He reached into the closet to pull down the soft pale mint-green blouse she indicated. He liked the feminine tops she tended to pair with her blue jeans. The fabric was thin and shaped her body lovingly, resting easily against her skin without pressing or rubbing over the wound at her ribs or the surgical incisions where the doctor had gone in to find and stop her internal bleeding. The little buttons were darker green squares that looked to Elie like an invitation to open each one.
It was all he could do to keep his fingers from shaking as he carefully buttoned Brielle into her shirt. He’d been sleeping with his wife every night, holding her close, but careful not to aggravate any of her many wounds, and after the initial terror of nearly losing her had passed, the agony of holding her so close yet not being able to make love to her was driving him mad.
What the hell had Stefano done when Francesca was on bed rest prior to giving birth? Stefano never looked at other women and he had an incredibly healthy sex drive.
Elie had discovered that having Brielle’s soft body right next to him was sheer torture when he couldn’t make love to her. He was going to have to figure something out. Because not holding her close at night was out of the question. He was an inventive man. It was just that he was terrified of hurting her.
Feeling like the most tortured martyr in history, Elie helped Brielle step into lacy boy shorts that slid up and over her cheeks. He really loved the shape of her bottom. He found himself cupping her cheeks and rubbing them. She pushed back into him and he quickly found her leggings before his cock was too full and painful for him to be able to walk.
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“You started it.”
He had. He couldn’t deny it. “Let’s talk about shadow riding and Emme’s penchant for telling people to go to hell. I’ve told you how important you are to me. What it makes me feel like when your life is threatened. I’m a different man than Valentino. He and Emme have their own relationship and they’ve worked out what makes them happy. I can’t take it when I think there’s a possibility I’ll have to live without you. I may not have had you in my life for long, Brielle, but you’ve given me the first true happiness I’ve known. The first true sense of finally having a home. I don’t want to go back to a life without you. Not ever. That has nothing to do with your ability in the shadows; it has everything to do with my issues. My fears and my needs.”
Pulling up her leggings over the thick pad that covered the wound on her thigh was a little trickier than he had thought it would be. He paused to ensure he didn’t jostle it before pulling them up over her hips and then slipping on her shoes while she kept one hand on his shoulder.
“It’s your choice whether or not to fulfill my needs, just as it’s always my choice to look after yours, which includes both of us having sexual cravings in the bedroom. I can’t deal with you shadow riding. You already know that. If you tell me to go to hell, so be it, but then how long would we work? I honestly don’t know, Brielle. How long would you be able to live with me if your passion was to ride the shadows and I told you to stop? That wouldn’t work, either.”
“Fortunately, my passion lies in another direction altogether.”
Her fingers moved through his scalp, a whisper of a caress that trailed down his temple to his jaw. He felt her touch like a brand.
“That would be?” he prompted, just barely keeping his voice from shaking.
“Aside from you, my laptop. I do love the work I do on that.”
“Good that you remembered to put me first. You are healing fast.” He poured sensual threat into his voice.
She took her hair down, looked in the mirror and sighed. “There’s no hope.”
“I love your hair wild. It’s beautiful.” He touched one of the springy curls and leaned forward to kiss her neck. “Emme is not my best friend. She isn’t the one I think of when I want someone to talk something over with. You are. That’s the reason you get those infuriating text messages when you’re working. I get random thoughts and want to share.”
Elie kissed her neck again, used his teeth to scrape back and forth and then sucked at her soft skin. “I’m going to get creative tonight. Think about that when we’re at dinner.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The private elevator leading to Stefano and Francesca’s penthouse apartment opened directly into their foyer. Brielle’s breath caught in her throat. The penthouse was a gorgeous, elegant home, something straight out of a magazine.