Through the Fire

by Michelle St. James

  He stilled her head with gentle hands. “You better stop,” he said. “Or I’m going to come in your mouth.”

  She almost ignored him. She liked it when he came in her mouth. Liked tasting his salty lifeblood before he fucked her until she came.

  But tonight wasn’t like any other night.

  She lifted her head. “Not without me. Not this time.”

  She pushed him back on the couch and he brought her with him, settling her hips over his, her legs straddling him as he leaned back into a sitting position on the couch.

  His shaft slid between her folds as she kissed him, his tip rubbing against her clit with every rotation of her hips, taking her dangerously close to orgasm before he’d even penetrated her.

  His mouth was warm and wet, his tongue urgent in spite of the care he’d taken with her body. Their desire was at a fever pitch, their bodies flushed and clamoring for release, when she slowed her movements long enough to position him at her entrance.

  He grabbed ahold of her hips and thrust upward as she sank onto him, both of them crying out into the room as she enveloped him to the balls.

  “Fuck, Aria…” His mouth closed around one of her nipples, sending a lightning rod of pleasure to the center of her body. “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

  He wrapped his arms around her torso, flattened his palms against the small of her back as he sucked her nipple and thrust up into her.

  It was too much, the pleasure almost too intense. She was torn between the crazy desire to run from the overwhelming sensation and the instinctual need to move frantically on him until she came.

  She moved her hips, grinding against him as they thrust in unison, their hips fitted together like interlocking pieces of a puzzle.

  He lifted his head from her breasts and looked at her with glassy eyes. Grabbing onto her hips, he aided her movements with his hands, pushing her down onto him as he drove upward, lifting her up as he withdrew.

  It made every movement more powerful; every withdrawal more painful, every thrust more pleasurable.

  She lowered her mouth to his, relishing the parallel between his seeking tongue in her mouth and his invading cock as they moved faster, both of them desperate for release.

  “Come with me, baby,” he said, kissing her chest. “Spill it onto me.”

  She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. This was how their child was made.

  Of this desire.

  This need.

  This love.

  She moved with him, letting loose the hold she’d kept on her body, allowing it to rush for the promised climax as Damian grew longer and thicker inside her.

  “Look at me when I come inside you, Aria.”

  She opened her eyes, met his heat-filled gaze as he filled her wall to wall, stretching her at the same time her body swelled, the pressure building until she had no choice but to release it.

  She heard her own screams from afar as the orgasm overtook her, heard Damian’s groan as he poured into her.

  She was lost in his eyes as her body shuddered around him, her channel tightening on his shaft as he thrust into her again and again, their orgasms going on and on as they came together.

  She held his head in her hands, fighting the urge to close her eyes until the last tremor had shaken her body and she collapsed against his shoulder, his arms tightening around her, pressing her body into his until she didn’t know where he ended and she began.

  Their breathing had slowed by the time he pulled back, holding onto her hips as he kissed his way down her chest. She leaned back in his arms, allowing him access to her stomach, his lips covering every inch of it with tender kisses.

  Then she knew: this was it, the place where he ended and she began.

  The child that was a convergence of them both.

  That they would both kill to protect.

  Twenty-Four

  Damian was still thinking about her when he left for the city the next morning. For once, she’d stayed asleep, and he’d sat for a long time on the edge of the bed, watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed, following the line of her body to the stomach where their child grew.

  He couldn’t help wondering if her previous sleeplessness had been related to the secret she’d felt the need to keep from him. He would have to tread carefully over the next few months to prove that he didn’t want to contain her spirit.

  He didn’t blame her for being unable to articulate what she wanted from him. She was right; neither of them knew what was coming, what it would take to get Gatti off the chess board.

  But they weren’t likely to get lucky. They would have to seek out Gatti, would have to plan and strategize. Damian had no doubt Aria would want to be part of those plans, just like he had no doubt he’d want to keep her from being a part of them.

  But that’s not what love was. Aria was teaching him that.

  Love wasn’t control or dominance. Love, real love, meant giving the other person room to be who they were. It meant making them feel safe enough to tell you their secrets.

  Aria had told him about the baby, but the fact that she’d waited so long caused him to revisit all their old arguments about her involvement in bringing the New York territory under control, in eliminating Anastos and Gatti.

  Damian had tried to meet her halfway, but he’d also put his foot down on more than one occasion, and looking back, he couldn’t think of a single situation where he would do things differently.

  He’d done what he’d done to protect her.

  What would he do when those occasions arose in the future? How would they resolve Aria’s need for closure — to participate actively in that closure — with his need to protect her?

  The answers didn’t become any clearer as he left the house, drove into the city, and pulled up outside the Cavallo building.

  He stepped out of the car and texted Cole to have one of the men move it before Damian was ticketed. Then he made his way through the lobby to the elevator.

  He nodded at the receptionist and continued into his office. He was still getting settled when he summoned Cole.

