33

MILLIE
Faster and bolder we moved, a tempo dictated by our shared desire. Gio’s fingers mirrored the pace, a skilled ministration that drove me to the edge of reason. My voice caught, his name an exhalation as he flicked my clit, sending me spiraling into euphoria. The world narrowed to the exquisite tension coiling within me, and with his growl, release crashed over him. I shuddered as I watched him find his own pleasure, his essence spilling over our intertwined hands.
My chest heaved against his, our bodies now intimately entwined. The aftermath of pleasure lingered, and my nipples brushed against his skin, evoking a delicious shiver. His once rigid length, now satiated, gradually softened against my palm. He withdrew his hand from beneath my panties, his fingers finding a resting place on my hip.
Eyes closed, I listened to the echoing rhythm of his heartbeat, a reminder of the passion we’d shared. Gio’s tender kiss atop my head dispelled any lingering awkwardness, replacing it with a newfound sense of connection. Hope swelled within me, a promise of a deeper bond between us.
As our breathing steadied, Gio reached for a tissue box, offering me a tissue before tending to himself. I wiped away the evidence of our intimacy, my thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The unfamiliar intensity of our encounter left me both apprehensive and eager for more. He was my husband, yes, but societal norms and my upbringing clouded my enjoyment of this newfound connection.
Gio’s touch, a soothing gesture, grounded me in the moment. I exhaled slowly, opting not to overanalyze, but rather to follow what felt right. My breath caught as my gaze landed on the cut adorning Gio’s side, its existence momentarily forgotten in the throes of passion. Concern spurred me into action.
“You’re bleeding,” I exclaimed, worry etching my features. “Does it hurt?”
Casually, he regarded the wound, a tranquil expression masking any discomfort. “Not much. It’s nothing. I’ve grown used to such things.”
My fingers brushed against the skin around the cut, empathy and concern driving my touch. “It should be stitched. What if it gets infected?”
A glint of humor danced in his eyes, a reminder of our shared intimacy. “Perhaps you’ll luck out and become a young widow.”
I shot him a mock glare, the levity of his comment clashing with the intensity of our recent moments. My heart felt inexplicably closer to him now, and the idea of parting seemed inconceivable. My father’s expectations loomed, but they held no sway in this intimate space we had forged.
“If it bothers you so,” he mused, “why not fetch the first aid kit from the bathroom?”
I leapt from the bed with renewed purpose, hurrying to retrieve the necessary supplies. “Where is it?” I called.
“Below the sink,” came his reply, a reminder that amidst the complexities of life, there were simple tasks to be tended to.
The room wasn’t devoid of first aid kits; in fact, there were nearly two dozen of them. Amid the options, I selected one and made my way back to the bedroom. However, before I joined Gio beneath the sheets, I took a moment to retrieve my nightgown from the floor and slipped it on. Gio was comfortably positioned against the headboard, his form still beautifully bare. I found myself captivated by the contours of his torso, though a blush warmed my cheeks at his unreserved nakedness.
As I settled beside him, Gio’s gentle touch grazed my cheek. “Still feeling a bit shy after everything,” he mused, his fingers tugging playfully at the hem of my nightgown. “I must admit, I preferred you without this.”
Suppressing a coy smile, I asked, “What would you like me to do?” With the first aid kit positioned between us, I opened it up.
“Many things,” Gio murmured with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
I rolled my eyes in response. “I meant with regards to your cut.”
Gio’s voice dipped, husky and intimate. “There are disinfectant wipes. Clean the wound, and I’ll handle the needle.”
I tore open a packet, the potent scent of disinfectant immediately filling the air. Retrieving a wipe, I unfolded it and gently pressed it against the cut on Gio’s skin. A subtle twitch ran through him, yet he remained silent. “Is it stinging?” I inquired.
“I’m alright,” he reassured, his tone steady. “Apply a bit more pressure.”
Following his instruction, I diligently continued, observing his reactions closely. As the wipe found its way into the trash and I leaned back, Gio commenced the task of stitching his wound, his movements practiced and confident. Witnessing this procedure stirred a queasy feeling within me. I couldn’t fathom performing such an act on myself. As my gaze trailed over Gio’s body and the assortment of scars that adorned him, a realization dawned he must have done this countless times before. Once Gio seemed satisfied with his handiwork, he discarded the needle.
“We should cover it,” I suggested, my fingers rummaging through the kit in search of bandages. Yet, Gio shook his head.
“It’ll heal faster if it’s left uncovered,” he explained.
“Are you certain? But what if dirt or something gets in?”
Gio’s laughter resonated gently. “No need to fret. This won’t be the last instance of me returning home with a scrape.” Despite his calm demeanor, I couldn’t help feeling concerned. It perturbed me that he took his well-being so casually.
Extending his arms, Gio invited me closer. “Come here.”
“Shouldn’t you be leaving soon?” My gaze flicked toward the clock; it was only eight, but usually, by this time, Gio would have departed.
“Not today. The situation with the Bratva is under control, at least for now. I’ll need to be at one of the Familia’s clubs in the afternoon.”
A faint smile curved my lips I couldn’t help it. The thought of not enduring another solitary day lifted my spirits. I nestled against Gio’s side, and his arm enveloped me.
“I didn’t anticipate you’d look so content,” he remarked in a hushed tone.
“I’ve been feeling lonely,” I confessed, my voice betraying a vulnerability I disliked. Nonetheless, it was the truth. Gio’s touch on my arm tightened subtly.
“I have a few cousins you could hang out with. They’d enjoy accompanying you for shopping or something.”
“Why does everyone assume I’m eager to shop?”
“Then choose something else. Enjoy a coffee, visit a spa the possibilities are endless.”
“I still have that spa certificate from my bridal shower.”
“Perfect. If you’re willing, I can arrange for you to spend time with a few of my cousins.”
Shaking my head, I resisted the offer. “After what happened with Nessa, I’m not particularly keen on meeting more of your cousins.”
His curiosity piqued, Gio inquired, “What did she do?” A subtle tension coursed through him beneath me.
I instinctively pulled back, my gaze settling on Gio. But it was in that moment that the weight of an untold story hit me like a tidal wave. Amidst the swirling chaos of the past few days, I had never opened up to him about the night I stumbled upon him and Alyssa together. And strangely, he had never questioned me about it either. Of course, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been preoccupied enough with the Bratva’s mounting troubles.
A sigh escaped my lips as I mentally prepared myself to share this hidden part of my recent history. “Gio,” I began, my voice tinged with a mix of resignation and lingering discomfort, “I should’ve told you this earlier. The way I found out about you and Alyssa…” Just uttering her name felt like swallowing a bitter pill, a rush of memories I’d rather avoid.
With a sudden surge of unease, I sat up slightly, distancing myself from Gio’s enveloping warmth. My legs instinctively curled against my chest, a feeble attempt to shield myself from the overwhelming emotions that surged within me. Gio, sensing the shift, propped himself up, his lips pressing a consoling kiss against my shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it held a weight of reassurance that I desperately needed.
“Nessa gave me a letter,” I continued, my voice steadier now, recounting the sequence of events that led me to uncovering his betrayal. The mere mention of her name triggered a wave of nausea, dredging up unwanted recollections. I fought to steady my breath, as if grappling with the past anew.
Gio’s features twisted into a mixture of confusion and contained fury. “Nessa gave you a letter that led you to the apartment?” His voice held a controlled anger, as if struggling to restrain the tempest raging beneath the surface.