Page 330 of Rosetti Family New York

"I love you," I whisper, finally saying the words I've kept inside. "I've loved you every day since I left, through every lonely night and every moment I pretended to work for Chase while believing his lies about Sarah. I love you so much that I walked away to protect what I thought was my last family, and I love you enough to stay now that I know the truth."

"I love you too," he says softly, and the sincerity in his voice breaks down all my defenses. "More than family, more than duty, more than my own life. I love you enough to have searched the world for you, and I love you enough to do anything to keep you safe."

When he kisses me, it tastes of tears, coffee, and a longing that's been held back too long. His lips are gentle on mine, but his hold is firm and secure. One hand is in my hair, and the other presses against my back to pull me closer. This kiss isn't filled with the urgency of our past encounters; it's deeper and more genuine. I can taste his tears.

"I need you," I whisper against his lips, the admission carrying layers of meaning beyond simple physical desire. "I need you to help me remember who I am beneath all the lies, all the roles I've played, all the masks I've worn for Chase. I need you to see me, really see me, and still choose to love what you find."

His response is to roll me beneath him with careful reverence, positioning himself between my thighs with the kind ofdeliberate intent that makes my breath catch and my core clench with anticipation. I can feel the weight of him settling over me, the burn of his bare chest against my breasts, the rough hair on his thighs scratching against the sensitive skin of my inner legs. "I've seen you," he murmurs, eyes holding mine with devastating intensity while his hand traces the curve of my hip, fingertips leaving trails of heat on my skin. "Every version of you, the woman who sacrificed everything for family, the survivor who's spent years fighting battles I never knew about, the fighter who chose love over fear despite impossible odds. And I love all of them."

His hands map my body, fingers tracing curves he's memorized through surveillance footage but hasn't touched since I disappeared. When he finds the thin scar along my ribs, his expression darkens with possessive fury, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he processes what it means. I catalog the shift automatically, reading the dangerous promise in his stillness the way I've learned to read threat levels in a dozen different countries.

"Who hurt you?" The question emerges dangerous and low, his words carrying the deadly promise that makes hardened criminals confess their sins.

His finger gently traces the scar, a tender touch contrasting with the anger beneath his control.

"Chase's man in Berlin," I manage, back arching as his fingers slide between my thighs, finding wetness that makes him groan with masculine satisfaction. The sound vibrates through his chest, and I can feel his cock hardening against my hip, thick and insistent and ready. "Thought I was holding back information. Decided to make his displeasure permanent."

"And?" His thumb circles my clit with maddening precision while two fingers slide inside me, stretching and filling in a rhythm that makes coherent thought nearly impossible. I'malready soaked for him, my body remembering his touch even after all this time, responding to him like muscle memory that refuses to fade.

"I made his displeasure very temporary," I gasp, hips bucking against his hand as pleasure builds in intensity. "Permanently temporary."

His laugh is dark, approving, tinged with savage satisfaction that makes my core clench around his fingers. "My deadly girl. My beautiful, dangerous, perfectly lethal woman."

"Yours," I breathe, the word carrying my surrender. "Everything I am, everything I've been, everything I'll become yours."

The confession seems to snap something inside him. His careful control fractures, revealing the raw hunger beneath. He withdraws his fingers, and before I can protest, he's positioning himself at my entrance, making my entire body clench with anticipation.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, words strained with barely leashed need. "Tell me you want me to reclaim every inch of you, to make you remember what it feels like to belong to someone absolutely."

"I want it," I breathe, hands fisting in his dark hair as I pull him down for a kiss. "Make me yours again."

He enters me slowly, deliberately, each inch a claiming that makes my back arch and my breath catch in my throat. I can feel every ridge, every vein, the way he stretches me until I'm completely filled, utterly claimed, entirely his. When he's fully seated inside me, we both go still, overwhelmed by the connection that's been building for so long.

"God, Mara," he breathes, forehead pressed against mine as he fights for control. "You feel like coming home."

The simple honesty of it breaks me open. Rage and grief are gone for a moment, and all I can feel is him.

"Move," I whisper, nails digging into his shoulders as need overwhelms sentiment. "Please, Emilio. I need to feel you claim me."

He begins to move then, setting a rhythm that's both tender and possessive, each thrust a declaration of ownership that I accept gladly. The sheets beneath us grow damp with sweat.

"I dreamed about this," he confesses hoarsely, hands sliding down to grip my thighs, spreading me wider so he can drive deeper. "Every night I dreamed about having you beneath me again, about hearing you moan my name while I reclaimed every inch of you."

"I dreamed about it too," I admit, my words fracturing as pleasure builds like wildfire through my nervous system. "About your hands on my skin, your mouth on my throat, your cock filling me so deeply I couldn't remember my own name."

The admission seems to drive him past the point of reason. His movements become urgent, desperate, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside me that makes my vision blur with stars. His mouth finds my throat, teeth and tongue working the sensitive skin until I'm gasping his name in prayer.

"Never again," he growls against my neck, pushing deeper with each word. "You'll never serve another man's interests, never sacrifice yourself for lies. You're mine now, Mara. Mine to protect, to possess, to love until we're too old to remember why we were ever apart."

"Yes," I gasp, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Always. Even when I was working for Chase, even when I thought Sarah needed my obedience, even when I was going against what I wanted—I was always yours."

His hand slides between us to find my clit, fingers working the sensitive bundle of nerves while he continues that relentless rhythm. The combination sends pleasure cascading through me in waves that make my entire body tremble.

"Come for me," he commands, words strained. "Let me see what I've been missing, what I've been hunting for across continents and years. Show me you're mine."

His words and touch push me over the edge into an orgasm that takes my breath away and overwhelms my senses. My body tightens around him, pulsing with waves of intense pleasure. He follows with a groan, whispering my name like a prayer, his body trembling as he reaches his own climax. I can feel him inside me, warm and strong, marking me in a deeply primal way as his hips move with each wave of release.

We stay connected for a while, breathing heavily, our hearts beating in sync.