Page 50 of Birthright (Sinners of New Orleans #4)

FORTY-NINE

Sam

T he stone feels cold beneath my fingertips as I trace my mother's name. Giulia Costello. Eighteen years gone, and sometimes the wound feels as fresh as yesterday.

"I miss you," I whisper to the marble slab, my voice barely audible over the distant sounds of mourners gathering for Roman's funeral one row down.

The cemetery stretches around me, a city of the dead with its above-ground tombs gleaming white in the New Orleans sun.

I've funded everything for Roman's service — the best casket, the finest plot, flowers covering every surface.

Money can't bring him back, but it's the only way I know how to shoulder this weight.

Roman died protecting what was mine. What I failed to protect.

My mind flashes to images of Olivia in that shack in the Bayou. So much like my mother all those years ago. The parallels claw at my insides — a small room, the smell of water nearby, the sound of desperate breathing.

But this time, the ending was different.

This time, she survived.

I close my eyes, remembering the moment I burst through that door, expecting to find her broken body. Instead, she stood there, gun in hand, Axel's blood pooling at her feet. She'd saved herself when I couldn't reach her in time.

John's hand lands on my shoulder, breaking me out of my thoughts, a silent question in the gesture.

"I'm good," I tell him, though we both know it's a lie.

We approach the funeral attendees gathered around Roman’s tomb.

Roman’s mother clutching a handkerchief, his younger brother stone-faced with grief. Their eyes meet mine briefly; no accusation there, just shared pain. I've made sure they'll never want for anything again.

"He was a good man," John says beside me.

"The best." My voice cracks.

The minister begins his eulogy, but something, someone, catches my eye. Olivia stands at the back, amongst the mourners. She wears a simple black dress and her hair hangs in long waves. Dark shades cover her blue eyes, and I find myself longing to see them.

Sorrow bubbles in my chest. Not just for Roman, but for what I’ve lost with Olivia.

I've spent my life believing love makes you weak, makes you vulnerable. My mother's death taught me that. But watching Olivia fight, watching her survive what my mother couldn't — maybe I've been wrong all along.

Maybe it's not about keeping her safe by pushing her away. Maybe it's about being strong enough to stand beside her, come what may.

The minister drones on, but I can’t focus. My mind drifts between the eulogy and Olivia, her presence a beacon amidst the sea of anguish.

My gaze slips back to Olivia, watching as she wipes away a tear, and I want nothing more than to reach for her, to tell her everything will be alright.

But I hold back, waiting for the right moment. I need to see her in this space — at this funeral — before making my move.

When the service ends, mourners shuffle forward to pay their respects. As they approach the tomb, Olivia hangs back. Her eyes scan the crowd before settling on me.

I feel exposed under her gaze, like she can see straight through my carefully constructed walls. The moment feels electric; a pulse of unspoken words thrums between us.

Finally, she steps forward, and my heart races as she approaches me with an air of cautious resolve. The crowd thins around us until it’s just us two amidst a chorus of muffled voices.

“Sam.” Her voice breaks through the noise like glass shattering.

“Olivia.” It comes out rougher than intended.

Showered and dressed in a fresh suit, I feel like myself again as I walk into Gino's. I'm just missing one thing…

"I wanted to talk?—"

"You're an idiot," she interrupts, not letting me finish. I can't help but laugh at her directness. She's also not wrong. I've come to realize, I am an idiot.

"I've been hearing that a lot lately."

"Good. Then maybe you'll actually listen."

Her eyes flash with determination, the same fire I saw when she stood over Axel's body. She's a survivor. A fighter. And I pushed her away.

"You're not leaving me because you want to protect me," Olivia says, her voice steady despite the slight tremble in her hands. "You're leaving because you're scared."

The truth of her words hits harder than any bullet. I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.

"Life is scary and impossible, Sam. If we run from everything we fear, we'll never truly live." She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her perfume. "Being together is a risk. We can't predict the future, but avoiding happiness out of fear is silly."

My heart hammers against my ribs. She's right. I've spent my whole life calculating risks, making plans, controlling every variable. But with Olivia, I've never been in control.

"I love you," she says, her voice breaking slightly on the words.

I close the distance between us in two steps, taking her face in my hands. "Stop," I whisper, my thumbs brushing her cheeks. "I love you too."

Relief floods her features, and I press my forehead against hers.

"I'm so sorry for being stupid," I murmur. "I never should have ended things. I thought I was doing what was right and protecting you, but now I see that I was wrong." My voice catches. "I was just so scared because you almost died, and I can't stop thinking about what could have happened."

Olivia's hands come up to cover mine, warm and alive. "But it didn't happen," she says firmly, grabbing my hand and placing it over her chest. I can feel her heart thrumming. "Feel that? I'm right here. I'm alive."

I feel her heartbeat beneath my palm, strong and steady. It grounds me in this moment, in the reality that she's here, alive and fighting for us.

"I've been so lost without you," I admit, my voice rough with emotion. "These past days...I couldn't sleep, couldn't think straight. All I could see was you, bleeding in my arms."

"Then stop seeing what could have happened and see what's happening now."

Her eyes hold mine, those beautiful blue depths that saw through my walls from the beginning. I brush my thumb across her lower lip, feeling her breath catch.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam," she whispers. "Not unless you push me away again."

