Page 52 of A Touch of Fate

I shouldn’t have been surprised. “He finds you very attractive. He said you could make him fall for the bad-boy type.”

Samuel touched my shoulder and gently steered me out into the hallway. His brows drew together. “Then he’s not so different from some women who fancy the bad boy in bed because they don’t know the baggage that comes with this life.”

He grabbed my gym bag from the locker room, then opened the front door for me.

“I should change clothes,” I said, confused.

Samuel shook his head. He pushed me down the ramp to his car parked right outside and lifted me out of the wheelchair. “Stay as you are.”

The look in his eyes and the low timbre of his words melted my insides. I blushed when I realized what Samuel had in mind.

“Does my ballet attire turn you on?” I asked with a teasing smile when Samuel didn’t put me down in the seat right away.

He lowered me into the seat but stayed bent over me.

His eyes were practically devouring me whole.

“You always turn me on, but right now, all I can think about is to claim your pussy in that tutu you’re wearing.

” His lips claimed mine for a fierce kiss before he straightened and closed the door.

The taste of whisky lingered on my lips from his kiss.

My belly tightened with apprehension, but I didn’t want to say anything and cause a repeat performance of the fight in the morning.

Samuel started the car the moment he was behind the wheel and raced away.

He took my hand as he drove us home. My body already rang with desire. It was still early, much earlier than Samuel’s usual time to return home from work.

The moment we pulled up in front of the house, Samuel shoved open the door and raced around the hood.

He picked me up and carried me inside, then kicked the front door shut.

Instead of carrying me upstairs, he turned and pressed my back against the door, then kissed me hard.

He ground his cock between my legs, showing me how much I turned him on.

I gasped into his mouth, delirious from his touch and his obvious hunger for me.

He dry humped me as we kissed almost desperately.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer.

Samuel straightened suddenly and stumbled into his office with me in his arms. He set me on his desk, then swiped all the folders and sheets off the surface with one sweeping motion.

I laughed, feeling almost lightheaded with desire.

He pushed me down until I splayed on his desk, my legs spread because he stood between them.

His eyes raked over me. “Fuck.” He knelt and pushed up my skirt, then kissed my pussy through my leotard.

I wasn’t wearing tights, only blush-colored ballet ankle warmers because it was always very warm in the studio.

The leotard was quite tight and not easy to move to the side.

Samuel let out a growl as he tried to push it to the side to eat me.

“I’ll have to pull it down,” I whispered between giggles and moans.

“No time,” he growled and unsheathed a knife from his chest. He cut through the fabric of my leotard and panties.

“Samuel!” I gasped in shock, but his mouth pressed against my pussy, and I lost the ability to speak.

I came not long after but never got time to catch my breath because Samuel ripped down his zipper and pulled out his cock. He gripped my hips and looked at me full of hunger and possessiveness as he pushed into me in one hard thrust.

His eyes fell shut, and I released a long moan at the stretched sensation.

I could feel every nerve ending in my pussy.

Samuel opened his eyes and surprised me when he bent forward and cupped my head, his thumbs stroking along my temple gently.

He slid out of me gradually, only to glide back in even slower.

His eyes locked on mine as he moved unhurriedly, his lips close but not touching mine.

I couldn’t look away. This felt more intimate than ever before, as if Samuel was trying to convey something with his eyes.

I remembered Natalya’s words and wondered if she’d really seen what she described. If Samuel felt more for me than he could admit. “You are amazing,” he rasped as he made love to me.

God, this felt like making love. Was it?

Could this really be love?

Emma searched my eyes, hoping to find proof of deeper feelings in them. Fuck, and I was so tired of hiding my feelings, so fucking tired of keeping her at arms’ length when I wanted her close, closer than I’d ever wanted someone.

I wanted to protect her, but she was already too deeply involved in my problems as it was.

And so for the first time since I’d married Emma, and the first time in a very long time, I lowered my guard and allowed someone to see beyond my cold mask.

I allowed Emma to see what I felt for her.

Emotions I couldn’t put into words yet. Sometimes I wanted to have her as close as possible, and sometimes, particularly when she commented about my drinking, I wanted to push her far away.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her breathing hitched. She opened her mouth to say what I couldn’t say because her eyes had screamed her feelings for me for a while. I kissed her to silence her, then murmured. “No words, Emma. Not now, not yet. Let me be the first to say them. Soon, I’ll be ready.”

She nodded and swallowed hard.

“Until then, let me show you what I feel.”

I made love to Emma until we both found release, then I sat back in my desk chair and pulled her on my lap.

