Gian (Trassato Crime Family #1)(42)

“You look f*cking beautiful sprawled out on my bed with pink cheeks, parted lips, and your heavy eyes.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

His pants pooled on the floor, and his belt buckle jingled. I barely blinked twice, and his body had already covered mine. He pulled my nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, and grazing the sensitive bud.

His tongue leisurely flicked over my nipple, and I arched my back. The chilly breeze from the fan wafted over my skin. Less than a second later, his hot mouth pressed against the top of my breast, sucking hard. Lifting his head, he grinned at the little red mark dotting my pale skin.

“Nice,” he mumbled.

I didn’t object, because a little part of me liked the idea of him branding me as his if only temporarily.

His hand snaked between our bodies, his fingers moving with confidence over my already slick flesh. He found my opening, sank one finger deep inside of me, and I shuddered, my inner walls tightening in an entreaty for more.

Gian swore under his breath, and I could smell a hint of wine on his breath. He withdrew his finger and guided the broad head of his penis into place.

His lambent gaze collided with mine. “Can’t wait,” he said, his voice a wicked growl.

With one violent flex of his hips, he surged into me. I stiffened, my breath quickening. My fists knotted in the duvet cover beneath me.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” The rumbling timbre of his voice ignited a full body shiver that sunk deep into my bones.

He pulled back and then slid in again a fraction, rocking against me, moving deeper little by little with every micro-thrust until he was exactly where I needed him to be. My hands curled into the rope-like muscles lining his spine. The headboard banged against the wall. Sweat glistened on his brow. His hair stuck up, and his teeth were clamped together. Our moans morphed into one heady sound.

Every stray thought evaporated, and I could only think about him and the way he felt inside of me. My entire body sang with a pleasure so devastatingly perfect I feared I’d spontaneously combust.

I panted, desperate for the release building with every second. His name tumbled from my lips along with a hundred other disjointed thoughts, each one more lurid in my mind than in expression.

I slid my hands up his back to his neck, pulling his lips against mine, needing to taste him, needing to be connected in every way possible. I gasped when our lips separated, and he nipped my bottom lip. I bucked beneath him, my nails digging into his scalp. I was close. So close. I felt him everywhere.

My legs shuddered. My hands tingled. My skin prickled. My toes curled. Before I could break down every spine-tingling sensation, I shattered into a million pieces. My eyes pinching closed, I rode the waves of pleasure speeding through me until my muscles unwound bit-by-bit.

Seconds later, Gian collapsed on me, the course smatterings of hair on his chest rubbing against my nipples and his hips surging into me with enough force that I slid up the bed with every thrust. He grunted out my full name as he came, the four syllables echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a benediction.

My senses came back to me piecemeal, as if I were awakening from a long, drug-induced sleep.

I felt him inside of me. I felt the heavy weight of his body over mine, the pounding of his heart against my chest, the sheen of sweat coating our bodies. And I felt content. Better than content. I was happy.

The second the thought took root, regret reared its ugly head, creeping into the fissures of my already wounded heart. As fast as the emotion materialized, I mentally beat it back with a stick. I was living in the moment tonight and for the foreseeable future because all my plotting and planning hadn’t got me anywhere noteworthy.

I ruffled my fingers through his hair, and he groaned, rolling off me. When he opened his mouth to say something, I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to hear his thoughts. I didn’t want to think. I curled my body around his, sliding my leg up over his, and pretended fate was on my side and everything would work out the way it was meant to.





CHAPTER





TWENTY-THREE


Gian



A sharp thud sounded at the door to my office at my club. I slammed my laptop closed and rubbed a hand down the side of my face. It’d been a week since the brick incident and that ridiculous car chase on the way home from my engagement party, and I still didn’t have a single f*cking lead. I didn’t know if the two incidents were connected. I didn’t know the players or their motivations. While the strain of not knowing what was going on was annoying at first, it had grown to the point where it felt like a goddamn monkey I couldn’t get off my back.

“Come in.”

Nico strutted into my office like he owned the place, with his dark hair slicked back and some dumbass double-breasted pinstriped suit that made him look like a 1920s gangster. What a fool. He slid into the chair in front of my desk and hooked his ankle on the opposite knee.

He called earlier wanting to discuss some shit. I assumed it had to do with crap happening in my life, so I agreed. I was desperate. Sal had torn Brighton Beach apart looking for clues and called in half a dozen favors that led absolutely nowhere. And Tony…well, he hadn’t found out anything about the black SUV either, which wasn’t unexpected. Rumor had it, he spent most of his time digging into Evie’s background rather than the stuff I asked him to do. I didn’t understand what Dominick expected to find. She was raised on a f*cking cornfield in Nebraska. What could be so sinister about that?