43. Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Lina
We’re back at my place when I tell him everything.
I pace as I talk, words spilling out in uneven bursts—what David Allister said, how genuinely confused he seemed, the way his face changed when I mentioned the funeral, the moment it all clicked for me.
“I don’t think David was the one who hired someone to kill me, Alex.”
Alex doesn’t seem surprised. He exhales, then nods. “That lines up with what I found today.”
My stomach tightens. “So it’s confirmed?”
“Yes,” he says. “David’s been doing his own digging into some questionable financial transactions.”
I slump onto the edge of the couch, the weight of everything pressing into my chest. “He really meant it,” I say. “When he said he cared. When he thanked me.”
“I believe him,” Alex replies. “I don’t think that was an act, Lina.”
He pulls up my vanity chair to sit across from me, forearms resting on his knees, voice steady but grim. “There’s more.”
I fix my eyes on him. “Of course there is.”
“Money has been moving from David’s account since Virginia passed,” he continues. “Large sums. Quiet transfers. Shell accounts.” His jaw tightens. “And someone’s been forging David’s name.”
My breath catches. “He didn’t authorize it?”
“No,” Alex says. “Reese compared the signatures. They’re close—good enough to fool banks at a glance. But not good enough to fool someone searching for patterns. The differences are subtle, but they’re there.”
Forgery. Premeditation.
Suddenly, the room feels frigid.
“So what happens next?” I ask.
Alex meets my gaze. “We keep digging.”
I nod. “Tomorrow’s Monday. The shop’s closed.” I draw breath. “Whatever I need to do…I’ll do it.”
Alex studies me like he’s measuring the impact of that promise. Then I ask what’s been sitting on my chest since we left the shop.
“Where is he?” I ask.
The intruder. The hitman.
Alex’s jaw tightens before he shakes his head. “He’s been taken care of,” he says.
I don’t push. I don’t want the details. I understand there are parts of this world that aren’t meant for me, even if I’m standing close to it now.
“Okay,” I say.
It’s all too much—layers of betrayal, danger, money, secrets—but I do what I’ve always done. I tuck it into mental boxes. Label them. Stack them neatly and I move forward.
We sit there for a moment, the house quiet around us.
Then I ask the question that actually scares the fuck out of me.
“What are we, Alex? Where do we go from here?” Alex looks up.
I swallow, forcing myself to keep going. “I know there’s an endgame here. You live in Queens. You’re not here permanently.” I twist my fingers together. “I’d rather not do this if it’s temporary. I can handle danger and chaos.” I watch him closely now. “I prefer not to be heartbroken.”
The words hang between us, leaving me unexpectedly exposed.
“I’ve already survived enough,” I add softly. “I’m not interested in pretending this is something real if it’s not.”
A quiet lull hangs between us.
This isn’t about contracts, threats, or money. It’s about us. I’m not asking to be protected. I’m asking to be chosen.
He gently pulls me close, as if he’s deliberately giving me the opportunity to back away. I don’t.
“Do you want this to be something?” he asks, surveying my face.
The question isn’t casual. It’s careful. Earnest. It lands right in the center of my chest.
“Can you trust me?” he continues. “Can you live with who I am…and what I do?”
I don’t answer right away. I want to be honest with myself before I’m honest with him.
I think about what he’s really asking of me.
I know he’s my protector. The man who stood in the dark and watched over me. The one who didn’t flinch when he told me who he really was, and didn’t soften the truth to make it easier to swallow. And trust isn’t blind for me anymore. It’s earned.
“You didn’t lie to make me feel safe when I asked you to be honest,” I say. “You told me the truth when it mattered. Even when it cost you.”
He watches my face, searching for cracks.
“I can live with who you are,” I continue. “Because you don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it. Because you don’t enjoy power over the innocent. And because you didn’t try to cage me when you could have.”
My voice softens. “That matters.”
I step closer now, closing the space between us. I’m nearly as tall as he as he sits.
“As for trust,” I add, “I don’t give it lightly. But you’ve shown up. Over and over. When it counted.”
I meet his eyes. “I want you.”
His breath catches, and his eyes roam my face, looking for a but…
“And if this scares you,” I say gently, “that’s okay. It scares me too. But I’d rather walk into something real with my eyes open than protect myself from anything that could be amazing because I’m too afraid.”
The room feels like the world is holding its breath. And in that moment, with everything laid bare between us, I understand this isn’t a leap of faith. I’m making a choice.
He doesn’t give me time to convince him any further.
One second I’m standing over him. The next he’s towering over me as he stands, the words between us still vibrating in the air.
Then he’s moving—decisive, hungry, done pretending restraint is an option.
His hands are on me before I can catch my breath, and when he reaches to lift me, my body moves before he does.
I launch upwards at him, legs wrapping around his waist, arms locking around his shoulders like instinct already knows where I belong.
He catches me easily.
“I’ve got you, love,” he says. And I believe him.
We barely make it down the hall. Everything blurs into heat and momentum and need—need that's been building for days, ready to snap. The bedroom door appears and disappears as he carries me inside, the door closing behind us with a soft, final click.
