Page 113 of Rosetti Family New York

Slowly, he steps towards me, his gaze never leaving mine. His hand comes up to cup my cheek while his thumb strokes my lower lip gently. The touch is light but it sends shivers down my spine making goosebumps rise on my skin.

I reach up to touch his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before moving down to the firm planes of his chest.

"Dom...." I gasp when his fingers trail down to my neck and then my collarbone, tracing each line and curve.

He chuckles at the sound of his name on my lips, the sound deep and resonant in the quiet room. "Patience, cara," he murmurs, dipping his head to capture my lips in a searing kiss.

His tongue brushes against mine in a slow dance that has me spiraling into a heady whirlpool of desire. The taste of him is intoxicating, and my fingers dig into his back, desperate for more contact.

He breaks away slowly, leaving me breathless and wanting. His hands roam over my body as he steps back, taking me infrom head to toe. His eyes are lust-filled, his gaze devouring every inch of my exposed skin.

"You're exquisite," he confesses, his voice low and rough. "Mine."

His possessiveness sends a frisson of excitement through me. A small part of me is terrified by how much I love it, how much I want to be claimed by him. But the larger part, the part that's come alive in his arms tonight, revels in it.

His fingers trace over my curves with a reverence that takes my breath away. Every touch is firm yet careful — as if he’s afraid that he might break me. His hands continue their exploration, moving down my body, along my sides, over the curve of my waist. He’s taking his time, teasing me with every touch, every kiss. His palm finds my breast and he strokes the hardened peak with his thumb, his touch feather-light and maddeningly slow.

I moan into his mouth until he dips his head to replace his thumb with his mouth. The sensation of his lips on my skin is electrifying and I can’t suppress the whimper that comes out of my mouth as he takes me in deeper.

He leads me towards the bedroom — a sprawling space dominated by an oversized four-poster bed beneath an ornate chandelier.

His hands grip my hips, lifting me up off the ground. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, pressing my body against his in a way that makes us both groan. He carries me over to the bed, laying me down gently before covering my body with his own.

The feeling of him against me is intoxicating. His hardness nudges at my entrance, making me whimper in need. But he remains still, capturing my gaze with his own. His eyes are so intense; they're nearly black with desire. And yet, there's a gentleness there that makes my heart stutter.

"I love you," he murmurs against my lips before thrusting into me.

The words hit me harder than I expect. I gasp at the intensity of them, at the intensity of him filling me completely. Tears prick at the corner of my eyes as I look up at him. The response is on my tongue, but it doesn’t flow out naturally, so I swallow him in another kiss.

And then he's moving again, and God, it's ecstasy.

He begins to move, the rhythm slow and measured at first. His thrusts are perfectly timed, each one sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through me. The sensation of him inside me is dizzying — a delicious combination of pleasure and a hint of pain that has me tilting my head back in bliss. His hand finds mine, our fingers entwining as he continues to move within me.

I move with him, my body arching up to meet his every thrust. He's buried inside of me, so deep that I can feel him in every nerve ending. My hands roam over his back, tracing the lines of his muscles as he moves.

His groans fill the room, the sound raw and desperate. He's holding nothing back now, his body hammering into mine as he chases his release. I can feel him unraveling, his movements growing erratic and wild. And then he's there, spilling into me with a harsh cry of my name.

His hand slips between our bodies, finding my sensitive nub. He toys with it, adding to the pleasure that's already threatening to consume me.

"Zemër," I moan out, the Albanian term slipping from me as I cling to him, my nails digging into the hard muscles of his back as every muscle in my body contracts.

Domenico is buried deep, lodged under my skin, and I never want him to leave.

19

Domenico

Everything feels different today. The light through the window, the feel of the sheets, the slow, soft pull of Besiana's breath against my neck. For the first time in years, I don't want to move. Even the ache in my shoulder is less cruel. Her leg is thrown across me, heavy and warm. Her arm too. I don't know where she ends and I begin, and I don't care. I can still smell her on my skin. I can still taste her on my tongue. I can still hear the way she said my name last night, cracking open my world.

The sheets rustle as she moves. She sighs softly, her lips barely brushing my neck. I hold my breath so I don’t wake her, so I can hold onto this—the way she feels beside me, the way she makes me feel—before the day crashes in with all its expectations and demands. Last night, I said it out loud. Three words that taste foreign in my mouth, that I’ve never said before. “I love you.” Simple, exposed. For once, I wasn’t strategic. For once, I was the fool. It felt like handing her a loaded gun and hoping she wouldn’t shoot. But I meant it. I still do. The look in her eyes when she realized I wasn’t playing, wasn’t lying.

She didn't say it back, but I didn't expect her to. I told her because it was true. Because it is true.

I close my eyes, willing myself back to sleep. I don’t want this feeling to slip away. The hotel penthouse is quiet, just the low hum of the city outside. Her breathing steadies me. I haven’t slept this well in years, but I woke up wanting more from her. I always do.

Her hair is a tangle across my chest, soft and dark. She lets me touch it now. She lets me touch her everywhere. I shift beneath her, feel her leg tighten around me like she doesn’t want me to leave. Or maybe that’s just what I want it to mean. I think about last night, how she looked at me like no one else was watching. How she opened up for me, wide and beautiful and mine.

Besiana sighs, a low, sleepy sound that makes me hard all over again. The entire room smells like her, and I breathe it in, wondering if I'm still dreaming. She stirs, shifts against me, but doesn’t wake. She never lets her guard down like this. Her makeup is smudged, a shadow under her eyes, and she’s never looked more perfect.