Page 76 of Deadly Alliance
I look at Noemi. She doesn't flinch. She looks right back at me, her chin tilted up, fully prepared to stand beside me in the blood and the mud.
"Let them sit in the dark and bleed for a few hours," I instruct, my eyes never leaving hers. "When the sun comes up, I am going down there. And I am going to find out exactly where Volkov is hiding."
I guide Noemi down the hallway, leaving the destruction behind us.
When we reach the master suite, the doors are intact. I kick them shut and lock the deadbolt. The room is quiet, insulated from the chaos outside.
I turn to her.
"Take this off," I command softly, tugging at the lapel of her ruined burgundy jacket.
She doesn't argue. She shrugs out of the jacket, letting it drop to the floor. She unbuttons the silk blouse beneath it, her fingers trembling slightly, until it joins the jacket. She stands before me in nothing but her lace bra and trousers, her skin smudged with dust and soot.
I use my good hand to unbuckle my belt, kicking off my shoes. I shrug out of my shirt, gritting my teeth as the fabric pulls against the fresh blood seeping into my bandages.
"You're bleeding again," she whispers, stepping into my space. Her cool fingers gently trace the edge of the thick white gauze wrapped around my ribs.
"It doesn't matter," I tell her, capturing her hand and bringing her palm to my lips. "I don't feel it. I don't feel anything but you."
29
Noemi
The soot and plaster dust coating my skin suddenly feel entirely irrelevant. I look at the man who just fought his way through an ambush and a sniper, bleeding and exhausted, just to get back to me. His chest is heavily bandaged, a fresh crimson stain seeping through the white gauze. He needs rest. He needs Dr. Santoro.
But looking into his eyes, burning with desperate hunger, I know neither of us is going to sleep right now. We need this. We need to erase the memory of the gunfire, the smoke, and the paralyzing fear of losing each other.
I step into his space, crowding him against the edge of the mattress. My fingers drop to the silver buckle of his belt.
Cassio’s breath hitches. His left hand comes up to grip my hip, his thumb pressing into my bare skin above the waistband of my trousers.
"Lie back," I murmur, my voice is steady, even though my heart is hammering a hundred miles an hour. "You tore your stitches. If you try to take control tonight, you are going to bleed out on these sheets, and I am not patching you up again."
A ragged, breathless laugh escapes his throat. He doesn't argue. He lets go of my hip and carefully lowers himself backward onto the mattress, gritting his teeth as his torn shoulder protests the movement. He settles against the pillows, his broad chest rising and falling heavily, his obsidian eyes tracking my every movement with a starving, predatory intensity.
I make quick work of his belt, unzipping his slacks and pushing them down his powerful, heavily tattooed legs, taking his boxer briefs with them. He kicks them away, leaving himself completely bare to my gaze. He is fully, painfully aroused, thick and heavy with the adrenaline of the night.
I kick off my own trousers, leaving me in nothing but a scrap of black lace. I reach behind my back, unhooking the clasp of my bra, and let it drop to the floorboards.
Cassio groans, a deep, hoarse sound that vibrates in the quiet room. His left hand reaches out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. "Come here. Stop making me wait."
I crawl onto the bed, straddling his narrow hips. I carefully position my knees on either side of his thighs, making sure I don't put an ounce of pressure anywhere near his injured right side. The heat radiating off his skin is intoxicating.
I lean forward, bracing my hands on the mattress beside his head, and capture his mouth.
He kisses me back with a starving desperation. His tongue sweeps past my lips, tasting of smoke and mint and whiskey, demanding everything I have to give. I open to him entirely, letting him map the inside of my mouth while I slowly align myself over his hard length.
"Noemi," he breathes against my lips, his hips bucking upward instinctively.
"I've got you," I whisper.
I sink down, taking him inside me.
The stretch is full and agonizingly good. A sharp gasp tears from my throat as he fills me completely, hitting a spot deep inside that makes my spine bow. Cassio’s jaw locks tight, the cords of his neck straining as his left hand grips my waist, holding me firmly against him.
"Fuck," he hisses through his teeth, his eyes sliding shut as he absorbs the sensation. "You feel so goddamn good."
I set the pace, lifting myself up before slowly sinking back down, burying him to the hilt. The friction is a blazing inferno. I watch his face, watching the tight, controlled lines of the ruthless Don melt into something entirely unguarded. The man beneath me is just Cassio. My husband. The man who loves me enough to die for me.
