Page 150 of Chicago Sin

“This is my place,” Armando murmurs, opening the door to his apartment and flipping on the lights. His cousins, Marco and Leo both have apartments in the same building. I know because we all took the same elevator up.

After Armando called some friends in to clean the glass up at my place, he left someone in charge of staying all night to watch over the place until we can get the windows and door replaced tomorrow.

“It’s nice,” I say. It’s way nicer than mine in terms of size and location although devoid of any personality.

“We could live here, if you want, because it’s bigger. You can do whatever you want with it—make it colorful, like you.”

I peer up at him. “You think I’m colorful?”

He turns to fully face me and wraps both arms around me. “Yeah.” He brushes his lips over my nose. “Beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life.” He glances at my belly, and his lips turn up. “Literally.”

I love seeing the smile on his face. There are signs of fatigue around his eyes, but he looks more relaxed and happy than I’ve ever seen him. He told me on the way home that everything had been solved—there was no longer a hit out on him, and that it had been Emilio who put the contract out and hired the gang to execute it after Armando killed the first hitman. I told him about the phone call I overheard—how he must’ve canceled it after he learned we were a couple. I’m not saying that makes it all right—and I won’t forgive Emilio for what he did—but it counts for something, I guess.

He leads me to the bedroom and gently pulls his shirt over my head. “I love seeing you in my clothes, Flowers,” he rumbles, working the button on my shorts. He drops to a crouch, sliding his hands down my thighs as he pulls them down and off my legs. Then he stands and walks around me, trailing his fingertips lightly over my skin. It’s so different from the rough way he usually takes me. He kisses across my shoulder, along the lines of my tattoo. “So beautiful,” he murmurs.

Warmth floods my chest, making my breasts grow heavy, my nipples taut. I don’t know if I’m sensing his emotions or my own—they’re so intertwined. All the hard edges, the walls between us are gone now.

He moves behind me and unhooks my bra then cups my breasts, strumming my nipples with his thumbs. His teeth graze my neck. “That goomba shit with Lorenzo?” he says. “That’s not me. I won’t ever do that to you. I make a vow to you, Flowers, I’ll keep it.”

My heart picks up speed. This man is going to be my husband. Daddy to our child. I hadn’t doubted him, but it’s nice to hear him swear to be faithful. I lean my head back against his shoulder and cover his hands with my fingers. He catches my wrists and pulls them above my head caged in one of his hands, lifting and spreading my breasts. With his other hand, he pinches my nipples, which are already hard as diamonds.

I moan softly. “They’re tender,” I complain.

He immediately stops. “Sorry, angel.” He nuzzles his mouth against my jaw.

“No, don’t stop. I like the way you touch me.”

“Come here.” He walks us both backward until we hit the bed and tumble to the springy mattress. After he pushes me to my back, his mouth descends on mine. The tenderness vanishes as raw hunger takes over. I tear his shirt off over his head. He knees my thighs apart. I unbutton his pants. He pulls off my panties. We are a wild tangle of lips and hands and melding bodies. I stroke my hands over his hard muscles, greedily touching everywhere I can—the bulging muscles of his arms, the ridges of his abdominals, the hard curve of his ass. He shucks his pants and slides into me unsheathed, his teeth sinking into the flesh of my neck.

I arch to take him deeper. “Yes.”

“Yes,” he echoes. He rocks into me with powerful surges. “Mine.” He braces my shoulder to keep my head from hitting the headboard, but strokes my cheek with his thumb, a shred of tenderness still there. “You’re mine now.”

My lids flutter with the effort of keeping my eyes from rolling back with pleasure, but I lock my gaze with his. “I was yours from the beginning,” I confess.

It’s true. He didn’t need to kidnap me and hold me captive. I would’ve gone with him anywhere. He had me with the first commanding touch.

“I love you,” I tell him, never having to hold back those words again. He must know, though, because I’m incapable of hiding feelings.

Armando throws his head back, almost like he’s in pain. He bares his teeth and roars, slamming into me hard, harder.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”

Armando stills, his face taut with strain, his hands gouging my hips into the mattress as his cock swells inside me. He groans, his head falling forward, his arms coming around me to keep me close. “I love you,” he whispers.

He thrusts deeper, and I gasp, loving the feeling of his enormous cock filling me to the brim and aching with need for more.

I lift my hand to stroke his cheek. His eyes close as he leans into my touch and kisses my palm.

“Forever mine,” he whispers.

My heart swells.

He thrusts his cock even deeper. A tear leaks out of the corner of my eye, and Armando licks it away.

“Forever,” I whisper.

“And always,” he says, his thrusts slow and deep and perfect.