by Cora Reilly
Aria was obviously annoyed by my comment, but it was the truth.
“So what am I supposed to do?” she asked, eyeing the knife uncertainly. It was obvious from the way she held it that she’d never fought with one before.
“Try to land a hit. If you manage to cut me, you win. I want to see how you move.”
Aria glanced around us for a moment before she straightened her shoulders. She lunged forward, and I was surprised by how fast she could move, but I sidestepped her unpracticed attack easily. It was harder to grip her wrist without crushing it, and then I whirled her around until her back was pressed enticingly against my front.
“You don’t have my knife yet,” Aria said breathlessly.
I tightened my hold on her wrist ever so slightly then lowered my head to her ear. “I would have to hurt you to get it. I could break your wrist, for example, or just bruise it.” Aria held her breath, her pulse thudding under my fingers. I released her and she quickly dashed out of my reach, whirling around to face me once more.
“Again,” I said.
Fighting Aria was fun, and I could tell that she was growing annoyed by her inability to hit me. I’d never been beaten in a fight, and those men had been Made Men with years of experience and twice Aria’s weight.
When she tried to kick my balls, I snatched up her foot and tugged. I underestimated her momentum and she landed hard on her back, gasping and dropping the knife.
I knelt beside her, touching her belly. “Are you okay?” I murmured, trying to look calm because my soldiers were watching.
Aria’s eyes fluttered open. “Yeah. Just trying to catch my breath.” She glanced behind me toward my men. “Don’t you have a soldier who’s only five foot something and terrified of his own shadow who would be willing to fight me?”
There were definitely a few men around who would be easier opponents for Aria, but I’d never let anyone fight her, not even in jest. “My men aren’t terrified of anything,” I said loudly as I helped Aria to her feet before I faced them. “Anyone willing to fight my wife?”
A few of them laughed, and others quickly shook their head.
“You’ll have to fight me,” I told Aria.
Aria definitely didn’t want to give up, but I could tell that she was tiring. I was holding her against my body once again when a sharp pain in my bicep startled me. I loosened my hold and Aria managed to slip away, but before she could bring the knife down, I grabbed her wrist. My eyes darted to the spot on my upper arm where she had left teeth marks. “Did you bite me?”
“Not hard enough. There isn’t even blood,” she said, her lips twisting with amusement.
My stomach shook, but I held the laughter back. Aria’s eyes shone with pride as she peered up at me. Fuck. I wanted to laugh, but with my men watching, I couldn’t. A few low chuckles escaped anyway. Aria grinned.
I shook my head. “I think you’ve done enough damage for one day.”
Aria had never been more relaxed around me than after our training. It had allowed us to be close physically without her having time to worry about where it might lead. “Let’s get takeout,” I said on our way home. “What are you in the mood for?”
Aria pursed her lips. “I’ve never tried sushi.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Never?”
She shook her head. “But I’d like to give it a try. Maybe I’ll like it.”
There were so many other things she’d definitely like if she gave them a try, but I swallowed the words, not wanting her to get tense again.
I drove past my favorite sushi place and picked a selection of everything so Aria would find something she’d like, before we headed back home and settled outside on the roof terrace with our food and a bottle of wine. Aria tried every piece of sushi eagerly, nodding and humming her approval. I loved watching her.
“I’m surprised,” Aria said as she settled against the backrest. I had my arm thrown over it, close to her bare shoulders. I wasn’t sure what she was referring to. “I didn’t think you’d really try.”
“I told you I would. I keep my word,” I said. I wanted this marriage to work.
“I bet this is hard for you.” Aria motioned at the space between us.
“You have no idea. I want to kiss you really fucking bad.”
Aria’s eyes flitted to my lips. I put my glass back down on the table and leaned closer, touching her waist. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you.”
Aria opened her mouth, but she didn’t say anything. Slowly, I leaned forward, giving her time to pull back, but she didn’t. I kissed her, forcing myself to go slow, but soon our kiss became more heated. It was a struggle to keep my hand on her waist and not explore the rest of her body. I pushed my thumb under her shirt and rubbed her bare skin. Aria moaned softly into my mouth. I wasn’t sure if she even noticed. I guided her back gently until she was stretched out on the lounge and I was half bent over her.