This is different from before.
There’s no careful pacing this time. No checking in. The first time, he held himself back—measured every touch, slowed himself for me. Now he’s urgent, rougher at the edges, like he’s been wound too tight for too long and I’m the only thing that makes sense. And I love it.
I don’t want tender. I don’t want slow. I want him—all of him—with a need that feels feral and unrestrained.
His mouth crashes into mine, full of heat and hunger, the scent of him overwhelming. I cling to him, fingers digging in, steadying myself against the solid press of his body as he looms over me—built to shield and consume simultaneously.
His presence fills every corner of the room. Yet instead of shrinking me, it steadies me. Grounds me. Gives me the freedom to want him without reservation, to surrender to the urgency between us without fearing what comes after.
Everything about him feels sure. Locked in.
And as he holds me there—firm, unyielding, utterly present—it hits me.
This isn’t chaos. This is trust colliding head-on with desire.
As soon as we reach the bed, we’re moving too fast to think. Hands everywhere. Clothes torn away without ceremony. We’re not here to admire—we’re here to feel.
I try to push Alex onto the bed, ready to climb over him, aching to have him inside me. But he stops me, lifts me again, and in one smooth motion positions me hovering over his face.
I peer down at him, stunned by how effortless it was.
Then his mouth meets me.
His tongue slides through my folds, slow and deliberate at first—then he latches onto my clit, licking and tugging with intent that makes me cry out instantly. I buck, overwhelmed, but his hands hold me down, keeping me where he wants me as he devours me.
God, it feels so good.
I grab the headboard to keep myself upright as his mouth works me relentlessly. Then my body lifts an inch—his forearms flexing as he raises me just enough to slide me back and forth over his face.
I’m so fucking wet I know I’m soaking him. The realization alone makes my thighs tremble.
To be that strong—to hold me up like this, to control my movement without effort—makes my head spin. Then he lowers me onto him again.
“Ride me, Lina,” he growls.
And I do.
I put my full weight on him, rocking back and forth, grinding into his open mouth as he spreads me and works my clit with his tongue—licking, nipping, sucking until the heat in my center turns unbearably molten.
The pressure builds fast. Heavy. Tugging at me.
And then it shatters.
I throw my head back as the orgasm tears through me, riding the wave shamelessly, body shaking until I come apart completely.
Fuck! That didn’t take long.
Before I can even recover, he lifts me again and positions me hovering over his cock. I’m still coming down from my orgasm when he pulls me forward to kiss me—deep, hungry—rekindling the need instantly.
I grab his erection, thick and hard in my hand, and guide him to my entrance.
“Fuck—I forgot the condom,” he mutters.
“I’m on the shot and clean,” I say breathlessly. “Just fuck me now, Alex.”
The hunger in his eyes tells me everything. He wants this even still.
I lower myself, easing his tip inside me, my mouth falling open as the stretch hits. My pussy heats instantly, expanding around his girth, tight and demanding.
Briefly I consider pulling back. Then I don’t. I want him hard. Rough.
I ride him—up and down, again and again—the pain delicious, the friction driving me wild. I whimper and pant through it, the kind of pain that makes you sink into it, chasing relief.
Alex thrusts upward, forcing himself deeper.
His hands knead my breasts roughly as he sits up to take them into his mouth, sucking and licking as he pounds into me harder.
The pressure builds again—hot and relentless.
Then he flips us in one motion, pulling out long enough to make me shudder, before he turns me over.
I barely have time to whimper before he slides back inside me from behind. He groans and stills for a moment, breathing hard.
“Fuck, Lina. You feel so fucking good.”
I’m right on the edge—desperate.
“Fuck me, Alex,” I moan. “I need you now.”
Alex doesn’t hold back.
He thrusts deep and hard, over and over, forcing me to brace myself against the bed frame. It hurts so fucking good. I move—rolling my hips, bouncing, clenching around him deliberately.
His growl sends a shockwave through me, my pussy tightening hard around his cock.
I’m panting, shaking, right at the tipping point when his hand wraps around my throat—not cutting off air, controlling it enough to make everything tighten inside me.
Everything about this man drives me wild. The need to have him closer and deeper is desperate. Ravenous.
He pulls me back to where our bodies cling to one another, then turns my face to kiss me. As his tongue dives into mine, my body trembles as it gives way.
My orgasm crashes through me violently, my body convulsing as I come apart completely. Alex follows with one final deep thrust, groaning as he spills inside me.
After a moment, I fall forward as he holds my hips from behind.
He grabs my ass with both hands and gives it a firm shake. “This ass is incredible,” he says hoarsely.
I giggle with exhaustion.
Alex pulls out and rolls us onto our sides, gathering me against him. He nuzzles into my neck as the intensity gives way to a quieter kind of warmth.
“Fucking amazing,” he murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
“So good,” I whisper, smiling as warmth and contentment wash through me. Sleep claims me moments later, pulling me under with a satisfied sigh.