Chapter 8

Rocco hovers over me and reaches into what looks like an antique vase on his side table. He pulls out a condom and rips open the foil packet.

This man has a fucking vase of condoms by his bedside? I'm in way over my head if this is the level of playboy I'm dealing with here.

He slides on the condom as if it's something he does every day. I bite my lip nervously as I look at the girth of his erection. The math doesn't math.

He leans down and runs his nose alongside mine. "It'll fit, tesoruccia," he whispers.

"Is that your professional opinion?" I ask as I stare down at where he hovers over my entrance.

He places a finger under my chin and my gaze meets his. "Relax, baby," he coos as he runs the tip of his cock up and down my slick folds until he's gliding back and forth. His lips trail kisses down my neck and his right hand massages my breast.

In about a minute, I've forgotten about my concern, and after two minutes, I'm not totally certain of my name.

"I need more," I pant as I feel desperation overtaking me.

"Are you begging for my cock, sweet girl? Do you want me to slide into this wet, tight cunt?" he whispers. Damn, his dirty talk is making me lose my mind. I never thought I liked dirty talk, but I was fucking wrong.

"Yes!" I yell.

I can feel his smirk against my jaw as he slowly lines the tip of his cock up against my entrance and then sinks inside, one inch at a time. When he reaches a point where I can't stretch, he pulls out a little and pushes back inside. He's not as forceful as I expected him to be. It surprises me. Everything about this man surprises me.

"Fuck, you feel good, tesoruccia," he whispers as he begins to move faster.

Oh God, that burns. But then he lifts my legs and places my feet on his shoulders, and the angle changes everything. He's deeper but he's hitting me in a spot no man has ever touched. I feel my orgasm building.

"Don't stop, please. Right there!" I cry out as I grip his shoulders.

He moves faster, a punishing pace that will definitely leave me sore tomorrow, but I don't care. I need more of this.

He grinds his pelvis against my clit as he thrusts rapidly in and out of me and I fall over that edge into complete bliss as I cry out his name. I sink into the mattress, but he doesn't slow down. Instead, he reaches between us, flicking my clit with his forefinger. It's too much. I'm too sensitive. I squirm beneath him.

"Come for me again, baby," he urges.

"I can't," I whisper as I feel myself tense a little. I've never been a woman who could do that.

He leans his forehead against mine and kisses me gently. "You can and you will, tesoruccia," he says. "Just relax. Let me make you feel good. Close your eyes."

I do as I'm told. He slows and circles my clit with his finger. He takes his time, running his finger town to where we're connected and scooping up more wetness as he continues to make circles around me. Then he pulls all the way out and slams into me and I feel myself building again. I raise my hips to meet him and then we're frantic. Both of us chasing releases.

I begin to tremble, and he moves his finger faster. My body goes rigid as I cry out into the dimly lit room. He follows me with a grunt, slamming into me one last time and holding himself deep inside me.

I breathe in deep, trying to get air. He rolls off me and disposes of the condom in a trash can next to the bed. Then he pulls me against him.

We lie there for a few minutes. Neither of us speaking.

"What does tesoruccia mean?" I ask as I press my hand against his chest and lift my head.

He smiles down at me; his finger tracing lines on my shoulder. "Little treasure," he says.

"Oh," I reply, smiling shyly as I lay my head back on his chest.

"Go to sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow," he says, kissing the top of my head.

"I don't think I could feel any better than I do right now," I say on a yawn.

He chuckles. "Where did you come from?" he asks.

"Twenty-Second Street," I tease.

He pinches my arm and I giggle.

"Goodnight, Lena," he says.

"'Night, Rocco," I reply as I let my eyes close. Just before I fall asleep, I hear him whisper, "I won't let you go now that I've had you."

I'm left to drift into sleep, wondering if he says that to all the women he sleeps with. Why would I be any different?

* * *

I stir awake to the sound of a cell phone vibrating. I'm curled into a ball. Rocco is wrapped around me, his right arm holding me tightly against him as if he's afraid I'll get away.