She snuggled against me and touched my heart. “I’m glad you finally trust me enough.”

I brushed her hair away from her face. “It’s not a matter of trusting you. I simply want to protect you from certain aspects of me.”

Emma sat up. “Samuel, I’m not blind. I’m not stupid. I know you’re struggling, and it doesn’t lessen my feelings for you. You’re human. It’s okay not to always be okay.”

I cupped her cheek. “I’ll be Underboss soon.

The men I’ll rule over don’t want their leader to be human, Emma.

They want someone who appears bigger than life, someone who makes them believe he’s worth dying for.

I’m a symbol, and that symbol can’t have cracks.

I’m not the only one with a dark past or problems, but I’ll have to make sure nobody knows. ”

She pursed her lips. “I know your men expect you to be strong, but emotions don’t make you weak. Even Dante showed emotions after his first wife died. He was in mourning.”

“For a short while and it never stopped him from being cruelly effective in his job. I lost friends and a twin. That’s not the same as losing a wife.”

She sighed. “I understand being strong for your men, but I’m your wife. I swore to be by your side in good and in bad times, so let me be there for you.”

I brushed a strand from her sweaty forehead. “It’s my job to protect you.”

Her expression darkened. “Yes, and it’s my job to take care of you. Let me help you. Don’t push me away, don’t keep me out. That hurts me more than your problems ever could.”

I kissed her. “I’ll try. I’m used to keeping people out, so this will be new for me.”

She smiled slightly. “That’s okay. I’ll hold you accountable, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Maybe it would be a good start to talk about your drinking.”

I tensed, my defensive walls jumping into place. “I drink often. You’re right.”

“Every day,” Emma said quietly.

I gritted my teeth. “How would you know?”

“Because I can smell it on you, Samuel. I thought you wanted to confide in me?”

I sighed, not liking feeling cornered like that. I felt the strong desire to lock her out again and raise my protective walls. “I don’t keep track, but you could be right. I have been drinking a bit more than I should in recent months.”

Emma nodded, her eyes soft and understanding.

“Alcohol kept me company and listened when I couldn’t open up to anyone else. Now that I have you to confide in, that won’t be an issue anymore.”

Emma gave me a small, hopeful smile, but I could tell she wasn’t quite convinced. Neither was I, but I had survived torture and several attempts on my life. Alcohol really wasn’t an opponent I was worried about.

“My father asked me about children today,” I said. “After the thing with Serafina, he’s always concerned something could happen to me too. I suppose he needs to make sure our bloodline continues.”

Emma regarded me with wide eyes. “Okay.” She tilted her head curiously. “Your mom got really emotional over photos of you, Serafina, and Sofia as babies. Maybe that’s why he feels like grandchildren would be good, to cheer up your mom, you know?”

I nodded. “She’s made peace with having lost Serafina, but sometimes it catches up with her again. That’s why I knew it was a bad idea to look at those photos. Are you still against kids?”

She frowned. “I was never against having kids, Samuel. I’m just worried. Do you want children now because it’s expected of us?”

I sighed. Of course, it was expected of us. “It’s expected, but that’s not why I want children.”

“Then why do you want them?”

“Family is the only place in our world where you can really be yourself.”

Emma bit her lip, her eyes warm and loving. “I know. With you, I don’t feel different. I just feel like me because you only see me.”

I cupped her cheeks. “I feel the same with you.” I knew I still wasn’t the epitome of emotionally available, but I wanted to let Emma in.

“I want children. I have always dreamed of having my own family one day. For a long time, I didn’t dare dream it could become a reality,” Emma whispered. She searched my eyes. “Do you want them now?”

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure if it was the right time for kids yet, but would there ever be a right time?

Getting Emma pregnant would definitely get some people off our backs, and maybe it would help me focus on the present and not let the past catch up with me so often.

Perhaps it would help get a better handle on my drinking habits too.

Emma was right. They had become a little erratic over time.

“I think you should stop taking the pill, and we should let fate decide if we’re ready for kids.”

Emma blew out a breath, her eyes nervous. “Okay. I only have five more pills, and I won’t start the new prescription after that.”

I wrapped my arms around her tightly, my heart speeding up. I knew this was a monumental step that would change everything, even more than a marriage had.

“Can you try to drink less if we do this? Not during the day and maybe not every day?” Her face filled with anxiety over my reaction, and my first instinct was to get angry because I didn’t want anyone to tell me what to do, but in this case, I understood Emma’s reasoning.

“I’ll drink less, don’t worry.”

Emma was concerned I had lost control over my drinking, but I would show her that I never relinquished control.