  He arrived less then ten seconds later looking like he’d already been in the office for hours. He leaned in the doorway, a piece of paper in his hands.

  “Morning, boss.”

  Damian suddenly wondered about the current state of Cole’s personal life. There had been a time when they’d discussed women, but they’d been so preoccupied with taking the New York territory that it had been a long time since they’d had the kind of casual, low-key conversations that had once been commonplace over platters of food at Giorgio’s.

  “How are you, Cole?”

  Cole shifted on his feet. “Fine.”

  “What’s going on?” Damian asked.

  Cole’s expression became guarded. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s been a while since we’ve really talked,” Damian said. “I just thought I’d check in. Anything new?”

  Cole hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

  Damian wondered if Cole had found a regular woman or if he was still tomcatting around the city, getting laid in between the action at work.

  It wasn’t Damian’s business, but he couldn’t help wanting the same kind of happiness for Cole that he’d found with Aria.

  “Maybe you should take some time off after all this is over,” Damian suggested. “A little R&R.”

  “Work is my R&R.”

  “It shouldn’t be,” Damian said.

  Cole looked confused, but there was something else behind it, a shadow of truth he might have been hiding from even himself.

  “If you say so,” Cole said.

  It had always been that way with Cole — and with Damian, too. They found pleasure in the action of the business, in building wealth at an extraordinary rate.

  And yes, in random women they planned never to see again.

  Back then, there had been no warm embrace waiting for Damian, no lights on in the windows of the Westches
ter house. There had been no quiet dinners at the little table in the kitchen, no nights by the fire in the study with a woman that Damian felt in his bones.

  It had been a shell of an existence. He just hadn’t known it at the time.

  Damian studied him a moment longer before returning his attention to work. “Any hits on the security cam cross-reference?”

  “One.” Cole moved into the room and handed Damian the paper in his hand, then sat in one of the chairs across from Damian’s desk. “Appeared in three of the locations Aria named as frequent haunts of Gatti’s.”

  Damian looked down at the piece of paper: Danny Galanos, thirty-four years old, born in Queens, current residence in Brooklyn.

  There were three photographs of the man, each taken from one of the security cams near the sites flagged by Aria. The pictures depicted a lanky man with angular features and an aquiline nose under a shock of dark hair.

  Damian tossed the piece of paper onto his desk. “I assume we’ve checked the Brooklyn address?”

  “Affirmative,” Cole said. “It’s clean, but it doesn’t look like he’s been gone long.”

  “Run him through the facial recognition software and cross-reference all the available cams in and around the city,” Damian said.

  “You got it,” Cole said.

  He glanced at the picture still on his desk. He should have been happy they might have identified Gatti’s courier, that he was on the run. Instead a deep vein of dread ran through him like a toxic river.

  “What are you thinking?” Cole asked him.

  Damian sighed. “I’m thinking if Gatti’s money man is MIA, Gatti will be more desperate.”

  “Good,” Cole said. “He’ll make a mistake, do something stupid as he tries to fortify his resources, especially since Anastos’ men are probably out of the picture.”

  “Or he’ll get desperate enough to make a bigger play,” Damian said. “One we don’t expect.”

  Lines formed on Cole’s forehead. “Like what?”

  Damian thought about Aria as she’d looked that morning, asleep on her back like a child, hair splayed out across the pillow, drawing breath through slightly parted lips.

  He didn’t have anything else that mattered.

  Gatti had already bombed the Franklin Street shelter, had already hit the Tribeca apartment.

  Aria had to be next on his list of targets.

  “I don’t now, but send five more men out to the house tonight,” Damian said. It seemed excessive even to him. The guards assigned to the house in Westchester were armed to the hilt and already covering some of the same ground. But there was a reason Farrell had men in the woods, and it wasn’t just to make Jenna comfortable. “Assign them to the woods just to be safe.”

  “I’ll come too,” Cole said. “I can stay awake in the house in case Gatti’s dumb enough to make that move.”

  Damian nodded and rubbed his hand over his face. “There’s something else you should know.”

  “What is it?” Cole asked.

  “Aria’s pregnant,” Damian said. “I just found out last night.”

  He tried to temper his pride as he said the words, aware that Cole might need time to get used to the idea, but Cole’s face immediately broke into a grin.

  “You’re going to be a father?” He stood, extended his hand. “That’s incredible. Congratulations. You must be over the moon.”

  Damian stood to shake his hand, finally allowing himself to display the grin he’d been suppressing since the night before.

  “What’s higher than the moon?” Damian said. “Because I’m somewhere beyond that.”

  Cole laughed. “How is she feeling?”

  Damian laughed. “She’s afraid I’m going to lock her in the house until the baby comes.”

  “A distinct possibility,” Cole said.

  Damian sighed. “Except she won’t have it, so I’m still figuring that out.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Cole said. “And you’re going to be a great father. Is there anything I can do?”

