49

MILLIE
I dipped my head under the water’s surface, hoping the sensation would clear the fog that lingered in my mind. As I resurfaced, Gio slid into the tub behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me and drawing me back against his solid chest. It was then that I became aware of his undeniable arousal, a fact that sent a mixture of emotions surging through me. I shifted, and as I did, he moved with me, his length brushing against my intimate skin. The realization of how easily he could bridge the gap between us made me tense.
He groaned, his voice strained, and with a controlled effort, he moved himself away from me. Then, with deliberate intent, he pulled me to rest against his chest, his heart pounding against my back. It was an act of restraint, a choice he was making despite the primal desire that pulsed between us.
“Some men would have taken advantage of the situation,” I murmured, my voice laced with a mixture of appreciation and curiosity.
Gio’s jaw clenched, his internal struggle visible in the lines that formed on his forehead. “I’m that kind of man, Millie. Don’t kid yourself into believing I’m a good man. I’m neither noble nor a gentleman. I’m a cruel bastard.”
The starkness of his admission hung heavily in the air, casting shadows over the vulnerability of the moment. But my response was swift, my words a quiet affirmation that carried the weight of my feelings. “Not to me.”
In that moment, his touch felt like both a lifeline and a confession, a silent admission of his complex nature. Gio’s lips met the crown of my head, a tender kiss that communicated more than words ever could. I wished he would say more, wished he would acknowledge the emotions that lingered between us, unspoken yet undeniable.
And then, as if he had heard my silent plea, his voice broke the silence. “You mentioned something Alyssa said to you.” His tone was casual, but his body betrayed the tension that gripped him. “Something about fucking you bloody.”
A surge of unease swept through me as memories of Alyssa’s cruel words resurfaced. “Oh, yeah. She said you’d hurt me, fuck me like an animal, fuck me bloody when she talked to me during our wedding reception. Scared me out of my mind.” A frown creased my brow as a new realization dawned. “I think that guy last night almost said the same thing.”
The tension in Gio’s body seemed to amplify, his muscles coiled like a predator about to strike. “Before I killed him he said one of the women who bought dope from him told him you were a skank who needed to be taught a lesson. She gave him cash.”
My head lifted, my eyes narrowing as a disturbing possibility took root. “Do you think it was Alyssa?”
Gio’s eyes mirrored the tempestuous turmoil of a stormy sky, his gaze fixed on a distant point. “I’m absolutely certain it was her. The description matches perfectly, and who else could possibly have a motive to launch an attack on you?”
My heart raced as I absorbed his words. “But what’s your plan?”
A conflicted mixture of anger and restraint played across his features. “I can’t just eliminate her, tempting as it may be to slit her damn throat. It would unleash a world of trouble with her father and brother. Yet, I need to have a serious conversation with them. Make them understand that they must rein her in, lest we cut off the flow of money.”
A gnawing question arose in me. “And if they resist?”
He responded with a conviction that left no room for doubt. “They won’t. Alyssa has been a thorn in their side for far too long. They’ll likely dispatch her off to Europe or Asia for some supposed rehabilitation, anything to get her out of the picture.”
I drew closer to him, my lips finding his in a tender kiss, trying to ease the tension that had taken residence within him. But even that connection couldn’t fully dispel the weight that clung to Gio’s frame. His voice trembled as he voiced his fears. “I can’t shake off the thought of what might have happened if Dario and Valerio hadn’t intervened. The idea of that bastard laying his filthy hands on you… It’s enough to make me want to kill him all over again. The mere notion that he could have…”
He halted, his head shaking as if to dislodge those horrific images. I understood, though, that his turmoil didn’t stem from affection for me; rather, it was rooted in his possessiveness. The idea that another could claim even a moment of possession over what he deemed his was unbearable. I found myself succumbing to a sense of acceptance. “When Harper leaves in a few days, I’ll be yours,” I whispered against his throat, the words heavy with implication.
His hands paused momentarily on my back, his reaction unspoken. He didn’t need to question my resolve; we both knew the stakes. Gio had never purported to be a virtuous man.
~*~
Over the past days, Harper and I had woven a tapestry of shared memories from laughter-filled cafes to lively shopping sprees. However, today marked her return to Chicago. I clung to her in the departure hall of JFK, my embrace conveying both my longing and a brewing apprehension over the pact with Gio.
Summoning a measure of determination, I reluctantly released my grip on Harper. “Promise you’ll come back soon?”
Her eyes held a mixture of affection and caution. “You better call me every day, remember?”
“I won’t forget,” I vowed, watching her recede into the distance until she vanished beyond the security checkpoint.
Gio lingered a few steps behind me, a reassuring presence in this moment of separation. I hurried over to him, burying my face in his chest, seeking solace. His hand moved in a soothing rhythm over my back. His voice carried a hint of eagerness as he suggested, “I thought we might grab dinner and enjoy a relaxing evening.”
“Sounds perfect,” I replied with a tender smile, detecting a fleeting change in his expression, a shift in his demeanor that flickered and vanished like a phantom thought.
~*~
The evening unfolded with a palpable tension in the air. My appetite had been meager at best, my stomach roiling with a mixture of anticipation and unease. The stakes were high, and I wasn’t willing to take any unnecessary risks. Gio, my partner, seemed to maintain a facade of nonchalance, ignoring the turmoil that churned within me. Unbeknownst to me, he consumed the remnants of my untouched meal, a subtle act of support that spoke volumes.
As we crossed the threshold of our luxurious penthouse, I was drawn to the liquor cabinet, hoping to find a semblance of liquid courage. However, before I could even pour myself a drink, Gio’s grip tightened around my wrist, pulling me close against him. “Don’t,” his voice resonated with a mix of caution and tenderness.
Sweeping me off my feet, quite literally, he carried me effortlessly up the stairs and into our bedroom. Setting me down gently on the edge of the bed, our eyes locked, a silent conversation transpiring between us. His arousal was evident, and my nerves coiled tighter. It was a heady mixture of trepidation and desire, a compelling force I couldn’t ignore.
Gio’s movements were deliberate as he joined me on the bed. With a sigh, I reclined, my palms pressed flat against the soft expanse of the blanket beneath me. His lips found mine in a kiss that was both familiar and reassuring, his skilled tongue dancing with mine. As his lips trailed away, a hunger in his gaze, he took my already heightened sensations to another level, his mouth enveloping a sensitive peak through the fabric of my dress. My hands found his head, fingers tangling in his hair, allowing the rush of sensations to eclipse my lingering fears.
He was unrelenting, a cascade of urgent kisses and touches that painted a new shade to our intimacy. Fabric yielded to his determination, my dress sliding down my frame until I was left in only my panties. He took a moment to admire me, his gaze tracing the contours of my body. With a swift motion, he tore away my panties, leaving me exposed to his gaze and intentions. Heat radiated from his mouth as he delved between my legs, his tongue exploring the tender flesh. A guttural growl escaped him as he pulled the remnants of the fabric aside, his touch now direct, electrifying.
Abruptly, he shifted his focus, divesting himself of his shirt and then his trousers, his arousal evident and unapologetic. The raw hunger etched on his features was both exciting and intimidating, a surge of uncertainty coursing through me. “You’re mine,” his words were possessive, laced with a primal edge that sent a shiver down my spine.