43. Claudia

Chapter 43

Claudia

T he smell of coffee drifts upstairs and Angelo appears in the doorway, not wearing much more than a pair of tight shorts and a smile, a steaming mug in either hand. "Don't get up," he scolds when I try to move. "This is a breakfast-in-bed situation."

"Coffee's breakfast?"

"Coffee's the beginning of breakfast." He slides in beside me, on my side, his big body pressed close to mine. "And you're the prelude to coffee." He leans down and kisses me.

"Sometimes it's astonishing how cheesy you are."

"Here's to learning something new about each other all the time." He drinks his coffee and leans his head back with a smile. "The coffee in prison was basically hot piss water. Some of the guys would make these pour-overs using the most godawful filters, and it tasted like sweaty gym socks, and I still drank the stuff."

"How'd you boil the water?"

"An extremely janky device called a Stinger. It was basically two exposed electrical wires attached to a power source. You stick that in your mug or whatever you use and the electric current heats the water up until it's boiling."

"Why called it a Stinger?"

"Because if you touch the water while the Stinger's inside—" He snaps his fingers, and I get the picture.

"A little electric sting. Wow, prison inmates are clever."

"No, not really." He's looking at me like I'm the most glorious person in the entire world, and I could stay right here under that gaze for the rest of my life. The caffeine does its work, and Angelo smells like musk and heaven and man, and I'm tempted to close my eyes for a few more hours. "I was thinking, once you're done with that, we could take a shower. Ideally together."

Or I could keep my eyes very much open. "That could be acceptable."

"Could be? Baby, I need enthusiastic consent if I'm going to touch you."

"Please, Angelo, please, soap me up and fuck me." I say it as over-the-top as I can.

And it still makes his eyes flash with lust. "That's all I needed to hear." He extracts my mug and places it next to his on the nightstand before he drags me into the bathroom and takes off my clothes.

I never would've imagined I'd kiss a man before brushing my teeth first thing in the morning, much less right after drinking coffee, and yet here I am, Angelo's tongue in my mouth and his hands on my skin. He palms my breasts and my ass and I grind my hips against his thigh. Basically humping him. He moans into my mouth, and I moan right back.

The shower is perfect. He sits me right on the ledge where we keep most of our shampoo and soap and stuff, gets between my legs, and licks my pussy until I scream. Warm water beads off his back as he does it. I shudder, nearly black out, then he fucks me into pure oblivion. My legs are jelly and my head is mush by the time we're finished, and it's back to bed for both of us, slightly damp, washed and fresh, but far from clean.

"Is this what we're doing today?" I ask him, head on his chest. His heart beats steady, slow, and strong.

"More or less. Do you have any other ideas?"

"Not even slightly. There's nothing else in the world I'd rather do." I smile to myself and don't look up at him. "Is that weird to admit? I mean, I feel like I wouldn't have said that out loud even just a few days ago."

"It's not weird at all. I feel the same way."

A shiver of excitement and anticipation curls down my spine. "Can I admit something to you?"

"If you're about to tell me that I've got the nicest dick you've ever felt in your whole life, there's no need to say it out loud."

"That's true, but not what I was going to say." I kiss his chest and hold him tighter. "I've never done this before. I mean, I've had boyfriends and stuff when I was younger, but this—" I gesture vaguely around the room with my hands.

"What, lie in bed with a man?"

"No, I mean, just spent the entire day together. And not want to do anything else. You know what I mean? With my other boyfriends it was like I had to be doing something. I couldn't sit still for ten seconds. But with you, I could be in bed all day and never get bored."

His fingers drift through my hair. I love the way he touches me. I love how soft his sheets are, how comfortable his room is. "I know exactly what you mean. Before prison, I never would've wanted to stay in bed for more than the few minutes it takes to wake up. I was always working and rushing around and getting in trouble. Now, when you're here, I want to slow down."

"Did prison change you?"

"Yes, but I think I was changing before that." He sighs and puts his hands behind his head. I stare at his biceps and the veins in his forearms, and I'm amazed by how beautiful this man is. "All my life I've been the youngest Bianco brother, which means I've been the least important."

"That can't be true."

"Simon was the heir and Davide was the warrior. That left me trying to find my own path. And I won't lie, I struggled for a while, at least until I put together my crew." He smiles to himself, far away now. "Tommy was first. We've known each other since we were teenagers. Then Paulie next, and Roc and Vito later on. We clicked, and we caused some fucking mayhem, but as we got older all the running around, the fighting, killing, drugs, money, it all began to get old. I think that was the beginning of the end."

"You think they turned on you because you were tired of being a gangster?"

