Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Tugging my cardigan tighter around my shoulders, I walk toward the stairs so I can head up to my bedroom. When I come around a corner, I slam into a solid wall of muscle.
Damiano’s hands fly to my shoulders to keep me from staggering backward, and the next second, I’m squashed to his chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah. Sorry, I was deep in thought.” I glance up and smile at him. “You’re home.”
“I’m home,” he murmurs.
Taking my hand, he leads me to our room, and after shutting the door behind us, I’m pulled back into his arms. He rests his hand behind my head and practically curls his body around mine.
“I missed you,” I sigh against his shirt that smells like blood and sweat. “But you need to shower. You smell like death.”
Damiano lets out a chuckle, the sound still foreign to hear because he doesn’t do it often.
Pulling away from me, he walks to the bathroom and while my man showers, I carefully strip out of my clothes.
The burns on my back are starting to feel better, but the nurse said it might take a week or two before they fade away.
I’m surprised that the stab wound gives me the least pain. It feels more like a slight discomfort when I move too quickly, but other than that, I forget it’s there.
Once I’m naked, I tug the covers back and crawl onto the bed.
I lie down on my left side and snuggle into a pillow while I listen to the water running in the shower.
Things feel a bit up in the air because I have to get used to the Manhattan house. I miss the lake mansion, and Aunt Greta, and Martha, and Gerardo.
A heavy sigh drifts from my chest.
I hear the water turn off, and after Damiano’s finished, he comes out and switches the light off.
He’s also naked as he climbs beneath the covers. Turning on his side, he stares at me for a moment before I pull him into my arms.
He presses his face into the crook of my neck, and when my fingers start to brush up and down his back, his body shudders.
I kiss his hair and hold my man while he decompresses.
Drinking in the feel of his warm skin and hard muscles beneath my fingertips, I once again think about how grateful I am that he got to me in time.
Lifting his head, his eyes meet mine. “Stefano’s dead.”
I bring my hand to his jaw, and as he presses a kiss to my palm, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“I also had my men bring your family to New York.”
I’m totally caught by surprise, and a dark frown forms on my forehead.
“Why? I don’t want them here.”
He shakes his head, then says, “I killed them.”
Oh.
For a moment, I blink at my husband, then his words sink in.
Holy crap.
“They’re dead?” I ask to make sure.
“Yes.”
Damiano has killed everyone who’s ever hurt me.
I lean forward and press my mouth to his. “Thank you,” I whisper against his lips.
He kisses me tenderly before pulling a little back. “It’s my Christmas gift to you.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “Only you would think killing people counts as a Christmas gift.” Staring at Damiano with all the love I feel for him, I add, “I love it, though. It makes me feel better they’re gone and can never hurt me again.”
Damiano turns onto his back and pulls me on top of him. “I liked how we slept in the hospital.”
“Yeah?” I straddle him, and feeling how hard his cock is, I reach down between us and position him at my entrance. When I take his cock all the way, I moan, “You want to sleep buried deep inside me, amore mio?”
“Yes.”
I press my chest to his stomach and rest my cheek over his heart. Feeling his cock stretch me to my limits and knowing we’re as close to each other as we’ll ever be, I whisper, “I like it too.”
Damiano’s hand finds my hair, and he pulls his fingers through the strands. “Ti amo.”
I press a kiss to his pec. “Ti amo, marito mio.”
When I wake up, lying on top of Damiano with his cock still buried inside me, the corner of my mouth lifts.
I love waking up like this so much.
He’s still fast asleep, and I can’t resist pressing a kiss to his skin.
Pushing myself into a sitting position, his morning hard-on pushes deeper into me, and I let out a moan.
Oh yes.
My eyes drift over every sculptured muscle in his chest and abdomen while my fingers trace the curve of the lines carved into his sides.
Dio. My husband is pure perfection.
My core clenches with need, and as my gaze flits between his face and his body, I slowly begin to move.
Having Damiano asleep beneath me as I start to fuck him is one hell of a turn-on.