Page 108 of Sins of the Orchid

“I don’t know,” I murmured. “Everything, I guess. I’m worried about Dad and how he’ll take the news. I don’t want to spend months without you, but I know you’re busy back home.”

He tucked hair behind my ear. “Your dad loves you and wants to protect you. Savio might be upset, but he’ll get over it.” His reassurance didn’t settle my nerves. “I won’t give you up, Amore. We’ll get through it. Together.” A ball of emotion curled in my throat and refused to budge.

I swallowed hard, trying not to let my emotions swallow me whole. “Together,” I repeated, my voice hoarse.

“That’s right.” He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “Always. Now get some sleep. You need rest after ourextra-curricularactivities right before dinner today.”

My lips curled into a smile. Earlier tonight, in between preparing our dinner, Santi and I got sidetracked. I’d never be able to look at lasagne with a straight face again. I thought back to it as I closed my eyes.

Bare feet against the cool tiles felt good. It had been hands down the best week so far. Santi, his scent, felt like home. He was home. I wanted to stay with him forever.

I followed Santi’s directions, put all the ingredients in a bowl and mixed it. He had me fixing sauce for the lasagne al forno. I couldn’t stop my eyes flicking to him every so often. He wore a plain white t-shirt and a pair of worn-out jeans that molded perfectly to his thick, strong thighs. God, his muscles! They bulged with every move, and it took all my self-restraint not to reach out and run my fingers down his biceps.

You’d never guess he was a mobster dressed like that in the middle of a white, airy marble kitchen. Just looking at him made me ache. The only time I felt whole was with him inside me, his raspy voice in my ear mumbling silly words, claiming me forever.

His eyes caught me gawking at him again, and his grin had butterflies running wild in my stomach. The smell of the sea mixed with our cooking drifted through the air. The windows were wide open and the sounds of the waves along the shoreline mixed with the banging of the pots and pans. But all those noises were drowned out, and the only thing I heard… the only thing I felt was the thundering of my heart and blood rushing through my veins.

I dreaded this week coming to an end. I couldn’t go weeks, months without him.

“See something you like, baby?” he asked, never stopping rolling pasta with his big hands. It would be a comical sight, if somehow he didn’t look so damn sexy even in the kitchen. First night we stayed in, I couldn’t stop staring. I have never seen a man of the Cosa Nostra in the kitchen, except to sneak in some food. Dang it, even outside of the Cosa Nostra, I haven’t seen a man in the kitchen. Not unless he was a cook.

“Amore?” he purred. His voice was deep, slithering down my spine with a rough caress. I loved what he could do to my body. Just the tone of his voice had every cell within me shaking for him.

Was it healthy? Probably not, but I didn’t give a shit.

I felt my lips curve into a smile as my eyes traveled over him. Now that I’d kissed him, felt him inside me, tasted him, it would be impossible to get over him. He was my missing puzzle piece. Yes, I was only twenty-one, but he felt so right. Not only on a physical level but emotionally too. He was my safety blanket, my savior, my rock.

My everything!

A small, knowing smile spilled across his face as he strode to the sink and washed his hands. Of course, he knew what he did to me. I was an open book to him. There was no sense in pretending. I loved him; I wanted to give him my all and wanted his all. When it came to him, I was just as selfish as the men of the Cosa Nostra. I didn’t want to share.

I just prayed Santino Russo would take care of my heart because somehow I knew deep down, I’d never survive if he broke it.

“I love…”—my courage faltered, and ‘you’remained behind my lips—“everything I see right now.”

Santi’s electric eyes locked on me with something dark and intense, and my stomach fluttered. I knew that look. Our eyes glued on each other, the attraction and need sizzled, ready to bake the pasta laid out on the kitchen counters.

“I need you,” I whispered, the throbbing ache between my thighs demanding to be sated. I had no shame when it came to Santi.

He is mine. He completes me!These two thoughts echoed so loud in my brain.

I’d be an empty shell without him. And the truth of those words stole my breath.

Santi stalked closer, pinning me against the counter. He took the bowl out of my hands and placed it behind us on the counter. I was doing a shitty job of stirring anyhow.

Reaching up, I pushed my fingers through his hair, tugging on it to bring him closer. He was too tall, and I wanted his lips on mine.

“I don’t want this week to end,” I said, my voice soft. I wasn’t brave enough to admit I was hopelessly, completely in love with him. He bent his head, his lips brushing against mine. It was the softest kiss he had ever given me.

“It’s just the beginning, Amore.” It sounded like a promise. Santi kept his promises.

My hands pulled him closer to me, starved for his touch. For more of him. When my nails scraped against the skin on his nape, a groan vibrated in his throat and my eyes fluttered shut. His tongue pushed through my lips, deepening the kiss.

This was the way it was every time with him. Every time we kissed, everything seemed to fade. A soft, whimpering sound escaped my lips as I rubbed myself against him, needing more of him. His hands came down to my ass, lifting me and my legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

“Bedroom,” I breathed out, panting. My hands fisted in his hair, our mouths clashing hungrily.

He took a few strides, but we never made it outside the kitchen. Instead, my back slammed against the wall and the kiss broke. But his mouth remained on my skin, trailing kisses down my neck. His scruff burned my skin in the most delicious way. His teeth nipped, his tongue licked, and my skin tingled with embers.