He laughs softly and shakes his head. "No, baby, I never got tired of that. I think they turned on me because I wasn't ambitious enough. Tommy made bigger promises and that won them over. I was going to raise them up through the Bianco ranks, but Tommy wanted to build his very own crime family."

I can imagine how that might be seductive. In the Bianco Famiglia, there'd be a ceiling to how far they could rise, even working with the son of the Don at the time. But in their own family, they could be the top of the top, the heads of everything.

"How does prison fit in then?"

"It showed me what's important. When I was alone in my cell, I wasn't thinking about making street deals. I was thinking about revenge, but also about building my family and making it stronger. I was thinking about a real future, not some bullshit struggle, not some little street crew, but a future and a legacy." He looks down at me and tilts my chin up toward him. "That's where you come in."

"A future?" I ask, my heart suddenly racing. "And a legacy?"

"It's okay if that freaks you out. I'm just not going to pretend like I'm not seeing you as my future, that's all. I'm in this, baby, and like I said before, you're all mine. But what I haven't said is once I take you, I'll never let you go."

I shiver and shuffle up to kiss him. "Good. I don't want you to."

His arms hug me tight and I give myself over to him until we're kissing, seriously and deeply, and I have a feeling we're not getting out of this bed anytime soon.

Late afternoon sunlight streams through the trees that line the oasis. It's quiet out and even the city feels hushed. I walk with Angelo, hand in hand, toward a house across the street from his.

"This is one of the houses that got rebuilt after the attack," he says, which explains why it looks brand new. "I only got to see the aftermath, but we've been fixing the damage from that day for a long time now."

"What's this one being used for?"

"Nothing." He pushes open the door. "Honestly, it's not even furnished."

He's right. Inside, it's a blank slate. The floors are all hard wood and the style is modern minimalist. The kitchen has granite counters and gourmet appliances, and the back yard has a gorgeous little sitting area with a fire pit and a decorative pond. I can picture sitting back here and watching the water burble down the small waterfall.

"Lots of potential," I say back inside. I lean up against the island and start picturing where I'd put the couches, the lamps, the end tables, what I'd hang on the walls, put on shelves, everything.

"I'm happy you say that, because I want to make you an offer." He leans next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "What if you lived here? And what if, after all this is over, Serena came to stay here, too?"

I pull back and stare at him. I'm not even sure what to say—the idea of living with Serena is incredibly tempting.

But it doesn't feel right.

A few weeks ago, I would've jumped at this chance. Heck, I would've begged to be able to stay in a nice house with my sister where I could keep a close eye on her and help her stay sober. Except now the opportunity is in front of me and I don't feel that excitement.

"I'm really, really grateful," I say and he tilts his head, looking more curious than upset. "But, I mean?—"

"What's wrong? Do you hate the house?"

I shake my head and walk away from him. My footsteps echo in the empty room, and when I turn back, he's right where I left him. But he doesn't seem angry.

"The house is gorgeous. Honestly, I love it."

"I'd pay for the furniture. Hell, I'd pay for whatever you need. You wouldn't have to worry about that."

I blink back tears and shake my head. "That's not the problem."

"It wouldn't have to be permanent. The two of you could move out after Serena's back on her feet if that's what you wanted."

"No, Angelo?—"

"And there are other houses. Most of them have furniture, but they can be changed if you prefer it some other way. There are options."

"Angelo, listen. I don't want to live with Serena. I want to live with you ."

That takes him by surprise, although I don't know why it would.

"Are you sure?" he asks softly.

"Things are good between us. I mean, they're really good, and I don't want to stop what we've been doing. I know, I know, that makes me a shitty sister, and I hate myself for it?—"

"Don't do that," he says, voice firm. "Don't beat yourself up just because you want to have a life."

I spread my hands in surrender. "I know, you're right, and here I am admitting it. I want to live with you. Serena can stay here, that'd be amazing and so generous, but I want to live with you."

He comes to me then. I take a step back, but he wraps his arms around me and pulls me in close, and he buries my mouth with his. I sink into that kiss, not sure what it means and not caring, because it feels so good to have him tasting me like this, drinking me in, feasting on me. I've been vulnerable with him already today—what's one more time?—and he rewards me with a low, hungry groan.

"I want that too, but I didn't want to push," he whispers. "I wanted to give you an option. One more chance to have your own space. Because soon I won't feel generous anymore and I won't let you out of my sight."

"That's what I want." I kiss him. "I don't need space anymore."

Another kiss. This one's deeper and slower, and soon he's pushing me against the wall and taking off my clothes, and I sleep with him in the middle of the echoing room, not caring if anyone can hear, not caring about anything in the world but him.