Chapter 18 Elio
ELIO
I’m so fucking aroused I can’t think straight.
I can’t even count how many times I’ve come with my hand around my cock over the years, imagining what it would be like to make Annie come with my tongue. I regretted not going that far with her so fucking much over the years.
And now I know.
The reality was so much fucking better than my imagination could ever be.
I go straight to the bathroom as I stride out of the kitchen, closing the door hard behind me and flipping the lock as I flick open the button of my jeans and yank my zipper down.
I have my cock in my hand in a matter of seconds, gripping the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white as I start to stroke myself.
I want to come with the taste of her still on my tongue. The memory of her moans and her cries still in my ears. And then…
She said she wanted me to be her first. That she’s always wanted it. That she wanted it then, and she wants it now…
That thought pounds through my head with every stroke, obliterating everything else.
I can imagine it vividly—carrying Annie back to the bedroom, stripping her bare, laying her back on the bed, and worshipping every inch of her body until she’s trembling, begging, until I’m finally ready to ease my cock into her.
I’d make her come first so I could feel her cunt fluttering around me as I slid inside.
So I could feel her squeeze me as I gave her my cock, inch by inch, watching her face as she took it.
She’d take it so well, arch her hips for me, gasp my name as I sank into her to the hilt—
That’s it. I wanted to draw it out, to make myself last while I savored her taste, but I can’t hold it back.
My cock throbs, white-hot pleasure crawling up my spine, and I explode with a shuddering groan, painting the porcelain of the sink with my cum as I spurt again and again with her name on my lips.
God, I want to fuck her. I want her to be mine in every way. I want—
In that moment of earth-shattering pleasure, it feels worth it. Worth all the pain Ronan would inflict to have her even once. To be her first. To know I’d be indelibly marked on her, long after I was gone.
To know what it’s like to be with the only woman I’ll ever love before I die.
And then my orgasm eases, the clarity hits, and I sag back against the door as I turn the water on to clean myself up.
I don’t want to die, and I know no matter what Annie thinks, Ronan would fucking kill me if he knew I was seducing his sister while lying to his face.
There’s no way out of this that ends with me in one piece if we keep on like this.
I need to be focused on hunting down Desmond, on ending the threat to Annie so she can go home, and Ronan’s family can be whole again.
That should be my focus, not this. Not physical pleasure that’s as stolen as it was eleven years ago.
Annie thinks we could keep it a secret, but I know we can’t. And I don’t want her to have to live with the knowledge that her brother killed me because of what we did together. It’s bad enough that I’m lying for her—that if this all falls apart, we’ll be in the same situation.
And more than that, she hasn’t said what she wants after this. Hasn’t said that once would mean always.
I can’t have her just once. I can’t be her first, can’t finally get what I’ve wanted all this time, and then walk away.
If she doesn’t want me forever, I can’t have her at all. And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there is no forever for us.
Even if we could keep the secret, when we go back to the real world, Ronan would never allow us to be together. I might be the don now, might have ascended to a position where I’m technically worthy of Annie, but deep down, I’ll always be the O’Malley ward. Always be where I am by their grace.
I can’t have her and then walk away again. I’d rather never know at all what it was like, than know and lose her.
That’s the one thing I know for certain, after eleven years.
—
The rest of the day is spent going back and forth between Boston and the safe house.
My time in Boston is more of the same—following up on leads for Ronan that I know will be dead-ends while looking into Desmond and following up with my own personal contacts on his movements.
He’s stayed in his penthouse for two days now, and I’m wondering if I might be able to hit him there, with enough firepower.
It’s dangerous, attacking him on his own turf, the least opportune way I could go after him.
But I can’t let this thing drag on much longer.
Ronan is going to go insane, and I’m going to lose my mind, too.
Annie is more withdrawn when I get back to the safe house. We eat dinner and clean up in relative silence, and I have a feeling it has something to do with my rejection of her earlier. The fact that I wouldn’t go farther than we did.
She goes to take a shower and to bed without saying anything, and I go back to the couch the way I did last night. But I can't sleep.
