A plea I can’t ignore. I slide my free hand up her stomach and to her breasts, pinching gently at her nipple as my mouth teases her entrance, which sends her right off the edge with a scream. Her hips surge from the bed as violent shudders rack her body. I work my tongue through every tremor, holding her still as she rides the wave, lapping at her arousal like a man possessed and getting lost in it all. In her.
“Oh God…Nico!”
Her orgasm seems to last forever, and she’s still trembling when I pull away. Her dazed eyes meet mine, and I read the surprise in them. I would laugh if my own body weren’t one slight touch from the edge. I realize there is no way I’m goingto last more than a few seconds inside her, and myprincipessadeserves to be savored and loved properly for her first time.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” I’m wound tight, tense and aching for her when I climb up her trembling body. I pull her flush against me and shove down my boxers before sliding my cock between her thighs, even as my lips find hers. She whimpers when I press against her and grind. “Look what you do to me, princess,” I rasp against her lips. She whimpers at the friction, rocking forward to meet my thrusts, and Christ, it’s so tempting to slide my cock into her, fuck her blind, into oblivion, but I don’t.
“Feels…Nico…”
“I know, baby,” I breathe, holding her tight against me as I rub my cock against her wet folds, blood roaring in my head as I teeter closer to the edge. I squeeze her ass hard as my hips roll faster, blind with need. “So close…”
She comes first, her lips parting against mine with a sob as a shudder racks her body. My muscles lock, and my balls draw painfully at the threat of my own climax. When it comes, it hits with a force that sends dark spots bursting behind my eyes. My fingers tighten on her as my cock jerks between her legs, spilling my cum over her pussy and thighs
“Fuuuck!” I growl as I rock my hips against hers, dragging the tip of my cock between her folds and over her entrance.
Mine.
Only mine.
I hold her close to me as the tremors ease, and I realize that I would face the Rossis—all of their wrath—for her. I’ll kill the faceless man from her painting to keep her. For several minutes, neither of us says a word, and it’s not until the roaringin my head clears that I pull back to look at Gabriella, uncertain what I’ll see in her eyes, but I nearly laugh when I realize that she’s fallen asleep.
I stroke her face, marveling at what the hell she is thinking, letting a flawed man like me touch her. She’s perfect. An angel in this godforsaken world, and she sure as hell deserves better. I hold her close, listening to her soft breathing before finally finding the strength to pull away. I walk to the bathroom and clean up before bringing a warm cloth back with me to the room. I run it gently between her legs, clean her up, then set it aside before joining her back in bed. She burrows into me the second I pull her into my arms, her contented, sleepy sigh doing something to my heart no woman has ever done.
My mind drifts back to the painting of Gabriella flying into the arms of another man, and that turns my blood cold. My hands tighten around her as I vow to do everything to stop that from happening.
She’s mine. I’ll be damned if I let someone else take her from me.
Chapter Five
Gabriella
I wake up to a familiar scent—clean and crisp, a hint of fresh citrus and white musk beneath something warmer, woodsy. Patchouli and vetiver. My eyes are still closed, my mind half-tethered to sleep, but something about that scent pulls at me. Grounds me. I could get used to this, I realize—waking to quiet mornings and to the smell of...My pillow moves. A slight shift that makes my eyes snap open. My eyes blink at the desert morning sun that is beginning to peek through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes of gold across the plush carpet of the suite. I blink slowly, trying to adjust to the light. My head is a little fuzzy as I register the warmth pressed against my back—and the weight around my waist.
Oh my God.
Where is the pillow wall? I spent a solid ten minutes building that thing last night—arranging every spare cushion in a stern little barrier down the center of the bed. And now, it’s gone, and there is a warm hand circling my waist, and I am very much pressed against a chest that is very much not a pillow.
I’m afraid to look down at the warm body pressed against mine, but I force myself to. Slowly, I take in the tattooed peccushioning my head—very firm, very naked—and feel heat climb up my neck. Oh, and did I mention naked? I slap a hand over my mouth as I lift my eyes to the man the pec belongs to. He’s sleeping, golden hair mussed against the pillow, lips slightly parted, a granite jaw that needs a shave. I watch him for a moment, tracing the curve of his lips with my eyes and admiring the way the light catches the stubble on his cheek, but Christ, those lips…
And just like that, everything comes rushing back.
One moment, I remember nothing, and the next, I recall everything. It’s almost like a blindfold has been pulled from my eyes, and the gasp that slips out is audible enough to wake the sleeping giant. I’m half afraid it will completely awaken before I have time to process what happened last night. He stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before the arm around my waist tightens.
We kissed last night. Oh, we did more than just kiss. The memory of Nico’s head buried between my thighs is enough to bring a flush to my cheeks. And my body remembers, too, as little aches make themselves known. The way he gripped my hips as he rubbed his erection against my aching core.
Oh God, it really did happen. It wasn’t a dream at all.
I glance back at the handsome man lying on the bed and chew on my bottom lip as I try to make sense of everything that’s happened between us. Two weeks ago, Nico stole my first kiss right before he pulled away and left me confused. But last night…there was such hunger in the way he kissed me, almost like he never wanted to let go.
Christ, will he wake up and walk away again like he did that night?
“Sometimes, I forget that you’re a morning person,” he grumbles sleepily, his voice hoarse and so freaking sexy. “You were always up and about in the mornings whenever I stayed over working late with Matteo.”
“You’re awake,” I whisper, my heart racing when he opens a single eye.
“How can I sleep with all those wheels in your head turning so loudly?” he grumbles, pulling my head back down on his chest and holding it in place. “Sleep. It’s still early.”
It’s tempting to go back to sleep, ignore everything, and just stay here, tucked against his chest. I can pretend the world outside doesn’t exist. But it does, and in it, I’m in bed with Nico—my stepbrother—who kissed me, touched me, pulled me apart with those hands. He seems entirely unbothered while I’m silently unraveling.