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“You shouldn’t have been driving in this! What’s wrong with you? Do you have a death wish?”
“No. I wanted to get back here. To you.”
I gaped at him. I didn’t know what to say.
One large hand reached out to cup the back of my neck and tug me closer. “We were already halfway here when the snow started falling in earnest. I told them to keep going. I didn’t want you alone here in the storm.”
My insides melted into a pile of jelly. This man was so infuriating, but also so sweet. “Vito . . . ” I whispered his name like a long, soft sigh as I kissed his chin. “Mio dolce bello,” I tried, piecing together words I knew.
His fingertips pressed harder into my skin and he gave me a sexy half-grin. “Il mio dolce bell’uomo,” he corrected.
“Il mio dolce bell’uomo,” I repeated clumsily.
My terrible pronunciation didn’t seem to bother him. He twisted us so my back was up against the tile and his shoulders blocked the hot water, then he captured my mouth. I forgot about his injury as I kissed him back, clinging, my head spinning in the warm mist, and an ache settled deep in my belly. His tongue trailed the seam of my lips then pushed inside, flicking, stroking mine, his body looming over me. It was crazy how easily this man turned me on.
He braced his hands on the wall above me, his lips trailing down my jaw, along my neck. “Were you worried about me?” he rasped before sinking his teeth into my skin.
“No,” I lied, then reached down to caress his semi-hard cock.
“Cazzata.” He licked the sensitive spot behind my ear. “Keep tugging my cock. You’re making me feel better.”
Oh, right. His wound. I glanced down to make sure he was okay. Blood slid down his body and gathered with the droplets of water around his groin. He was fully hard now, his erection coated red, as was my hand. “Vito, shit.”
“Are you scared of a little blood, bella?”
“No, of course not.” I’d seen more injuries than I could count over the years at the winery.
“Then don’t stop.” He put his hand on top of mine and we stroked together. “It feels so good.”
Red-tinted water ran over his dick and our hands as he slid through my grip. My clit pulsed. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything so wrong, so deviant—sohot—in my life. He was bleeding all over the both of us. “Where did you go today?”
“To pick up my sister from JFK.”
I paused, this news settling like spoiled wine. Why hadn’t I known this? “You have a sister? And she’s here?”
“Yes and yes.” He rocked his hips once impatiently. “Finish me with hard, short strokes.”
“Maybe I’m not ready to finish you yet.” I reached with my other hand to cup his balls, pulling gently. He grunted in response, eyelashes fluttering as a tremor went through him.
“Diavolina,” he growled. “Do as I say.”
I nuzzled his jaw with my nose. “Why is your sister here?”
“Because I asked her to come. No more questions, bella.” He began thrusting, his hips snapping, and I watched his cock glide through my grip, every push causing his abs to flex. Lean and strong, this man’s body was a goddamn crime. More blood trickled from his wound as he moved, but I didn’t want to stop. I liked driving him wild, seeing him so frenetic and desperate for my touch.
“Fuck, yes.Squeezeme.”
I tightened my fist and worked the sensitive head. He liked to talk right before I climaxed, pushing me over the edge, so I decided to return the favor. I told him exactly what I was thinking. “You’re so sexy, baby, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I think about your cock all the time, how it’s so thick and stretches my pussy until I feel like I might pass out. How I want to be on my knees for you?—”
“Fuck!” he called out, his palm slapping the tile. Then his shaft swelled and pulsed in my hand, jets of come shootingbetween us, coating my hand and mixing with the blood, and I stared at his handsome face, now slack with pleasure. Emotions rioted through me—giddiness and exhilaration, longing and obsession. Too many to name, but they combined somewhere near my heart, cracking it open and flooding the organ I’d spent so long trying to protect. This sure didn’t feel likejust sexand I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from this man.
Sono fottuto.
Whatever I was feeling, I couldn’t ever let him know. I’d keep these unwanted feelings to myself. I wouldn’t cling, I wouldn’t beg. He’d return to Toronto and I would get on with my life. It would be hard, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t experienced loss before. Losing Vito was nothing compared to losing both your parents in one tragic afternoon.
Eventually I would be fine.
When his spasms eased, he began kissing me softly. “I would’ve driven through a goddamn hurricane for this,” he whispered. “All I was thinking about was coming back to you.”