13. Leander #2
"This is war, Leander. If you take her, you take everything that comes with her.
You take Vincenzo's hatred, you take her father's cowardice, and you take the full weight of the Moretti name whether you wear it or not," Roberto says, his voice dropping into a low, quiet whisper that only Kara and I can hear.
He’s issuing a challenge and I’m not one to back down from one.
"I know what I'm taking," I tell my father, looking straight into his eyes without a fraction of hesitation.
Roberto stares at me and slowly lowers his cigar. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touches the corner of his mouth.
"Then prove you can protect her," Roberto says quietly. "Because if you falter for one second, Leander—if you hesitate, if you show weakness, if you let Vincenzo find a crack in your armor, her father won't be the one paying the price."
“I know.”
Roberto nods once—a cold, final acknowledgment, then turns his back on us. "Cosimo. We're leaving. Let Antonio clean up his own papers."
Cosimo gives me a quick nod from the doorway, and together the two older men walk out of the conservatory.
Antonio collapses back into his chair, sinking his face into his hands, staring blankly at the glass tabletop. He looks small, deflated, and completely broken.
Kara looks down at her father, her eyes unblinking, then reaches out and takes my hand. Her fingers wrap tight around mine.
"Come with me," she murmurs softly, turning toward the stairs. "I have a few things upstairs I need to grab before we leave."
I follow her out of the conservatory and up the wide marble staircase to the second floor. The hallway is long and quiet, lined with dark paintings and closed doors.
She stops near the end of the hall, pushes open a white wooden door, and steps inside.
It's her childhood bedroom.
The room is medium-sized, neat, and quiet. A queen-sized bed sits against the far wall, covered with a white quilt and simple pillows. A desk stands near the window, holding a few law textbooks and an old brass desk lamp.
I step inside, closing the door behind us. The latch clicks firmly into the frame.
Kara sets her tote bag on the floor near the desk, then turns around to look at me. Her hair is slightly loose from her clip, a few dark strands framing her face. She looks tired, but her eyes are blazing with an intense, burning clarity that pulls me in like gravity.
"He's never going to forgive me," Kara whispers, looking toward the door.
"He doesn't have to," I reply, walking across the hardwood floor until I'm standing right in front of her. "He gave up his right to your loyalty when he put your name on a transit contract."
Kara looks up into my face, her hands coming up to rest against my chest, right over my heart. She can feel how fast it's beating, the pulse steady against her palms.
She reaches up, catching the back of my neck, and pulls my head down to hers.
Our lips meet in a deep, desperate kiss that wipes away everything.
I wrap my arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet, slamming her hips flush against mine. Kara lets out a low, breathless gasp into my mouth, her fingers tangling into the hair at my nape.
My hands move to open her coat and pull it down in one fast motion. I shove the fabric off her shoulders, letting it drop to the floorboards. Her black silk blouse is thin, soft under my hands.
She unbuttons my coat, shoving it off my arms until it falls beside hers, then catches the collar of my shirt, pulling the fabric open until the buttons pop loose.
"Leander," she whispers against my lips, her breath hot and shallow.
I break the kiss, moving my mouth down her jaw, down the sensitive line of her throat, to the exposed dip of her collarbone. She tilts her head back, her fingers digging deep into the muscles of my shoulders, a quiet moan escaping her lips.
I lift her completely, carrying her two steps to the edge of her childhood bed, and lay her back onto the white quilt.
She pulls me down with her, her thighs parting instantly to welcome my weight between her legs. I hover over her, resting on my forearms, looking down at her face. Her chest is heaving, her eyes dark with heat, her lips red and slightly swollen.
I reach down, unbuckling her belt, and unbuttoning her cream trousers. She shifts her hips, helping me wiggle the fabric down her legs until she's lying on the bed in just her black silk blouse and thin black lace underwear.
I move down her body, sliding my hands down her waist, over the smooth skin of her thighs, until my knees drop onto the floorboards between her feet.
