Page 61 of Rosetti Family New York

I spent the night hard as stone, my dick not getting the message that she needed to rest and recover from her injuries. I wanted her with an urgency that scares me. It’s all I can do to keep my hands off her, my mind spinning with need.

She doesn’t even flinch when I get out of bed, when I pace back and forth, wrestling with this thing inside me. I want to protecther. I want to keep her. But that’s not my call. My blood’s too hot to think straight, and I can’t even touch her without worrying she’ll pull away. I stare at her, and I’m lost. Caged by my own obsession. Watching her like this, my stomach in knots, my pulse all over the place—this isn’t what I’m used to. This clawing, gnawing desperation to protect, to hold, to own.

I touch her face, and she stirs. I am a coward for what I have to do, and I’ve never feared anything as much as her answer.

Letting her go should be easy, but my body screams that it’s the wrong fucking call. The bed creaks when I sit on it, but I hardly notice over the roar in my head. I want to smash things, punch walls, break anything that isn’t her, but there’s no fight here, not really. Not one I can win. Her hair fans out across the pillow, soft brown against white. Her breathing is deep, steady. Mine is not. Mine is ragged and raw, coming out in gasps and curses. How did I let it get this far? She needs time, distance. Not a hotheaded Rosetti screwing up her life. And definitely not me pinning her to this bed the way I want to, the way I need to.

My eyes burn. I haven’t slept at all. Just lay here like a fucking coward, staring at her in the dark, counting her breaths, counting mine. Wondering how much time we have before everything blows up. She looks so peaceful now, almost fragile.

But now it’s morning, and I’m out of excuses.

Her arm is draped over her stomach, a bandage peeking out from under her shirt. She stirs, and a line forms between her brows. The first crack in her calm. My gut twists at the sight. That little furrow says more than words ever could. I wish I could ignore it. Wish I could believe that she’s safe here, but the bruise on her cheek reminds me of the truth. Reminds me of why this needs to happen.

I reach out to her, my fingers hovering above her skin. She’s warm, and my touch makes her shiver. My heart slams againstmy ribs. She turns toward me, her lashes fluttering. I brace myself, digging in deep for courage I don’t have.

“Leo?” She says my name like it’s the simplest thing in the world, but I know better. There’s a softness to her voice, a warmth that makes my chest squeeze. That’s the first time she’s called me anything but my full name, Leonardo, and I want to get used to it. To her.

But that would make this harder than it already is.

“I know why you married me,” I say, each word its own betrayal, my mouth so dry I can barely spit the syllables out. My words hang heavy between us, almost choking me. “You thought it was the only way to protect your sister.”

Her eyes snap open, blue and bright, and I want to drown in them even though I know it’s a bad fucking idea. She watches me like she’s waiting for the rest of the blow, like it’s just getting started. I wonder if she knows how much this costs me. If she cares.

"Obviously," she agrees.

“I will still protect her, you know.” I say it before I can stop myself, before I can come to terms with the fact that I might actually mean it. “You can leave.” There’s a long pause, and with each second that ticks by, I lose a little more of myself. I’m not sure how much there is left. I run a hand through my hair and hate how weak it makes me feel. “I’ll always protect you both. Money, guards, new identities, whatever you need. For life.”

She is silent, watching, thinking. She sits up, wincing as she props herself against the headboard. I hate that I notice the way her shirt slips off her shoulder, hate the way I can’t stop noticing. Her silence is louder than any scream. My jaw clenches.

“You’re serious.” Her voice is colder now, and it makes my blood boil in a way I can’t understand.

“You can run,” I say, and it comes out more savage than I intend. But I need to say it. I need it to be clear so she knowswhat she’s worth, what she’s losing. “You can hide. I don’t care where you go.”

The bed shifts as she pulls away, as if she’s already leaving me. I stare at her, trying to read her mind, trying to figure out what happens next. She narrows her eyes, defiant. She’s testing me, but I’m too angry to care. Or too scared.

“That’s what you want?” She looks almost sad, and it hits me harder than a bullet.

“I want you to have a choice.” I nearly choke on the words, on each syllable that leaves me more hollow. “Don’t you get it? I’m releasing you from my rules.” I shouldn't want to say what I do next, but the thought of her with someone else nearly kills me. “But if you touch another man—” I meet her eyes, and my pulse hammers. “I’ve gotta be honest. He’s dead.”

Her lips curve into a small, dangerous smile. “I choose to stay.” She says it with such certainty, I’m sure I’ve misheard her. Her fingers are cool and soft when they brush my cheek, and my heart slams against my chest, wild and unhinged. “I married you,” she says, fierce and beautiful. “Not your family. Not your protection. You.” She looks at me with affection, and it makes me feel weak, like a fucking fool.

“You’re fucking insane,” I mutter, but it comes out broken, full of a hope I don’t deserve. I hear the words, barely recognize them. Barely recognize myself, the way I spin between relief and disbelief, between the fear and the need to hold her so tight she never has a chance to change her mind.

“You’re mine too, you know.” She leans in, and I catch a hint of her scent. Light, floral, but there’s steel underneath. “I told you, Leonardo. You don’t get to own me without paying the price.”

And just like that, I’m lost. My hand slides into her hair, and I pull her close. She gasps, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I love you,” I say. It’s more truth than I’ve ever spoken.

I kiss her like she’s my last breath, because that’s what she is. The only air in my lungs, the only thing that makes them burn. I kiss her and feel everything, the weight of her words and mine. I kiss her and know I’m hers.

We’re already breathless, panting and clutching at each other like we’ll die if we stop. Eleanor’s mouth is a drug, a poison, andI want to overdose. I press her back into the bed, my hand in her hair and my pulse thundering in my ears. I thought I could resist, but I’ve never been good at self-control, not when it comes to her. She’s going to be the death of me, but I’m too far gone to care. The sun climbs over the city, and I lose myself in her.

She kisses me like she can’t get enough. Her fingers dig into my back, sharp and demanding. I can’t believe I almost let this go. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think I could let her go. My wife. My addiction. We roll, tangled in sheets and each other, and I pin her beneath me, her body soft and yielding. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I groan into her mouth.

I’m never letting her go.

We tear at each other’s clothes. Her shirt first, over her head and gone. She gasps as I run my hands over her bare skin, mapping every inch like a man possessed. I’m starving, and she’s the only thing that can satisfy me. Her hips rise to meet me, and my brain short-circuits. I can barely think, can only feel, only want.