  Damian grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, you can stay with us tonight and keep your gun handy.”

  Cole nodded. “I’m there. You know I’m there."

  Twenty-Five

  Aria grabbed a cart inside the grocery store and started down the aisle, looking at the list of supplies she’d made on her phone. Damian had been taking care of dinner — either bringing it home or spearheading their joint efforts in the kitchen — but she’d been struck with a strange desire to make him a cake for dessert.

  A beautiful, from-scratch cake.

  She would cover it in a thick layer of yellow icing in honor of their baby — the first of many cakes she would make for him and their child.

  She had no idea why the desire to bake had struck; she’d never been big on baking in the past. But she’d suddenly had the urge to measure and stir, to present Damian with something wonderful and surprising.

  She felt liberated, the relief of telling Damian about her pregnancy making her feel light on her feet as she made her way through the store.

  She couldn’t even muster annoyance over the fact that Andre trailed her through the aisles, her own private Secret Service, much to the dismay of the other shoppers who looked at her with concern, like Andre might mug her for the flour and sugar in her cart right in front of everyone.

  She would get used to to the security detail. She would get used to it for Damian, and maybe once Malcolm was dead he would ease up a little.

  She hesitated over the cocoa powder, wishing she’d asked Damian if he preferred chocolate cake or something else, then finally threw it in the cart.

  She’d figure it out when she got home.

  When she came to the candles she impulsively threw a number “0” into the cart. She would put it on the cake and they would make a wish for the child growing inside her, for their life together.

  She loaded her purchase onto the checkout belt and the cashier looked at her with a grin. “Good day?”

  “Excuse me?” Aria asked.

  “You look so happy,” the young woman said. “It’s nice.”

  She hadn’t even been aware she’d been smiling. “I am actually,” she said. “It’s a really good day.”

  “Good for you,” the cashier said with a genuine smile.

  Aria paid for the groceries with the credit card from her account, stupidly pleased that she could do something for Damian all on her own.

  When she got to the car, Enzo opened the door and started to remove the groceries from the cart.

  “Actually, I’d like to do it, if you don’t mind,” Aria said.

  Enzo looked like he wanted to lay a hand across her forehead to check for a fever, but he gamely opened the hatch on the SUV and watched (was he nervous? he looked nervous, like Damian might have his head for letting her unload groceries) as she unloaded the bags.

  “Don’t worry,” she said when she was done. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  She took the cart to the cart corral and returned to the car, sliding into the backseat with a sigh of satisfaction.

  Someday soon she would be one of those moms with a baby in a carrier. She would talk to their son or daughter while they shopped, pointing out the fruits and vegetables, pausing to kiss its velvety cheek.

  Then she would go home, put the baby down for a nap, and practice in the firing range.

  Andre got into the passenger seat without a word and Enzo started the car. Aria watched out the window as they left town behind, continuing along the windy wooded roads that led to the house.

  She never thought she could enjoy living anywhere but the city, but she’d gotten used to the quiet of the country, the muffled silence when it snowed, the wind blowing through the trees after a storm.

  It was an ideal place to raise their baby, a place where he or she could chase fireflies in the summer and still be exposed to all the culture and sophistication offered by the city.

  She thought about the empty rooms inside t
he house, trying to decide which of the ones close to the master suite would be best for the baby. She would go upstairs later this week and look at the views from the windows, choose the one that offered the best potential as a place to read, the one that would be bathed in golden light in the summer and offer a view of snow falling on the field in winter.

  They stopped at the gate outside the house and Enzo keyed in the code. The car inched forward, picking up speed along the drive flanked by trees.

  Her heart swelled with gratitude when the house came into view.

  Damian would be home soon. She would surprise him with the cake and they would have seconds, eating it with their fingers on the bed after they made love.

  They pulled up next to the house and Aria got out of the car.

  “We’ll get the bags,” Andre said.

  She contemplated carrying them in herself, but there were a lot of them, and it seemed like a bridge too far in terms of making a point.

  They were almost to the wide steps leading to the front door when Enzo slowed his steps.

  “What the hell…?”

  Aria looked at him, then followed his line of sight upward.

  At first she didn’t see anything unusual, the overcast sky an ambiguous series of gray clouds, one blending into the other.

  A moment later, she picked up on a faint buzzing in the air.

  And that’s when she noticed the dark speck approaching the house from the sky.

  Twenty-Six

  Damian had Cole stop at Aria’s favorite Thai food restaurant for dinner before heading home. He would miss his quiet night alone with her, but he hadn’t seen Cole much lately, and he was looking forward to his company.

  The added security of knowing he was on hand if Gatti tried something at the house was a bonus.

  They were discussing the assets they’d taken over from the Fiore organization when they pulled through the gate at the front of the Westchester property.

  “It would be a mistake to fire them all,” Damian said as they started up the long drive. “Some of them will dissipate on their own, but others may take up arms against us. The territory will be more profitable if it’s at peace.”