Page 85 of Be Still My Unbeating Heart

He felt a swelling in his briefs as De Luca undressed him, and he marveled at De Luca’s sudden confidence as he peeled away Bastian’s shirt, unzipped his trousers, and then tugged down Bastian’s white briefs, freeing his aching erection.

De Luca pulled back a fraction, breathless and smiling. Bastian stared into perfect blue eyes, darker than before, glinting with hunger. De Luca ran his fingers over the bruises on Bastian’s chest, bruises inflicted by Matteo’s gang when they attacked him in the piazzetta.

“They hurt you,” De Luca said.

“They’ll be gone by the morning.”

De Luca’s lips grazed the bruises. He kissed Bastian’s chest, kissing away the hurt, then he went to his knees. Bastian remembered the way he had looked when they were alone in the boat, the sense that De Luca was desperate to let go but resisting, and that expression was long gone now.

De Luca’s warm mouth around his cock made Bastian groan and push his hips forward, tugging at De Luca’s ears.

When they first met, he hadn’t expected to want every inch of De Luca like this. When De Luca came into his life, Bastian had noticed how beautiful he was, but he hadn’t expected to feel this way. He moaned with pleasure as De Luca’s tongue teased his cock, making it throb harder, the ache agonizing.

Bastian lifted De Luca up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his flat stomach and firm pecs. He loosened his belt and pulled down De Luca’s suit trousers, freeing his smooth, hard cock. He ran his hands over De Luca’s hips, down to skim the soft hair at his thighs, their erections throbbing against one another.

“Kiss me,amore.”

They kissed, and De Luca’s pulse pumped against Bastian’s lips. They maneuvered to the bed, De Luca sitting back against the headboard, his legs parted so that Bastian could crawl between them. Bastian took a moment to admire De Luca’s smooth olive skin, the lean muscles beneath, his cock twitching with excitement.

“You’re beautiful, darling. All that time you’ve been hiding behind the uniform.”

“Just come here,” De Luca said, and Bastian did as he was told.

Their bodies fitted together like they were made for one another. Bastian’s hands skimmed over De Luca’s soft skin as De Luca’s knees drew up and, finally, Bastian spat into his palm and then pushed himself inside, staring into De Luca’s eyes, watching his pupils dilate with pleasure. As Bastian thrust, gently at first,then with increasing urgency, De Luca’s heartbeat filled his ears. He felt it pump through his rib cage; through the parts of them that were connected.

He kissed De Luca again and again, tasting him, teasing him, savoring him, memorizing every part of him, and even though he knew it was impossible, knew there was no way it could be true, for just a moment, as De Luca’s heartbeat pulsed around him, Bastian was sure he felt his own heart emit a single joyful thump in response.

28

De Luca’s breathing was hypnotic.

Bastian lay and listened for a while, losing himself in the rhythm of soft inhales and exhales. The bedsheets were rumpled and warm, and Bastian felt both exhausted and wide awake. He couldn’t stop smiling. His skin hummed with life where De Luca had touched it, as if the inspector’s fingers and lips had left a shimmering mark.

Bastian wanted to lie there forever with De Luca naked beside him, his arm resting against Bastian’s side. He couldn’t help taking in every inch of the inspector, admiring his peaceful face, his long lashes, the way his arm was crooked under his head, causing his biceps to bulge.

He felt like he was falling, air rushing past his ears.

And he needed to pee.

Bastian cursed his bladder. He dressed in the dark, pulling on his torn shirt and trousers. At the door, he cast a glance back at De Luca, appreciating the moonlight picking out the curves of hislegs, his perfect ass, and his broad back. Then he slipped out onto the landing.

The house was quiet. Bastian found the bathroom and peed, then headed for the stairs. He should check on Whitby. No doubt she was still asleep in the kitchen, but he needed to be sure. He paused by a window to cast a look over Vernazza. From there, he could see most of the town, and it appeared much as it always had: Lights twinkling in the dark. No screaming or sirens. No fire spreading thick and ravenous through the streets. The Obliterati had not laid ruin to Vernazza. Perhaps Bastian had got through to them with his plea for the town to be left unharmed. Or perhaps the commissario had argued his own case.

Feeling a sense of peace at the thought that he had done some good, he was about to resume heading downstairs when he noticed a door ajar halfway down the landing. De Luca’s bedroom? No, it was the dooroppositeDe Luca’s.

Enzo’s room. The brother.

Bastian was sure the door had been closed a moment ago.

He went and peered into the room, hesitant to invade the man’s privacy but unable to contain his curiosity.

The bed was empty.

Bastian went into Enzo’s room, checking the floor, in case Enzo had fallen out of bed. But the floor was clear.

The peace that had settled over Bastian thinned. Became vapor.

De Luca had said his brother was bedbound, so where was he? He noticed pictures stuck to the wall by the bed. Photographs of people at happy occasions. One showed what appeared to be a younger Enzo laughing with a guy with long black hair. Bastian frowned at the photo, recognizing Matteo from Micio Micio. Enzo and Matteo were friends?