Aria tasted so fucking sweet as my tongue claimed her mouth. I could tell she was growing more and more aroused by the way she rubbed her thighs together.
I raised my head to gaze at her flushed face.
“I could make you feel good, Aria,” I said, my fingers twitching eagerly on her hip, wanting to head south. “You want to come, don’t you?”
Conflict danced in Aria’s eyes, but then a determined glint took over. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
My stomach twitched with suppressed laughter. “You are so stubborn.” I knew she was wet. The way she’d pressed herself into me, the way she’d moaned…Fuck.
I claimed her lips once more, my tongue teasing hers as I wanted to do with her pussy, my finger rubbing circles right above her waistband, knowing she’d feel it between her legs too, but Aria stayed true to her words, even as she panted and moaned and shivered under my kiss. Eventually I had to stop, because my dick was so fucking hard in my pants, it got too uncomfortable.
Aria blinked up at me dazedly.
“We’d better stop now,” I groaned. “My pants are getting tight.”
Aria looked smug and embarrassed at the same time. I chuckled, pressed another kiss to her mouth, then pushed to my feet and pulled Aria with me. She held on to my hand for once, surprising me, and fuck if that didn’t feel like a major victory. It was even worth the blue balls I suffered through all night as Aria slept in my arms.
CHAPTER 12
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling me awake. I carefully untangled Aria from me and she rolled over. Grabbing the phone, I stood. It was Cesare. I quickly took the call.
“What’s the matter?”
“The Bratva chopped up one of our chemists and spread his remains around the Sphere.”
“Is someone taking care of it?”
“The cleaning squad is already there.”
“All right, I’ll be there as quickly as I can. Did you call Matteo already?”
“No.”
“I’ll do it then.”
I called my brother, agreeing to meet in fifteen minutes before I returned to the bedroom and quickly picked out clothes and grabbed my guns.
When I was dressed, I headed into the hallway once more, telling Romero that he needed to come over sooner, then I went into the bedroom to wake Aria.
But she was already sitting up. “Are you leaving already?”
She actually looked disappointed. “The Bratva got one of ours. They left him in tiny pieces around one of our clubs.”
“Somebody I know?” Aria asked. “Will the police get involved?”
I went over to her. She looked adorable with her tousled blond hair. “Not if I can help it,” I murmured, cupping her face. “I’ll try to be home early, okay?”
Aria gave a small nod and I dipped my head down to kiss her. She didn’t flinch or draw back when our lips touched. Instead, she parted for me. I took her up on the invitation, eagerly deepening the kiss, but eventually duty called. I pulled back and left quickly.
The Bratva had graffitied their fucking Kalashinikovs onto the entrance of
the Sphere, and the dead chemist wasn’t the only one they’d killed. One of our most successful dealers had also been dismembered and left in his backyard with the same goddamn graffiti on his house front.
“Fucking Russians,” Matteo muttered.
“It’s another warning. They want their drugs back,” Cesare said with a frown.
A group of Famiglia soldiers had stolen the Russian’s last drug delivery in retribution for their attack on one of our drug labs.
“We need to send them a response,” Matteo said.
The Famiglia cleaning squad, a group of initiates mostly, tried to remove the Kalashnikov graffiti. They’d already got rid of the blood stains on the walls and pavements, but the graffiti was harder to wash off.
I called my father again, hating that I needed to get his okay for possible actions. He picked up after ten rings, as usual making me wait. “I’m busy.”
Not with business, that was clear. “We need to send the Bratva a clear warning. They’re becoming too daring.”
Father was silent. His disinterest in the Russians would cost us everything at some point. “I’ll call Fiore.”
“Fiore isn’t here. He doesn’t know what’s going on in New York, and he probably doesn’t give a fuck. The Outfit won’t help us. They have their own problems. We need to act now. We can’t wait for you and Fiore to discuss every fucking thing in detail. The Russians are turning us into fools.”
