Chapter 58

58

Olivia

"I'm coming. Oh god, Massimo."

"Via," he growls. His shoulders roll forward. His chest heaves. He throws back his head, his gaze not leaving mine. His body grows rigid, every muscle coiled, the planes of his chest stretch the shirt he wears, and then, with a groan, he comes.

So do I. My entire body snaps back as the climax crashes over me. Moisture fills the space between my legs as sensations coalesce, collide, zing up my spine and explode. I see sparks of darkness and of light that dot my vision. Still, I don't close my eyes. I collapse, panting, holding his gaze as spurts of white stream from his cock and all over his shirt and his hands. And still, he continues to milk himself. It's the hottest thing I have ever seen—this man, falling apart, without breaking our connection.

The gray in his eyes bleeds out, leaving a clear, mirrored surface that reflects everything I'm feeling—love, lust, hope, want, need… I need him. I have to have him. Be with him. Within me. Inside me. In my heart. My soul. In my thoughts. I yearn for him. Can't live without him.

He cuts the call and I sink back into the sheets. My fingers tremble. I switch off the vibration, then drop it to the bed. My breath comes in puffs. My vision wavers as I float down from the aftermath of the climax. Every pore in my body seems to have opened. Exhaustion laces my limbs, even as adrenaline laces my blood.

This. This is what I've been missing my whole life. A calm at the end of the storm. The treasure at the end of the rainbow. The applause that greets me when I kill a performance. When I stand there on the stage, sweaty and breathless, with the spotlight in my eyes, blinding me so I can't see the audience, but sense them, their excitement, their euphoria, their adrenaline pumping as they jump to their feet and scream in delight. This...is how I felt right now, as I watched him come apart. As he revealed that vulnerable part of himself that I've always known he has at his core. This… oneness with him… I have never felt with anyone else. Will never feel with anyone else again. Only with him. Him. And it's all for me. Mine. For he belongs to me, the way an audience never can. They'll applaud me, and love me, and worship me when I have a big hit at the box office, and then they'll go home to their families. And me? I'll have him. As he has me.

We belong together in a way nothing else—not fame, not the satisfaction of a career—can replace. Not that this can replace that. I need that, too. But I need him as much. No, more. Penny was right. I need them both to balance me. Forcing myself to choose one over the other would mean I could never be complete.

Then I reach out my hand, toward the mirror. "I need you, Massimo."

"I'm here."

"Eh?" I jerk my head in the direction of the voice to find him framed in the doorway.

"What the—?" I gape. "How did you?" Understanding dawns. "You were never far away, were you? You have a flat in this building. Maybe on this very floor."

"Next door, actually." He prowls toward me. I rake my gaze down his broad shoulders that stretch the T-shirt he's wearing.

He's wearing a T-shirt?

And jeans?

I've never seen Massimo in such a casual getup before. With every step he takes, his jeans mold to his powerful thighs and pull tight across his crotch. His crotch, which is tented, with the bulge of his cock clearly outlined against the fabric. And he came just a few minutes ago. I know, because I saw it on the screen of my phone. Yet here he is, in real life, and completely aroused all over again. Is that even possible? Do men revive that quickly? Apparently, Massimo does. He halts next to the bed. I tilt my head all the way back to meet his gaze, those almost colorless eyes that eat me up with their intensity.

"You couldn't give me this one thing? You couldn't give me space?"

"I did."

"You were in a flat right next door to mine!" I set my jaw. "How is that giving me space?"

"I didn't see you. More importantly, you didn't see me. I didn't put myself in your path." He widens his stance. "Surely, that was enough to allow you to think things through without interference?"

I hesitate, then bite the inside of my cheek. "You had cameras on me in this flat, and I bet you had someone following me around."

"I did," he admits. "But I didn't call you, did I?"

"Big deal. You had access to everything I did. My movements, who I spoke to—" I start. "Did you bug my phone?"

He has the grace to look sheepish.

"You did bug my phone." I stare at him. Seriously, I can't even— I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I raise my hands. "I don't know what to say."

He sits down on the bed next to me. "Don't say anything." He takes my hands in his. "Did you expect me to stay away?"

"Umm, yes?"

