drawstring of his silk pajamas, fumbling them open until I can feel warm skin beneath my palms. He groans against my lips as he finally claims them fully.
The kiss is unhurried but devastating. He tastes of red wine and salt air.
He tastes of everything I shouldn’t crave but do.
He undresses me carefully, reverently, as though my nightgown reveals a secret only to him. His gaze never leaves mine, even as he bares me. “Bellissima,” he murmurs, voice husky with awe. “My queen.”
I tremble beneath the weight of his words, of his hands.
When his mouth closes over my breast, his tongue teasing until I cry out, he groans softly. Not from conquest. From reverence. As if every sound I make is a prayer answered.
“Donatello…” My voice is a plea, a confession. “I need you… please.”
He eases me back into the nest of pillows, hovering above me. His hand cups my cheek again, thumb stroking the dampness beneath my eye. “Tonight, I don’t take, Paolina. Tonight, I give.”
When he finally enters me, it’s slow, deep, filling me inch by inch until I can’t tell where I end and he begins. My breath stutters. My body yields. It doesn’t feel like surrender—it feels like finding something I didn’t know I was missing.
He moves with exquisite patience, hips rolling in a rhythm that makes my toes curl and my heart ache. His forehead rests against mine, eyes locked, as if he’s carving the moment into eternity.
“I love the way you look at me,” he whispers, voice breaking. “Like I’m more than what I’ve done. ”
I choke back a sob, pulling him closer. “Because you are.”
The words unspool between us like gossamer, fragile and indestructible all at once.
Pleasure builds inside me, not violent or overwhelming this time, but steady, like a tide pulling me higher. When I crest, it’s not a shattering. It’s unraveling. My body arches, clinging to him, breaking and remaking itself in his arms.
He follows, groaning my name like a prayer, spilling into me as his lips claim mine again.
Afterward, he doesn’t roll away. He stays wrapped around me, kissing my face, my hair, my swollen belly. His hand strokes the curve, protective and adoring. “You’ve given me everything,” he murmurs. “And I’ll spend my life giving it back.”
I press my forehead to his, tears slipping free. “Donatello…”
He kisses them away, each one, until there’s nothing left but the sound of the sea and the whisper of the gauze above us, cocooning us in a world that feels like it could belong only to us.
My fingers trace his jaw, rough with stubble. For the first time, I don’t think of running.
I think of staying.
I think of love.
And it terrifies me almost as much as it thrills.
As dawn brushes the horizon pink, I watch him sleep, this man who was supposed to be my captor and has become something I can’t name. I press a kiss to his temple and whisper so softly it might be only for me.
“I don’t want to fight this anymore.”
The baby shifts beneath my palm, as if agreeing.
For the first time, I imagine a future not built on escape, but on us.