"Your phone," I mumble as I realize mine is somewhere in his bathroom still nestled in a pocket of my dress. My coat is…did I get my coat? Images of last night flutter to the surface of my brain and I sit up with a start.

"Lie back down. It's early, tesoruccia," he whispers in my ear as he pulls me back against him.

"I should go. I have work," I protest.

His arm doesn't budge.

"Rocco, I have to get to work," I state again as I try to pry his arm from me.

"Not today. You're calling in sick," he says as if it's no big deal.

I turn in his arms. "No, I'm going to my office."

He looks down at me. "Don't fight me on this. You won't win."

I squirm out of his death grip and sit up, scooting away from him. "I am and I will win. I have an important meeting today. I need to go in," I say as I scramble out of bed and start looking for my clothes.

"I had your clothes cleaned," he says and pulls out his phone.

I watch him make a call. "Bring up Lena's clothes." He sets his phone down. He looks pissed.

Shit, did I make a massive mistake?

There's a knock on the door and Rocco gets out of bed, wrapping a sheet around his waist. He opens it and sets my neatly folded dress and underwear on a chair.

"Here you go," he says as he walks into the bathroom.

I dress and then walk toward the bathroom. I stand outside the door watching him in the shower like a total creeper. He's gorgeous. I want to know what each of his scars is from, but I also want to get the hell out of here. I'm completely torn.

"Thanks for everything," I say. I hear the shower shut off as I turn. I walk to his door and suddenly I'm caged in by his body as he places a hand on the door.

"Tesoruccia, I told you, you have to stay here," he says.

I whip around. "I'm not staying there. I barely know you. And last night we were almost killed because, I'm guessing, because of you. Why would I stay here? I'm clearly not safe with you," I yell.

He leans down so our faces are mere inches apart. "I can protect you here, Lena." He motions out a window. "I can't protect you out there. I know we don't know each other well yet. But I'm not letting you go out there." He takes a deep breath.

"Why?" I ask as I place my hands on my hips.

"Because…the unfortunate part of being in my world means sometimes people want to kill me. And now they've seen you with me. You aren't safe out there until I find this person."

I swallow. Shit. This is bad.

He lifts my face with a single finger under my chin. "You'll stay here. You can use my computer if you need to work. I have a spare one you can have."

I sigh and plop down into a chair. "I'll stay…for now," I state, but inside I'm debating if I should try to get out of here or not.

"Good," he says as he walks into his closet. Two minutes later, he's dressed. He opens a desk drawer and sets a brand-new laptop on it. He logs in and turns to me. "It's all yours. I have to attend to some things. I'll be back later. What would you like for breakfast?"

"Just toast and coffee," I mutter as I sit at the desk.

"It'll be brought up shortly." He leans down and kisses the top of my head. "I'm sorry, tesoruccia. I wish things were different. I wish I could be different," he says as he leaves me alone in his room with the laptop. Who am I kidding? I can't possibly work today. Instead of using the laptop for work, I call out sick. I google Antonio's, but no news articles pop up. It's like nothing happened last night.

This is crazy. It's crazy. I can't stay here. I don't care how great the sex was. I don't care how much I enjoyed our two dates…can you even call those dates? I can't believe I'm here.

I walk toward a set of French doors leading to a balcony. I look outside. There's the driveway. And a fucking wall and gate. How am I going to get out of here? I walk out to the balcony. OK, there's this lattice thing I could climb down. I wish I wasn't wearing a dress. This sucks. With one last look, I scale down the side of the wall with lattice and drop to the ground. I watch as the gate suddenly opens, and a car pulls in. I'm hiding by bushes. I glance around, seeing no one, I sprint to the gate and manage to squeeze through it just as it shuts.

"Ha! Can't get out, Rocco? I guess you've underestimated me," I say proudly to myself as I begin to walk down the sidewalk.

"I guess he did. Too bad, you should have listened to him," a voice says from behind me before I'm grabbed. I go to scream but a rag is placed over my mouth and a moment later my vision blurs and everything goes black.