Page 84 of Brutal Heir

I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but let the waves drag me under.

His name tears from my lips, raw and desperate, and I don’t even care. My nails dig into his hair, grounding me as my body shatters around him, every nerve lit up like a live wire.

For a moment, I forget everything, who I am, what I’ve run from, the darkness that’s always waiting. For a moment, there’s just this. Just him. Just us.

And God help me, I don’t ever want it to end.

With my entire body still vibrating with pleasure, Alessandro climbs up my torso, curling into my side. A satisfied expression softens the typically hard lines of his jaw.

He’s happy.

The realization tightens my chest.

Am I the first woman he’s been with since the explosion? It’s likely, given how sensitive he is about his scars.

He curls in closer, a yawn splitting his lips. His cock is heavy against my leg, and just the sight of it has another wave of desire igniting. Then guilt. He’s left me quite satisfied, and here he is with a raging hard-on.

I reach for his cock, but he stops me, his hand encircling my wrist. “No.”

“What? Why not?”

Those eyes meet mine and again, the surge of emotion beneath the surface is like a wild, raging tempest. “Just no.”

“Okay,” I murmur, only slightly hurt by the rejection. He had his hands all over me a second ago, and I’m not allowed to touch him? That’s hardly fair. But there’s something in his expression that halts my objections.

We remain like that in a comfortable silence, my body still humming from the aftershocks of the orgasm. He’s already drifting off, breath evening out. But I’m wide awake.

Not from fear.

From the dangerous truth pulsing under my skin. I’m falling for him. And if I’m not careful, I won’t survive it.

CHAPTER 33

TELL ME TO STOP

Alessandro

The chaos of the city blurs beyond the sound-proof windows of the Range Rover as we zip down the dimly lit highway with the brackish waters of the Hudson River to our side. I try to catch Rory’s gaze, but she’s been staring out the tinted glass toward the twinkling lights of the New Jersey shore since we got into the car. She’s been quieter lately, less fire in her insults and less fun in our banter.

Ever since the night she gave into this forbidden fire between us, when I feasted on her pussy and ruined myself for anyone else.Dio, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. An entire week and I still can’t get it out of my mind.

Those tempting sounds.

The rush of crimson on her cheeks, the curve of her lips as she came.

Merda, it was everything.

I felt whole again. A real man. Not the twisted, destroyed version of one.

But every time I’ve tried to bring it up, she laughs it off, chocking it up to my state of intoxication. Sure, I was drunk, but I remember every tiny detail of the encounter.

And if I wasn’t such a coward, I would tell her how fucking much it meant to me.

But what if she doesn’t feel the same?

What we have is good, incredible even. And I’m scared shitless to fuck it up.

“You feeling okay, Rossi? You’re looking a little pale.” Her concerned gaze pivots in my direction.