The couch in the safe house's living room is comfortable enough—I've slept on far worse from time to time, on stakeouts for jobs in Chicago—but comfort isn't the problem.
The problem is that Annie is twenty feet away in the bedroom, and every time I close my eyes, I see the look on her face when I told her no.
She wanted me to be her first.
The words echo in my head, a siren song that's been tormenting me for hours.
I shift on the couch, the springs creaking beneath me, and stare at the ceiling.
Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting shadows that dance across the exposed beams overhead.
This cabin is one of the De Luca family's oldest safe houses—now mine—tucked away in the woods hours from Boston.
It's remote, secure, and right now it feels like both a sanctuary and a prison.
I want her. God, I want her so badly it's a physical ache in my chest, a tightness that makes it hard to breathe.
But I can't have her. Not like this. Not when she's vulnerable and traumatized and looking to me to erase what Desmond did to her, not just out of the simple desire to be with me. Not when taking her virginity would be the final betrayal of Ronan's trust. Not when I don’t know for sure that I’ll be able to have her forever.
He might succeed where he failed before. He might be the one who gets to be my first, whether I want it or not. It might be him who takes what I wanted to be yours, Elio.
I don’t want our first time together to be because of another man threatening her. I don’t want it to be out of fear, for it to be reactionary.
And I know if I have her once, I’ll never be able to walk away again. No matter what it costs me.
It was hard enough the first time.
I throw my arm over my eyes, blocking out the moonlight. The situation is already impossible. Every day, Ronan grills me on if I've heard anything about Annie's disappearance. Every day, I tell him my men are searching, that we'll find her soon. Every day, the lies get heavier.
And every night so far, Annie and I have gotten a little closer to that line. I went down on her. What’s next? There’s not much left. Letting her go down on me. Giving in to what she wants, and fucking her.
The thought of her mouth on my cock, something I’ve dreamed about for as long as I knew what that was, makes me stiffen instantly. I reach down, sliding my hand under my sleep pants to free my cock and ease the instant ache, when my phone buzzes on the coffee table.
I jerk my hand back as it buzzes again the screen lighting up with Ronan's name. My heart lurches, my erection instantly deflating. It's past midnight—why is he calling now?
I grab the phone, my pulse hammering. "Yeah?"
"Any news?" Ronan's voice is rough, exhausted. He hasn't been sleeping either.
"Nothing yet." The lie tastes bitter. "My men are still following leads."
"It's been three days, Elio." There's an edge of desperation in his voice that makes guilt twist in my gut. "Three days, and no one has seen her. No ransom demands, no body, nothing. It's like she vanished into thin air."
"We'll find her," I say, and at least that's not entirely a lie.
We are looking for someone—just not Annie.
We're looking for Desmond Connelly, and the bastard has gone to ground.
"I have men watching all the usual places.
The airports, the bus stations, the family connections. If she's out there, we'll find her."
"What if she's not out there?" Ronan's voice cracks. "What if someone took her? What if she's already—"
"Don't." I cut him off. "Don't go there. Annie is smart and she's tough. We’ll find her, I promise.”
A pause, then quieter: "She's my baby sister, Elio. I can't lose her too."
Fuck. This is supposed to keep Ronan from feeling guilt over Siobhan, over how things happened two years ago. Not send him into a spiral about it. That defeats everything Annie and I are doing here, everything I’ve agreed to.
"You won't lose her," I say firmly. "I promise you, Ronan. I'll find her."
After I hang up, I sit up in the darkness, my head in my hands. This can't go on much longer. Either we find Desmond soon, or I'm going to have to come clean to Ronan. The longer this drags out, the worse it's going to be when the truth finally comes out.
And it will come out. It always does.
The bedroom door opens, and I look up to see Annie standing in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
She's wearing one of my T-shirts, the fabric hanging to mid-thigh, and the sight is enough to send a flood of arousal through me again.
Her copper hair is a wild tangle around her shoulders.
Even from here, I can see the dark circles under her eyes.
She hasn't been sleeping either.
"Elio?" Her voice is soft, uncertain. "Are you awake?"