Page 71 of Lupo

"That's it," he growls. "God, you feel so good. So tight around me."

I'm close again, impossibly fast. The combination of my fingers on my clit and his thickness hitting that spot inside me with every thrust. His rhythm gets erratic, and I know he's close too.

"Come for me. Let me feel it."

And I do. The second orgasm is even more intense than the first, radiating out from where we're joined, making my whole body shake. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my cry, and I feel him stiffen above me, his own release following moments later. He buries his face in my neck, muffling his groan against my skin, his body shuddering.

We collapse together, breathing hard, hearts pounding. He's heavy on top of me but I don't want him to move. I want to stay connected like this forever.

Finally, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him so we're facing each other. His hand strokes down my back, gentle now, soothing.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. “Really, okay? Even after what happened today?”

"Better than okay." I kiss him, slow and deep. “We’re safe now.”

We lie there in the darkness, wrapped around each other, and I feel something shift. Like pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

Whatever comes next, whatever his past holds, whatever dangers we'll face.

We'll face them together.

And that's all that matters.

Chapter 21: Lupo

One month.

It's been one month since I killed Draco Vitale, and the world hasn't ended. No police have come to the door. No men in expensive suits asking questions. No bodies discovered, no investigations launched.

It's like he simply disappeared.

Which, I suppose, he did.

I wake to sunlight streaming through Isabella's bedroom window and the warm weight of her body against mine. Her head is on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach, her breathing deep and even.

This is our normal life now. Has been for weeks.

I don't sleep in the barn anymore. Haven't since that night. Every evening, after Elena goes to bed, I come to this room. To Isabella. And every morning, I wake up exactly like this.

Like I belong here.

The thought should terrify me. A month ago, I didn't even know my own name. Now I'm living in this woman's house, sleeping in her bed, playing father to her daughter.

But it doesn't terrify me. It feels right in a way nothing else has since I woke up with no memory.

This feels like my home.

Isabella stirs against me, her hand sliding across my chest. "You're thinking too loud," she mumbles, still half-asleep.

"Sorry."

"What time is it?"

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. "Almost six."

"Too early." She burrows closer. "Stay."

"I have to get to the site by seven."