He glares at me, and my stomach flip-flops. This… stern, unyielding exterior of his? It's so damn hot. It gets me every time. And he knows it, too. He knows when to play the role of the dominant alphahole to a T. He knows just what it does to me. He runs his thumb across my wrist, and my pulse rate speeds up.

"You're such a liar, Via," he says in that dark, gravelly, thirst-trap voice of his. If I were to record it and sell it, I'd make millions. On the other hand, no way do I want any other woman listening to him. The timbre of his tone alone is enough to bring anyone to orgasm.

"I'm not a liar," I protest, but my voice emerges shaky.

His lips kick up.

"You left, hoping I'd keep tabs on you. That I'd care enough to pursue you, come after you, and convince you that I'm the only one for you."

"Actually, you don't need to do that anymore."

He frowns. "I don't?"

"That last orgasm was explosive enough to clarify my thoughts."

"It was?" he asks slowly.

"Seems the trick was not about putting distance between us, so much as experiencing as many climaxes as possible."

"O-k-a-y," he scans my features. A bemused look on his face.

I grip his hands and rise up on my knees, then swing my leg over to straddle him. His hands instantly come to my hips. I wind my arms about his neck and bring my face close to his.

"I really should be angry with you for stalking me."

"You should," he agrees.

"But I'm not."

He tilts his head. "Oh?" he says, his voice cautious.

How interesting. The moment I go on offense, he gets all confused. Good to know. Something I intend to use in the future. Because we do have a future together, for better or for worse. For richer or poorer. For whether he is in the Mafia or not. As long as he is Massimo… I am his Via.

"Mm… hmm." I rub my nose against his. "I did want some space and time to think, but you were right. Subconsciously, I also wanted you to come after me. And I think, deep inside, I knew you'd never let me just walk away from you. Still, I needed to try."

His lips twist. "And I had to try to let you have your way. I just couldn't stop myself from making sure you were safe."

"By having cameras in my apartment?"

"I'm sorry." He tightens his grip on my hips. "Not sorry," he adds.

I laugh. I can't help it.

His features relax a little. "Maybe I went a bit overboard, but I was taking no chances."

"Is that how it's going to be when we start our married life together? Are you going to stalk me every step of the way."

"Maybe—" He blinks. "Hold on, back up. Did you say married life?"

I nod.

"So, you've forgiven me for everything?" he asks cautiously.

"Not exactly. But I am coming around to the idea that there are some things about you I can't change. Things that aggravate me the most about you are also the very things that attract me to you."

"Don't toy with me, Via." He tightens his grip on my hips. "What are you trying to say?"

"That you have the balls the size of Iceland."

"You mean Texas?"

"When in Europe..." I raise a shoulder.

"Actually, we're in the UK," he points out.

"You know what I mean," I huff. "The point I'm trying to make, is that you're way too confident about yourself. And it's a trait I both loathe and love about you."

"Love, eh?" He hauls me so close that my breasts flatten against his chest.

"Yes, the L-word; that ol' chestnut," I murmur.

"That all you love about me?" His voice is light, but his gaze is intense.

"I also love your gorgeous eyes."

"My eyes?" He blinks.

"They change color with your emotions," I explain.

"My emotions?" He opens his mouth, no doubt, to deny it, but I shake my head.

"No, don't say it. You do have feelings that run quite deep. It's the reason you shot my brother. You were so angry at what he intended to do, and you knew you'd never be able to sway him completely from that route. You wanted to protect me, so you did what you thought was right."

He watches me closely, neither confirming nor denying.

"And I've seen you with your brothers. You'd do anything for your family."

A pulse flares to life at his temple.

"And for me. You'd do anything for me. You'd kill for me again, if necessary."

"In a heartbeat," he says simply.

"It's why you moved to London, even though your life is in Palermo."

"I am where you are. You are my home. When you're happy, I'm happy."

Tears prick the backs of my eyes. Damn. This man, he slays me.

"It's always more than I love you, isn't it?" I smile through the moisture that threatens to spill over. "You'll never be satisfied with the ordinary."

"I'll never be satisfied with anyone but you. If your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches."

" The Princess Bride ," I exclaim. "You quoted from The Princess Bride ?"

He smirks. "Now you have one more thing about me to love."