Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

Saverio

T he sun peeks through the gap in the curtains. It’s Saturday. Bird song sounds outside. I should’ve gotten out of bed and gone for my run and morning workout hours ago, but Anya lies cozily against me, the curve of her back fitting against my stomach and chest, and I loathe to disturb her.

I sweep a hand over her stomach and cup the little bump that’s steadily growing day after day. She’s perfect from her head to her toes, but this is still my favorite part of her. I can never grow tired of watching her body change. She looks so fucking beautiful I wish I could give her six more kids and keep her pregnant forever. But that’s just my fanciful thinking going off the rails again.

Because things are what they are.

Even if I had a choice, I’d never put her through the pain and possible complications of giving birth again .

This is the first and the last baby she’s having.

I intend on making the most of every moment. I want to burn each second into my brain. If I could, I’d stay in bed with her all day, but there’s much to be done—doctor’s visits, prenatal classes, baby shopping, and Livy sent me a text message to ask who’s organizing Anya’s baby shower. I told her to go ahead and knock herself out. Anya’s mother sure as hell isn’t going to lift a finger. And all of those items on my checklist are just the tip of the iceberg.

Anya needs to get her driver’s license before she’s seven months pregnant. The baby can come early. I want it to be done before. She needs her own piece. I already ordered the handgun from my supplier. When it arrives, she has to practice target shooting to familiarize herself with the new weapon. She’ll be busy enough being a mother once the baby is there.

The object of my thoughts stirs.

I push up on one elbow to look at her. I love how relaxed and innocent she looks before reality and weariness set in to eradicate the softness of her sleepy expression.

Her long, golden lashes lift.

Nuzzling her neck, I inhale the sweet summer scent of her skin and hair. “How did you sleep?”

I’m worried that she’s not getting enough quality rest. I make sure she’s in bed for at least eight hours per night, but she has dark rings under her eyes. My treasure is tired.

It’s not just the toll the pregnancy is taking on her body. She’s been quiet and secretive since the wedding. I know her well enough by now to know she’s keeping something from me. Not surprising, seeing what the nature of our relationship is. All the same, I want her and the baby to be healthy.

“I was thinking of inviting Livy for dinner,” I say on the spur of the moment. Maybe it will cheer her up .

She turns onto her back, staring at the ceiling.

I study her face. “Would you like that?”

“You know why I don’t want to bring Livy here.”

“We can go to a restaurant.”

She searches my eyes for a moment before saying, “Okay.”

I want her. Badly. However, she’s exhausted, and I’ve played my part in it by wearing her out with sex. The more I have her, the more I want her. It’s never enough. I still find it miraculous. I’ve never been this desperate for anyone every minute of the day without fail.

I will my hardening cock down, ignoring the hot wave of need to taste her that builds inside me.

Instead, I kiss her forehead. “What would you like to do today? We can stay at home and watch a movie.”

Her lush lips curve with a tentative smile. “I have to meet Tersia in town. We’re going baby shopping.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Spending time with Tersia is always fun.” She reaches out as if to touch me, but pulls back her hand. “When she has an exhibition again, we should go. I’d like to see her work.”

“Just give me the date, and I’ll put it in my agenda.”

“Thanks,” she says, sitting up. “It will be good for our public image.”

I swear I heard a bite in her tone. “Is she still pushing for the four of us to have dinner?”

“Very much. I’m running out of excuses.”

“Sorry, treasure. Richard isn’t my type.”

“I know.”

She makes to get out of bed but stills halfway into the act.

“Is everything all right?” I ask, jackknifing into an upright position next to her .

Her face lights up with wonder. She cups a hand over her stomach and says in a breathless voice, “I just felt her move.”

“The baby?”

A laugh bubbles from her lips. “Oh my God. There she is again.”

I look at her stomach, unable to process that the little being inside there is doing acrobatics. “What does it feel like?”

“Butterfly wings.” She giggles. “Ticklish.”

“May I?” I ask, my hand shaking slightly when I raise it.

She’s mine in every way. I claimed her body, and I intend on claiming a lot still, but for some reason, touching her like this feels more invasive than fucking her to heaven and back.

She removes her hand and gives a shy nod.

My chest swells with a foreign sentiment as I lay a hand over the life growing inside her. I wait, counting to ten and back, but there’s nothing.

“Do you feel it?” she asks.

My disappointment is palpable. “No.”

“It’s too early,” she says with an easy smile. “You’ll probably feel it closer to five or six months.”

I can’t tear my gaze away from her stomach. “What do you think he’s doing?”

She grins. “Turning maybe or kicking.”

I’m reluctant to move my hand, but when she swings her legs over the bed, I don’t have a choice but to get out of her way.

“Have you chosen a name yet?” I ask.

She glances over her shoulder at me. “No.”

“Matthew isn’t bad for a boy.”

“Who says it’s going to be a boy? ”

“Claire is pretty for a girl.”

She gives me an odd look before standing.