"Never," I promise, lowering my mouth to hers.

The kiss starts gentle, a reaffirmation, but quickly transforms into something hungrier. My hands slide down her back, pulling her flush against me as she arches into my touch. The taste of her, sweet apples and citrus, floods my senses.

Olivia's fingers tangle in my hair, tugging slightly as she deepens the kiss. A groan escapes me as her body presses against mine, igniting a fire that consumes all rational thought.

I pull back, gripping her hand in mine. “Come on, let me take you home.”

We’ve barely made it through my front door before Olivia’s lips are back on mine.

"I need you," she breathes against my lips, her hands already working at the buttons of my shirt.

I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her to my office.

"I need you more," I murmur against her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my lips.

I capture her mouth again as my hands squeeze her ass. She arches into my touch, a soft sound escaping her that drives me wild.

Lowering her onto the desk, I sweep papers to the floor with one arm. Olivia's eyes widen, darkening with desire as I position her at the edge, her legs dangling.

I push her shirt up to expose her stomach, pressing my lips to her skin, trailing kisses down the soft curve of her belly. "I need to taste you."

Her breath catches as my fingers tug at the elastic of her leggings. She lifts her hips, helping me slide them down her legs along with her underwear. The sight of her spread out on the desk, half-clothed and completely mine, sends a surge of possessive hunger through me.

I drop to my knees before her, hooking her legs over my shoulders. Her skin is impossibly soft against my rough palms as I spread her thighs wider.

"Sam," she breathes, propping herself up on her elbows to watch me.

I hold her gaze as I lower my mouth to her, my first taste making us both groan. Her head falls back, a breathless curse escaping her lips as my tongue explores her. I take my time, savoring her, repeating what makes her thighs tremble against my shoulders.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, guiding me where she needs me most. I follow her lead, circling my tongue just right until her breathing turns ragged.

"Don't stop," she pants, her hips rising to meet my mouth.

I grip her thighs tighter, holding her in place as I increase the pressure. Her body tenses, trembling on the edge. I slide one hand up to pin her hips to the desk as I double my efforts, determined to watch her fall apart.

When she comes, it's with my name on her lips, her body arching beautifully off the desk. I don't let up, working her through each wave until she's shaking and pushing at my shoulders, oversensitive and whimpering.

I press a final kiss to her inner thigh, looking up at her flushed face and dazed eyes. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her hair a wild halo around her head.

Standing slowly, my eyes never leave Olivia's flushed face. She looks utterly wrecked already, sprawled across the desk with her chest heaving and her lips parted. The sight of her like this — wanting me, needing me — makes my control snap.

"I need to be inside you," I growl, unbuckling my belt with urgent fingers.

Olivia pushes herself up on her elbows, eyes darkening as she watches me free myself. "Yes," she breathes, reaching for me.

I position myself between her thighs, running my length through her wetness. The sensation makes us both groan. I capture her mouth in a bruising kiss as I push inside her, swallowing her gasp as I fill her completely.

"Fuck," I mutter against her lips, holding still for a moment to savor the feeling of her around me. "You feel so good, baby."

Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. "Move," she commands, her nails digging into my shoulders.

I obey, withdrawing almost completely before driving back into her. The desk creaks beneath us as I set a relentless pace, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Olivia meets each thrust as her back arches off the desk.

"Sam," she moans, her eyes locked with mine. "Don't stop."

I slide one hand under her, lifting her slightly to change the angle. Her reaction is immediate as a sharp cry escapes her when I hit that spot that makes her walls clench around me.

"Right there," she gasps, her fingers tangling in my hair.

The pressure builds at the base of my spine as I drive into her harder, faster. The sight of her taking me, her body yielding to mine, pushes me toward the edge. But I'm determined to make her come again before I lose control.

I slip my hand between us, my thumb finding her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her reaction is electric, her body tensing, her inner walls gripping me tighter.

"Come for me again," I demand, my voice rough with need. "I want to feel you squeeze my cock."

I continue thrusting into Olivia, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Her eyes lock with mine, hazy with pleasure but so present, so alive. The connection between us transcends the physical — it's raw, real, undeniable.

"I'm close," she gasps, pulling me closer to kiss me.

"Come with me," I urge against her lips, my voice strained as I fight to hold back my own release. I want to feel her fall apart around me one more time.

Her body tightens, trembling on the edge. I slide my hand between us again, circling my thumb against her. The added sensation pushes her over, and she shatters beneath me, crying out my name. The sight of her coming undone and the feeling of her pulsing does me in.

I bury my face in her neck as my own orgasm crashes through me, groaning her name against her skin as I empty myself inside her. For a moment, we stay locked together, breathing heavily, our hearts pounding in sync.

"I love you," I whisper against her neck, the words slipping out naturally now. "I love you so much it terrifies me."

Olivia cradles my face in her hands, guiding me up to look at her. Her eyes shine with tears and something else — something warm and bright that makes my chest ache.

"I love you too," she says, her voice steady and sure.

I pepper her with kisses before resting my forehead on hers. "I promise I'm done running. Whatever comes next, we face it together."

Her smile is radiant, healing something broken inside me. "Together," she agrees, sealing the promise with a kiss.