Cesare stared at me as if I’d lost my mind for talking to my Capo like that, but I didn’t give a fuck. I cared about the Famiglia, and if my father posed a risk to it, he needed to realize it.
“You aren’t Capo yet, Luca. You won’t be Capo for a long time, and you might not become Capo at all if I declare you as unworthy, don’t forget it.”
Most of the soldiers in New York already trusted my judgment more than his. I didn’t say anything.
“Do what must be done so the Russians know their place,” he said eventually.
“Will do,” I got out, then hung up.
“I like the look on your face,” Matteo said with his shark-grin.
“We’ll attack one of their labs. They want their fucking drugs back? We’ll steal more of it and crush a few Bratva assholes.”
Matteo clapped his hand, grinning. “That sounds like my kind of entertainment.”
I turned to Cesare. “Choose ten men to join us.”
We couldn’t allow the Bratva to destroy our drug trade. New York was our city. It was my city, and no one would take it from me.
The attack was bloody, brutal, and exhilarating, but it was a success, even if the Bratva almost caught us by surprise by the end. After hours of killing and torturing Russian bastards for information on possible future attacks, a veil of darkness seemed to cloak my mind, a need for more violence, more blood. I didn’t bother getting out of my blood-soaked clothes before heading home. I just wanted to see Aria, wanted to feel that calm and belonging her closeness miraculously brought me.
But I was barely myself, or maybe I was my true self in those moments of mindless bloodshed, of unrestrained cruelty. It was difficult to say. More monster or man? Before Aria, the answer would have been easy…
Romero eyed me worriedly when I entered the apartment. “Are you okay? Or do you want me to stay?”
“Leave,” I growled, my eyes latching onto Aria, who lay on the couch.
“She couldn’t sleep because she was worried about you, and then she fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t want to carry her upstairs.”
I gave him a harsh look and he finally stepped into the elevator and disappeared. Slowly, I stalked closer to my beautiful wife. She was in her satin nightgown, revealing her slender legs and the enticing swell of her breasts.
Mine. Only mine. So fucking beautiful.
A dark hunger unfurled in my body, a need to finally claim the woman before me. I slid my hands under her back and legs, then lifted her into my arms. She smelled sweet and innocent. I wanted to corrupt her, to taste her, to fuck her. I wanted to make her mine.
“Luca?” Aria’s soft voice echoed through the pounding in my ears, through the fog that always clung to me after hours of screams and shooting.
I carried Aria into our room and lay her down on our bed. My eyes traced her body in the dark. She was like a beacon of light in the black of the room.
She moved, and the room was flooded with light.
Aria’s eyes met mine. Wide, fearful.
My gaze dipped to the swell of her breasts once more, then continued to her narrow waist and down to the valley between her thighs.
“Luca?”
I could have died today. I could die tomorrow.
I could die without having tasted every inch of my wife, without having claimed her.
I got out of my blood-soaked shirt then unbuckled my belt. My hands were steady, always steady, no matter what they did. They didn’t shake when I pulled the trigger, when I cut a throat or when I skinned a fucker.
“Luca, you’re scaring me. What happened?”
I shoved down my pants and knelt on the bed before wedging one of my knees between Aria’s legs. I leaned over my wife, my eyes taking in the way her breasts rose and fell with every breath. Mine to claim.
Aria lifted her hands and touched my cheek, warm and soft and careful.
I blinked, my focus shifting to her face, to her fear-widened eyes, the barely contained terror in her expression. Man or monster?
I dipped my face down into the crook of her neck and breathed in her flowery scent, feeling her pulse throbbing against my lips. I concentrated on the feel of Aria’s palm against my cheek.
Aria was my wife. Mine to protect.
“Luca?”
I peered at her face. I wouldn’t be a monster with her. I shoved off her and quickly moved into the bathroom. Turning the shower to ice cold, I slipped under the stream, watching as it took away the blood and some of the darkness, but the rest clung to me as it did so often after days like these.