“Let me know when you’ve decided,” I say. “I’d like to get one of those gold baby medals engraved.”

She remains glued to the spot for a couple of beats before walking to the bathroom.

I’ve never explicitly told her about my intention of keeping her. I let her come to her own assumption as she closes the door and turns the key, literally locking me out.

Yeah, no. That doesn’t work for me.

I’m out of the bed and in front of the door before I’ve blinked, slamming a shoulder against the wood. Pain lances into my arm, but my brain merely categorizes the discomfort. I barely feel it. Another shove, and the wood splinters around the lock.

Anya utters a yelp where she stands at the basin with a toothbrush in her hand as the door swings inward.

I don’t know how I get in front of her. The one moment I’m standing on the threshold, and the next, I’m crushing her in my arms.

“What’s wrong, tesoro ?” I brush the vibrant red hair from her face, the act gentle in comparison to the violence I just committed to remove the obstacle between us. “Talk to me, Anya.”

“Nothing,” she says, her pretty eyes round.

Her heart beats wildly against my chest. She’s lying. I recognize the fear in her eyes.

Splaying a hand over her face, I push back her head. The pressure of my fingers on her cheeks pouts her lips. I swoop down and claim them, tasting the minty toothpaste and the lies on her tongue.

“Tell me,” I say into the kiss.

She tries to shake her head in my grasp .

When I loosen my hold to let her speak, she says, “Nothing.”

I cock my head, cracking my neck. “Try again.”

She drops the toothbrush and grips the counter behind her. “Sav, please.”

I draw my hand down to the column of her neck, keeping her close with a possessive hold. “I can’t fix your problems if you don’t tell me what they are.”

“Why do you want to fix my problems?” she asks, her voice hoarse.

“Because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Is it?” she throws back at me. “Why?”

“Because I own you,” I say, making sure she gets the message. “Because if anyone touches you, they touch me.” I lean closer, no longer able to contain the hardness that presses against her stomach, the need that compels me to claim her and mark her until she’s no longer uncertain about how long I’m keeping her for. “You know what I do with people who wrong me. I cut them down. You’ve seen it firsthand. Do you know what I do with people who dare to look the wrong way at what’s mine? I slay them, tesoro . I flatten them to the ground. I’ll burn the whole world down for you, but you’ll stand at my side while I do it. You’re a goddamn goddess, not a coward. You don’t get to hide.”

She trembles against me, but she holds my gaze bravely. “Does that extend to your ex-wife?”

“Yes, Rachele too. I already took care of that at the wedding.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I can fight my own battles?”

I brush a thumb over the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her neck. “I know you can. I’m going to destroy anyone who makes you unhappy anyway, and we’re not leaving this room before you tell me who I’m going to kill. ”

“No one,” she whispers, her eyes growing larger. “No one made me unhappy.”

I come closer, kissing her again, licking the seam of her lips. “Do you think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been since the wedding?”

“I’ve had things on my mind.”

“Clearly.” I tighten my fingers around her neck. The touch is dominant without cutting off her airflow. “Now’s the time to tell me.”

She takes a shaky breath, her resistance crumbling with the sag of her shoulders. “What happens to my baby if I’m dead, Sav? Have you ever thought about that?” She utters a laugh. “I suppose you don’t have to. It’s not your problem, is it?”

The question is like a sledgehammer to my brain. What the fuck? “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“What if it does? I have to be prepared. It would be stupid and irresponsible not to put measures in place.”

I stare into those lovely, whisky-colored eyes. Fuck. This is what she’s had on her mind? She’s a fierce protector, a lioness when it comes to her baby. It’s only natural that she thinks like that. It’s part of what I love so much about her. But fuck. I don’t want her to be scared for her life. And yet, she’s not wrong to worry. However, as I told her, that’s my job.

I weave my fingers through her hair, cupping her head, telling her gently, emphasizing each word to let my meaning sink in, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Saverio.”

My name on her lips is beseeching, begging me to be honest with her.

“ I’m not going to let anything happen to you .”

“I need to know,” she says, hesitating. “I need to know that my baby will be safe.” A warning slips into her tone. “I’ll do whatever it takes, Saverio. Don’t underestimate me.”

Resting our foreheads together, I say, “I’ll never be that foolish.”

She’s potent poison in a small bottle. I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on her. She singlehandedly took care of her mom. She fucking shot the guy who tried to stab her mother.

The thought of her dead or gone does things to me. It makes me violent. I dare someone to try and take her away. I’ll kill every motherfucker who’ll give it a shot, including Luigi. I’ll fight that war if that’s what it boils down to, but I’ll first diffuse it if I can.

The savage dread that spears through my chest pours into the kiss I press on her lips. My hands are on her everywhere at once, tearing at the buttons of her pajama top. The pants are next, the fabric shredded at my feet before she has time to gasp.

Goddamn. I wasn’t going to do this.

I snap my teeth together, summoning every ounce of willpower I possess to clench my hands at my sides and not reach for her again. “Tell me to stop, tesoro .”

