Deep (Pagano Family #4)(46)
“What do you mean?”
“The way the wings are made to have torn through your skin, and the way the barbs are embedded. It all looks as painful as it is beautiful.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Don’t romanticize me, bella. My soul isn’t tormented. I am at peace with who I am. I’m necessary. I’m important in my world. I do what others can’t or won’t, and I keep things in balance.”
He was speaking as if he’d already told her exactly what he did in his world, when in truth he had never said anything more than that he was dangerous. But, then, recalling his explanation of Samael, Bev realized that he had told her exactly what he did. The rumors she’d read were true. He was a killer. A torturer. That was his job.
That should matter, she knew. To normal people, that should matter greatly.
It didn’t.
“You’re tormented tonight.”
“Not because of what I do. Because of who I’ve lost. It’s been a hard few months. Brian was my best friend since I was seven.” He dropped his head and took a long, deep breath. Bev wondered if he ever allowed himself to be truly sad, if he ever cried.
“I’m sorry.” She cradled his head in her hands and kissed his forehead. “So sorry.”
There was nothing she could do to take that kind of pain away or even ease it at all. But she felt a potent emotional connection to him, knowing that he was showing her his pain, that he’d come to her, even the way that he had—especially the way that he had—that he had given her a kind of vulnerability that she already knew he did not offer lightly.
And there was one thing she could do. His head still cradled in her hands, she kissed his forehead again. And then his cheek. His jaw. His mouth. As she pushed her tongue between his lips, she scooted forward on her knees, pushing him back to lean against the back of the sofa. Then she straddled him. Still bare, and still sore and sensitive from earlier, she gasped at the feel of his cock growing hard under her.
His hands went under her nightgown, digging into the muscles over her hips. But he pulled his mouth away. “You’re hurt.”
She shook her head and pulled off her nightgown, then kissed him again. With her lips on his, she murmured, “Not like this.” And then she reached into his pants and pulled his cock free. God, it was big. She still hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but it had felt huge inside her, and now, with her hand around his girth, she had more evidence of his size. She rose up on her knees and settled down again, filling herself with him. He groaned, and his fingers dug in more deeply.
“Oh, God, you feel so good,” she whispered, biting at his lips.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back sharply, making her cry out—but not so far back that it tweaked her ribs. “Are you a talker, bella?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes. I just do what feels right.”
He grinned. She loved his smile so much—everything good in him shone out at her. “I like that,” he said, his voice low. “I like that a lot.”
A fist still tangled in her hair, he pulled her to the side, and his free hand cupped her breast. And then his mouth was on her, for the first time, sucking, nipping, drawing her nipple between his teeth, flicking his tongue back and forth until she was moaning again, unable to keep her hips still.
He released her breast and eased his hold in her hair. “Your body is so beautiful. Bellissima.”
She stilled and smiled at him, needing to challenge him. “I’m not built like the other women I’ve seen you with.”
“Don’t, Beverly.” His expression closed, and his tone was impatient. “Don’t do that thing that women do. I don’t respond well to that passive-aggressive bullshit. I gave you a compliment.”
“I wasn’t fishing for another compliment or throwing yours back.” She moved to get off of him, but he held her hips firmly in place. “I like the way I look. It took a lot of soul-searching to get to that place. I made an observation. Since I moved in, I’ve seen you with three different women. They all looked pretty much alike, Nick. The logical observation is that you have a type. And I don’t look like they do.”
He eased, and even smiled a little again. “Point taken. You are different. You’re unique among women I’ve known, inside and out. I love your body, especially now that my hands are full of you. You are visibly strong, and yet when I hold you, you…yield.” For emphasis, he squeezed his fingers into the muscle of her thighs. “That’s a potent feeling. Your breasts are supple and sweet, and you move in wonderful ways when I touch them.” His hands moved to her breasts, and his fingers pinched her nipples firmly, then twisted, and her entire body clenched into a knot of fierce, sudden pleasure.
As she clenched around him, he groaned. “I want to f*ck you again, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“Let me f*ck you, then.” She flexed her hips, drawing him back and forth inside her until they were both panting, and his hands came up to hold her face. He stared into her eyes, and Bev comprehended that he didn’t give up even that much control. So when he nodded, she knew what he was giving her. Another way he was opening himself to her.
Maybe it was his vulnerability and need on this night making him so open to her. Maybe he would regret it later. But he’d said he didn’t do things he regretted.