He was buried to the hilt, and I moaned while arching into him. His forehead dropped to mine as I sucked in a ragged breath. Holy shit.
Pulling his head back, Enzo gritted out a string of Italian words I didn’t recognize. As he gazed deep into my eyes, a fluttery sensation overwhelmed me, and I felt . . . whole.
I couldn’t hold back the tears burning my eyes as he started to move again, slowly stretching me, filling me to perfection. “You’re my forever,” I breathlessly confessed.
He studied me, and an unexpected sheen covered his eyes. “Mine, too,” he whispered, leaning in to softly kiss me. And then . . . holy shit . . . he let me have it.
Harder. Faster. Pistoning in and out.
Meeting him thrust for thrust, I ground my hips against his as he hit my sensitive bundle of nerves. Every. Single. Time. “Oh God,” I cried and began a slow murmur of chants in between breathless moans as I climbed the mountain of ecstasy.
“Come for me, Tesoro,” he said a few minutes later, straining like he was doing his best not to lose himself first.
My body tightened, toes curled, and every part of me was on fire as I fought back the urge to scream so loud that everyone in the house-mansion would hear me.
Slapping a hand over my mouth while maintaining hold of his other arm, I cried against my palm as my release tore through me.
Studying me, Enzo’s jaw tightened, and I felt his cock jerk and thrum as he reached his release. He groaned, and when my tired arm fell to my side, my hand leaving my mouth, he bent in and set his lips to mine. He kissed me softly as he rode the rest of his orgasm, and I surrendered to the rest of mine.
I knew after this, I’d never be the same again. I’d never accept anything other than what I deserved. And this man made me feel like I deserved the entire world, and God willing, he’d stay with me in that world forever.
“Enzo!” Constantine’s deep voice, and the harsh rap at the door, throttled me free from the moment. I shivered at the realization of what was about to happen, that Enzo would be leaving me. “Dad’s home. We need to talk to him, and then it’s wheels up.”
TWENTY-FOUR
Enzo
“This is un-fucking-acceptable!” Dad bellowed, chucking his glass of scotch into the fireplace before pacing his office. My brothers and I remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.
“The evidence was stacked against him,” Dad continued, struggling to grapple with everything we’d shared. “You’re telling me for thirteen fucking years my daughter’s murderer has been walking the streets?”
Dad’s attention landed on Constantine. As the eldest son, he would have inevitably taken the brunt of Dad’s anger. “This is my fault. I should’ve looked deeper.” He stepped forward, his apology doing nothing to alter Dad’s vicious stare.
Facing the fireplace again, Dad’s shoulders broke forward, a touch of that vitriol pointed at my brother waning. “What’s your plan?”
Taking the lead, Constantine explained how we planned to meet up with Carter’s team in Syracuse to take the cleaner in for questioning. “We’ll figure this out, you have my word.” He glanced at Alessandro, then over at me. “I know Mom never wanted us to follow in your footsteps after you left Italy, but I suppose it was fate that we did. We may have let you down, but we—”
“It wasn’t fate.” Dad sighed and went over to his desk. He dropped onto the leather swivel chair, his eyes coasting back to the raging fire.
“I didn’t mean about Bianca’s death,” Constantine quickly stated, his tone harsh with regret.
Dad waved a hand in the air, an apologetic frown on his face. “What I meant is you followed in my footsteps because I put you on that path.”
My arms fell to my sides as I stepped forward, Alessandro mirroring my actions. Did we just hear him right?
“It was my idea.” He reached for a new glass on his desk and poured himself another drink. “I called in a favor in Washington. A big fucking favor, borderline blackmail.”
“You’re telling me you arranged our ‘get out of prison’ deal? You’re why we became mercenaries for the government? Taking kill-or-be-killed-type orders on missions from that shadowy group that made the CIA look like the Boy Scouts?” I hadn’t realized I’d walked all the way to his desk and planted my hands on it, but there I was, ready to square off with my old man.
“I wasn’t about to let my sons rot in prison for doing the right thing.” He sipped his drink, eyes falling to the amber-colored liquid, and he swirled it around. “I didn’t expect you all to become like me in other ways. Seeking justice in our own city.”