8. Fiamma

EIGHT

Fiamma

The warmth of the water seeps into my bones, pulling me under its spell as I sink deeper into the tub. The steam rises around me, curling in the air, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I'm starting to feel human again.

Luca prepared everything for me—this bath, the soft towels, even the candles flickering softly around the room. I don't think I've ever imagined there could be a side of him like this. Granted, before he was tasked with watching over me, I only knew who he was from afar. He has always seemed detached, like a good-looking meathead to me.

Through the open door, I can just make out the faint glow of the Christmas tree's lights in the living room, its lights casting a warm, golden hue over the space. The scent of pine lingers in the air, mixing with the subtle spice of the candles he lit for me.

Outside, through the frosted windows, I can see the snow continuing to fall, the dark night blanketed in a soft, white blanket. It's the kind of snowfall that belongs to this time of year—the quiet kind that muffles everything and makes the world seem like a gift personally wrapped by nature.

But the deceivingly innocent image of the snow as a gift doesn't quite reach me. Not yet. My mind is too full of everything that's happened, and my body still aches from the cold, from the aching knives of the ice against my feet. The ache in my muscles is slowly fading in the warmth of the bath, but the chill of the last few days clings to me in ways I'm not sure will ever go away.

Luca has really shown up for me in a way he isn't required to do as simply a bodyguard. He's made sure that I'm safe, warm, and that he understands the narrative before bringing the rest of the family in.

He's the reason I feel okay right now. He's the only person who could make me feel this way. That thought stirs something deep inside me, something I didn't expect to feel. I glance toward the door, half-expecting him to walk in, to check on me like he's already done a dozen times.

My fingers trail through the water, and I let out a long breath, thinking about Elio. I should call him. I should tell him everything. Luca's right. Best to keep this between us for now until we figure out what comes next.

Christmas is thirteen days away, but this year, it feels like the holiday cheer is just beyond my reach. It seems like something is happening to other people while I'm caught up in this madness that I know I brought on myself.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm letting someone else take the reins. Luca's handling everything—plotting how to deal with Marco, making sure I'm safe, nursing me back to health. And I'm letting him. It feels strange, foreign, but it feels right. I trust him. More than I've trusted anyone in a long time.

It seems like forever ago that we had that insane, unplanned fuck on the kitchen table. But in reality, it was only twenty-four hours ago.

I should have known where strip poker might lead, but I figured I would win and he would be the one sitting there naked, feeling ridiculous.

Instead, I was the one with no clothes on. And being there with nothing to shield me from him somehow turned me on.

It was just a fun roll in the hay together, nothing more. But now, after everything I've been through, we've been through, it feels like so much more. It feels more significant than it did at first. And I'm horny even thinking about him inside of me.

The scent of pine lingers in the air, reminding me season, of why we're here. I should be thinking about my family, about being grateful I'm alive to celebrate with them.

But all I can think about is Luca—how close we've gotten, how much I've come to rely on him in such a short time.

The knock on the doorframe is soft, hesitant. My heart skips a beat, and I sit up slowly, the steam swirling around me as I call out, "Come in."

The opening is filled out by his striking, tall frame. His breathtaking handsomeness remains the same, even more so, perhaps. With his light hair tousled, his green eyes sparkle to match the tree just behind him .

His face is serious, concerned, but there's something else there too, something unspoken. He clears his throat and steps into the room, placing a glass of water on the edge of the tub.

"I brought this," he says, his voice low, almost gruff. "You need to stay hydrated."

I nod, taking the glass from him, our fingers brushing briefly. "Thank you."

His head flicks to the side, toward the glowing Christmas tree visible through the doorway. It feels out of place, almost surreal against everything we've been through. But at the same time, it's grounding. A reminder that the holidays are a time of quiet communion, or peace, even, if this brutal world doesn't threaten to steal all of it.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice softer now.

"Better," I admit, setting the glass down. "The bath is helping."

He nods, but I can feel the tension in the air between us, the unspoken heaviness of everything that's happened, mingling with the holiday warmth all around us. It's like we're both standing at the edge of something, not quite ready to step off, but knowing we can't stay here forever.

"I'll let you finish up," he says, stepping back toward the door, but there's a hesitation in his movements. He doesn't want to leave. I can see it in the way he lingers.

"Luca," I call softly before he can walk out.

He turns to look at me, and for a moment, everything stills. The snow falls gently outside, the Christmas lights twinkle faintly in the distance, and the room feels warmer than it did a second ago.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the crackling fire in the next room. "For everything."

He holds my gaze for a long moment, then nods, his jaw tight. "You don't have to thank me."

But I do. Because in this moment, with Christmas looming just outside these walls, I realize Luca has become the warmth I didn't know I needed. The safety I didn't expect to find. Like the glow of the tree in the corner, soft and steady, he's the one thing keeping the cold at bay.

I shift slightly in the tub. The warmth is starting to fade as the water cools. The muscles in my legs ache, the kind of deep soreness that won't leave easily. I know I should get out, but the thought of moving feels like too much.

"Why don't you stop standing there doing nothing and help me out, already?" I'm joking with him, but mean, I really might need a little extra help.

He's still near the door, watching me with those light, steady eyes and cracks a smile, perhaps happy some of my sassy attitude is back. He steps forward, his expression shifting from concern to something softer. "I'd love to, madame."

