Page 39 of Raffaele

We lie there for a long moment, tangled together, slick with sweat, the scent of sex heavy in the air. My face is buried in her hair, my lips pressed against her temple. I feel the frantic beat of her heart slowly begin to calm, mirroring my own.

I lift my head, looking down at her. Her eyes are still closed, her lips swollen, a faint flush on her cheeks. She looks… sated. And completely undone.

A possessive satisfaction spreads through me. I’ve never felt anything like this. This complete loss of control.

I pull out of her slowly, the separation a dull ache. She whimpers softly, stirring. I roll onto my side, pulling her against me, tucking her head under my chin. My arm wraps around her waist, holding her tight, possessively.

She sighs, a soft, contented sound, and snuggles closer, her hand coming to rest on my chest, fingers tracing the outline of a tattoo.

I stare at the ceiling, the glittering lights of Milan still visible through the panoramic windows. The city hums, just as it did before. But everything is different now.

I let her in.

I let her break me.

And the terrifying truth is, I don’t regret a goddamn thing.

This means something. She was right. And now, I have to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about it.

Because walking away? That’s not an option anymore.

Not after this.

CHAPTER 19

NIKKI

The faint hum of the city is the first thing that registers. Then the weight. A heavy, warm weight draped over me, a powerful arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against a solid, muscled back.

Rafe.

My eyes flutter open, the darkness of the room slowly giving way to the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the panoramic windows.

I’m spooned against him, my back pressed to his front, his breath warm on my neck. The silk sheets are tangled around us, a luxurious mess. My body aches in the most exquisite way, a delicious soreness that hums with the memory of his touch, his thrusts, his growls.

God, what a night.

What aman.

Rafe’s a goddamn force of nature, a storm I willingly walked into, and I’m still buzzing from the lightning strike.

A small smile plays on my lips. He thinks he’s so in control, so calculating. But tonight, I saw the cracks. I saw the raw hunger, the possessive need that stripped away his carefully constructed control.

And I loved it.

I loved bringing him to his knees, making him lose that iron grip. It’s a dangerous game, I know, but the thrill of it is intoxicating.

I shift slightly, just enough to feel the hard ridge of his erection pressing against my ass. He’s already stirring. Of course he is. A man like him, once he’s tasted something he wants, he’s not letting go. Not easily, anyway.

His arm tightens around me, pulling me even closer. A low groan rumbles in his chest, a deep, sleepy sound that sends a shiver down my spine. His hand slides from my waist, moving lower, cupping my hip, then stroking the curve of my ass. My breath hitches. He’s not even fully awake, and he’s already claiming me again.

"Nikki," his voice is a rough whisper, still thick with sleep, but laced with an undeniable edge. "You awake?"

I hum in response, feigning a deeper sleep for a moment, just to see what he’ll do. His fingers dig gently into my flesh, pulling me back against him until there’s no space left between us. His hard cock presses insistently against me, already growing, already demanding.

"Don't play coy," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin behind my ear. "I feel you. You're dripping wet."

A laugh bubbles up, a soft, husky sound. "Maybe I am," I whisper, my voice still a little raspy from sleep and from… everything else. "What are you going to do about it?"