I hook my hands under her thighs, lifting her hips to the edge of the mattress, and pull her lace underwear to the side.
She sits up slightly on her elbows, watching me with wide, dark eyes. "Leander... what are you—"
I lean down and bury my face between her legs.
Kara lets out a loud gasp, her back arching off the bed, her hands clutching the white quilt beneath her. I find her wet and scalding hot. My tongue strokes upward over her center, taking her in with a long, wet, relentless rhythm that makes her thighs tremble against my shoulders.
"Oh god... L-Leander," she pants out, her voice raw, her knuckles turning white as she grips the bedsheets.
I keep the pressure steady, my thumb working her sensitive flesh while my tongue laps deep against her heat, tasting her fully. She writhes against my mouth, her hips lifting higher off the mattress, meeting every stroke with frantic, uncontrolled thrusts.
"I-I can't... wait," she gasps, her fingers reaching down to catch my hair, pulling my face closer against her. "Leander, please... now."
I pull back, my face flushed, my lips damp with her taste.
I stand up, unbuckling my trousers and shoving them down along with my boxer briefs, freeing my length. I'm thick, rock-hard, and aching for her.
From her tote bag on the floor, Kara reaches blindly down, pulling out a small foil packet from her makeup pouch. She rips it open with her teeth, her hands shaking slightly as she hands the rubber to me.
I roll the latex over my shaft with two fast, practiced movements.
I climb onto the bed, settling between her knees again.
I grab her hips, anchoring her against the mattress, and kiss her mouth deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips. She groans softly into the kiss, her hands coming around my back, her fingernails digging into my skin.
I align my tip with her opening and drive straight into her in one smooth, full stroke.
Kara gasps loudly, her legs wrapping tight around my waist, her ankles locking behind my lower back as I fill her completely. The tight, scorching heat of her grips me so hard I have to freeze for a few seconds, my chest heaving, my jaw clenched tightly to keep from coming instantly.
"Move," she whispers in my ear, her teeth grazing my earlobe. "Don't stop."
I draw back until my tip almost slips free, then drive deep into her again.
I set a hard, relentless rhythm, my hands holding her hips pinned to the mattress, my chest slamming against hers with every thrust. The bedframe creaks beneath us, the sound of skin hitting skin and our harsh, ragged breathing filling the quiet bedroom.
Kara meets every thrust with frantic energy, pushing her hips up to meet mine, her hands gripping my shoulders, her eyes wide and fixed on mine.
"Look at me," I command softly, my raspy voice vibrating between us.
She keeps her eyes on mine—clear, intense, and completely stripped of any defense.
I reach down between our bodies, my thumb finding her center, pressing hard against her as I thrust deeper into her heat.
The combination snaps her completely.
Kara lets out a loud, shuddering cry, her inner walls clamping around my shaft in a tight, pulsing spasm that rolls through her entire body. She arches off the mattress, her toes curling, her head thrown back against the pillows as her climax takes her.
The feeling of her pulsing violently around me breaks my remaining control.
I drive into her three more times with absolute force, burying myself to the hilt, and come hard inside the rubber with a low, guttural grunt that rattles my chest. I hold her pinned beneath me, my forehead resting against hers, both of us shuddering in the aftermath as the room slowly settles back into silence.
We stay locked together for a few minutes, our bodies slick with sweat, our breathing synchronized in the quiet bedroom.
I pull out slowly, disposing of the condom in the small trash bin near her desk, and walk back to the bed.
Kara is lying on her side, her silk blouse unbuttoned, her dark hair spread across the white pillow. She looks at me, her eyes soft, warm, and entirely unarmored.
I climb back onto the bed beside her, pulling the white quilt over our legs, and pull her flush against my chest. She rests her head on my shoulder, her arm wrapping around my waist, her fingers tracing the scar along my lower ribs.
"Are we ready for what comes next?" Kara whispers into the quiet room.
I kiss the top of her head, my hand resting firmly on her hip.
"We're ready," I whisper softly. "Let Vincenzo come."