Instead, she pushes my pajama bottoms over my hips. My cock juts out, ready and dripping precum for her.

I lock my fingers on her hips to keep a measure of distance between us while trying to come to my senses, but she leans against me, trapping my hard-on between our naked skin.

She makes an animal of me. I both love and hate it. I revel in the effect while abhorring my lack of control.

I spin her around and push her against the vanity. Our gazes lock in the reflection of the mirror, icy, crazed blue meeting honeyed, melting gold .

“Tell me no,” I bite out, pinning her between the vanity and my body, praying for control even as I feast my eyes on her naked tits and generous curves.

“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice.

I tighten my fingers on her flesh, kneading the softness between my hands with a force that will leave bruises. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

My question is the desperate cry of a man on the brink of losing his mind. His head. His life. All for a woman.

“What do you want to do to me?” she asks in a sultry tone.

I beg for fucking mercy. “Anya, please.”

“Yes,” she says again, rubbing her ass against my groin.

Fuck.

And I snap.

It only takes a second to get rid of my pajama bottoms. I step back and bring her with me. In the same movement, I push her lower body down and kick her feet apart.

My answer is the lustful call of an animal who wants to bite into her shoulder and rut her until she collapses beneath my weight. “I want your ass.”

“Then take it,” she says with a daring look over her shoulder.

I grind my molars until the crunch echoes in my skull. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know.” Her gaze is level. “I like it when it hurts.”

Jesus.

I’m done for it. Finished. My resistance rips in two, the man I used to be cracking right down the middle. I’ve only ever been myself with her. I’ve never dared to show my depravity to another soul. It binds me to her, and while it’s wrong, it feels so fucking right.

My body shakes as I grab the first thing my hand falls on—a bottle of oil for preventing stretch marks. I squirt a generous amount on my palm and rub it over my cock. She watches in the mirror, licking her lips as if she wants my length down her throat and not in her ass.

“I’ll go slow,” I say, the promise more aimed at myself than at her.

I haven’t prepared her, haven’t stretched her, but when I tease her dark hole with my thumb, she reaches behind her, fists my cock, and pushes the head against her asshole.

“You don’t have to go slow,” she says. “I can take it.”

“Fuck, Anya.”

“Have you done this before?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know what to do.” Pushing back, she says, “Take me. Do it now.”

Another sliver of control peels away as I punch my hips forward, breaching the tight ring of muscles with the crest of my cock.

A gasp tears from her throat.

I rub a palm over her back in a soothing caress. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Move,” she says, dragging in small pants of air. “Do it now, Sav.”

I inch forward slowly, taking her inch by inch. By the time her ass has swallowed my cock up to the balls, her arms where she’s bracing her palms on the counter are shaking.

Holding on to one hip, I slip the other hand between her legs and rub her clit. She cries out, her muscles softening a little around me.

“Move,” she says again, grinding against me.

“Does it hurt?”

A bead of sweat runs down her temple and plops on the marble. “Fuck, yes. Make me come.”

I take mercy on her, fucking her with a few quick thrusts to find my release quickly. When I empty myself in her ass, she comes with me, her inner muscles clenching so hard around my cock its painful. I’ve never come faster or harder in my life. Release has never left me legless and incapable of forming sentences.

I don’t stay longer inside her than necessary. I pull out but keep my hand between her thighs, making her ride out the aftershocks until I have to wrap an arm around her waist to prevent her from falling.

I press my forehead between her shoulder blades, catching my breath and finding much-needed composure before I kiss the top of her spine.

My apology is honest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she says, my brazen girl like a burning flame that’s already branded me and left its mark deep under my skin.

I step back and look down. My release runs down the crack of her ass and the back of her thighs.

Shower.

I’m only capable of following the clipped commands that my brain sends to my body. It’s purely instinct, routine the only thing that keeps me going.

I turn her around and lift her into my arms. In the shower, I wash her gently, worshipping every inch of her perfect body with kisses and soft petting.

When she’s clean and dry, I carry her back to bed, lie down, and pull her into my arms.

Kissing the top of her head, I drag her closer. “I didn’t mean to take it so far.”

“I’m glad you did,” she says, burrowing against me as if she’s making a nest for herself. “I wanted to try it.”

My question is hesitant. “Will you do it again?”

“Not immediately,” she says with a smile in her voice. “But ask me again in a couple of days. ”

“Fuck, Anya.” I forget all about my vow not to swear in front of the baby. “You’ll be the death of me.” In more than one way.

“I prefer you stay alive,” she says so softly I’m not sure I heard right.

“What are you doing to me?” I ask again, confusion and fear like I’ve never felt snaking around my heart and squeezing until I’m short of breath.

“Just stay alive,” she says. “Promise me.”

“Shh.” I tighten my arms around her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

She turns in my embrace and puts her head on my pillow, watching me with those intoxicating eyes. “What about you, Sav? Who’s keeping you safe?”