After I’d wrapped a towel around my waist, I strode into the bedroom. Aria watched me warily. I needed to be close to her, needed her to get rid of this fucking darkness for me. I dropped the towel, but Aria quickly rolled over so she wouldn’t see me naked. I slipped under the covers and moved close to her until her warmth seeped into me. Wanting to see her face, I grabbed her hip and rolled her over.
She didn’t resist. I peered down at her as she lay on her back in front of me, her eyes searching my face. I needed her even closer. Closer. Always closer. I reached for her nightgown, wanting that barrier gone, needing to feel her, skin on skin.
Aria touched my hand, stopping me. “Luca.” Her voice held worry, and when I met her gaze, the same worry was reflected in her eyes.
She didn’t have to be scared, not anymore. “I want to feel your body against mine tonight. I want to hold you.”
It was a weak thing to admit, but I didn’t care.
“Only hold me?” she asked, her blue eyes questioning.
“I swear.”
Aria finally allowed me to pull her nightgown over her head, leaving her in only white panties. My eyes raked over her beautiful breasts, the way her pink nipples puckered. I ran my finger along the waistband of her panties, but she froze, and she was probably right. It was better if that small barrier remained between us. I rolled over on my back and took Aria with me so she laid on top of me, her knees beside my waist.
Our chests brushed, but she kept herself suspended as if she worried she could hurt me with her weight. I tightened my hold around her back, pressing her tightly against me. I trailed my palm along Aria’s spine to the curve of her ass and began stroking her lightly. She was tense at first but slowly relaxed when it became clear that I wouldn’t push her.
“Doesn’t your cut need stitches?” Aria asked, her voice drenched with worry.
Worried about me.
I pressed a soft kiss to her mouth, feeling more of the violence drain from my body. “Tomorrow.” These w
ounds didn’t matter, not at all. Tasting my wife did. Those perfect lips. I caressed her ass, my fingertips tracing her panty line, occasionally slipping beneath. So fucking soft.
Aria held my gaze with half-lidded eyes. She brushed her fingertips over my throat, a spot I’d never let anyone touch. Too vulnerable, but with Aria I enjoyed the touch, and then she pressed a kiss to a small wound there. So caring. Aria raised her head and gave me the smallest smile.
I wanted her closer, still closer. My hand cupped her ass cheek and squeezed lightly. My finger grazed her folds though the fabric of her panties.
Aria gasped, tensing on top of me. I watched her closely as I lightly traced her. Soon, her panties were drenched. My cock stirred, but the dark hunger from before had been replaced by a more restrained need.
So wet.
She lowered her eyes in obvious embarrassment and I halted my movements, needing to see her eyes.
“Look at me, Aria,” I ordered, my voice harsher than I wanted. Aria’s eyes darted up, swimming with mortification. How could she be embarrassed when I wanted to scream in triumph over her body’s reaction to my touch?
“Are you embarrassed because of this?” I stroked my fingers along her crease and Aria bucked her hips, her lips falling open in a breathless moan. She was so responsive.
I caressed her carefully, allowing her to get used to my touch, to see that I’d hold back. Her grip on my shoulders tightened and her lips parted as she made small rocking motions. Watching her beautiful face as I guided her closer and closer to her first orgasm, as her juices soaked her panties, it was the best thing I could imagine.
When my fingers slid over her clit, Aria started to tremble, her breathing ragged, and I didn’t take my eyes off her, not for a single second as she came on top of me.
I kept my fingers on her pussy, feeling possessive and wishing she wasn’t wearing panties so I could feel her folds slick with her arousal.
Aria pressed her face into my throat, holding on to me tightly as she tried to catch her breath.
Her pussy was so hot and wet. The thought of burying my cock in her was almost overwhelming. I sunk my nose into her hair, pushing my needs back. If I gave in to them now, things would get out of hand. Too much of the darkness, of the violent energy, still swam close to the surface. “God, you’re so wet, Aria. If you knew how much I want you right now, you’d run away.” A harsh laugh burst out of me. Part of me wanted her to run so I could chase and catch her. The thrill of the hunt, the need to claim. “I can almost feel your wetness on my cock.”