"I know I sound like an old lady, but I'm not sure I can get my short ass out of here right now after everything."

"It's a garden tub, Fiamma, not a pool. But, I got you."

I laugh softly, more at the absurdity of the situation than anything. "Well, thank goodness you're here. I might be stuck here for hours. "

He moves closer, his strong hands reaching out to help me. "Alright, let's take this slow."

I grip his hands as he pulls me gently from the water, handing me a towel as I stand. As I wrap the towel around me, my foot slips on the slick porcelain, and for a moment, I lose my balance. I gasp, reaching for something to steady myself, but Luca's already there, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me against him. The water sloshes against the sides of the tub, but I barely notice it.

For a moment, we both freeze, and then we laugh—soft, breathless laughter that fills the small space between us.

"Guess I'm not as graceful as I thought," I mutter, but I don't move. His arms are strong, steady, holding me in place, and I feel… safe. Not just from the physical slip, but from everything.

"Not to worry. I've got you," he murmurs, his voice low, his breath warm against my ear. His hands tighten slightly around my waist, keeping me from slipping again.

And then, suddenly, it's not just about getting out of the tub anymore. The air between us shifts, the laughter fading into something deeper. I step out, my bare feet touching the cool floor, but his arms don't leave me. They stay there, holding me close, keeping me steady.

I don't pull away.

Instead, I lean into him, my body falling into the curve of his chest, feeling the solid strength of him against me. His warmth seeps through the towel wrapped around me and my heart beats a little faster as the moment takes on a life of its own. It's not supposed to be like this, not right now, but it is .

I tilt my head up, marveling at his strong jawline and perfect, olive skin. There is something there that draws me in. His gaze is intense, but not in the way that makes me want to run. It's the intensity that makes me want to stay right here, wrapped up with him.

He says nothing. He just looks at me, his fingers brushing lightly against the small of my back, his touch gentle, but enough to send a shiver up my spine. I lean in closer, my chest pressing against his, and the air between us becomes electric, heavy with unspoken words.

My breath catches as I stare into his beautiful greens, and before I can stop myself, I rise up on my toes, my lips brushing against his in a kiss that feels as inevitable as it is unexpected.

He responds immediately, his hands moving to cup my face, pulling me in deeper, the kiss growing more urgent, more necessary. I melt into him, my fingers gripping his arms, holding on like he's the only thing keeping me grounded. I'm pretty sure he is.

His lips on mine feel like a promise, a vow that whatever happens next, we'll face it together. The kiss deepens, his tongue slipping past my lips with a hunger that takes my breath away. I cling to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, like I can't get enough of him, like I'll never get enough.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to scoop me up into his arms, the towel that's wrapped around me falling away as he carries me to the bed. I feel weightless, safe in his powerful embrace, and the cool air against my damp skin does nothing to dampen the heat that's building inside me .

The sheets are cool against my back as he lays me down, his body following mine, his lips never leaving my skin. He kisses his way down my body, starting at my belly button, his tongue tracing a path that sends shivers up my spine. His hands follow suit, fingers dancing over my skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

I moan as he reaches my inner thighs, his breath hot against my most sensitive area. His tongue flicks out, teasing me, tasting me, and I can't help but arch my back, my body begging for more.

And he gives it to me. His mouth claims me with a hunger that sets my soul on fire. He licks and kisses and sucks, his fingers joining in, sliding inside me with a skill that leaves me breathless. The pleasure builds, each thrust of his fingers, each lap of his tongue pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

When the orgasm hits, it's like nothing I've ever felt before. It crashes over me, wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss, and I cry out, my fingers gripping the sheets, my body writhing beneath him.

"Luca! Oh, my GOD! Fuck, yes!"

But he doesn't stop there. He moves over me, his body aligning with mine, and with one swift motion, he's rams himself inside me, filling me, stretching me in the most delicious way. He is rough but somehow it feels sensual.

He starts to move, his thrusts wild and deep, and I match him, my hips rising to meet his, our bodies moving in perfect sync.

"You feel so fucking good," he growls in my ear, his voice thick with desire as he continues to pound into me. He grips onto my waist just above my hips and pulls me in to him further.

"Don't stop," I whisper back, my nails raking down his back, my legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him in deeper. "Harder, Luca. I want to feel you for days."

He obeys my command, his thrusts growing more frenzied, more desperate, our bodies slapping together, echoing around us, mixing with our moans and gasps.

My second orgasm builds quickly, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep me away. "I'm close, Luca, so close," I pant, my body tensing, ready to explode. "Don't stop! Don't ever stop!"

"Come for me, Fiamma. Let me feel you come undone," he says, his voice barely more than a guttural growl.

And then it hits, even more intense than the first. My body convulses around him, my inner walls clamping down on his cock as he continues to sink himself inside of me, drawing out my pleasure until he finally lets go. His orgasm rips through him as he buries himself deep inside me, his hot release filling me, marking me, claiming me as his.

We lay there, our bodies slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in our chests, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air around us. I can feel him softening inside me, but he doesn't pull out, doesn't roll away.

Instead, he burrows into my neck, his breath warm against my skin. And now I know, without a doubt, that I'm in serious trouble. Luca Rossi is so much more than just my bodyguard. I'm pretty sure that, somewhere along the way in his rough, controlling protection of me, I've fallen for him, too.