Page 70 of The Ache That Stayed

“You wish.”

The words came out weaker than I intended.

My mind immediately supplied me images of us under that bridge. The heat. The proximity. The way every instinct had gone strangely quiet beneath that bridge. And judging by the look on Santino’s face—he knew it too.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. Stayed there.

A knot tightened low in my stomach. Suddenly my lips felt dry. I poked my tongue out and licked my lips without thinking.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

And before I could understand what was happening, his mouth crashed onto mine.

For a second my brain simply… stopped.

What the fuck!

My heart slammed violently against my ribs, a rush of blood coursing through my entire body so fast I thought I was about to pass out. Instinct told me to shove him away—to break the contact, to remind him who the hell he thought he was.

But instead my hips rolled into him before I could stop it. I squeezed my thighs, wanting some friction. His grip on my hand loosened and my hand found its way to his shirt—twisting, pulling him closer.

What the hell was I doing?

His mouth moved against mine again, teeth biting my lower lip, tongue licking at my lips, demanding entry. I opened my mouth to gasp for air and he took the chance immediately, his tongue sliding past my lips before I could stop him.

My thoughts scattered. This was wrong. I should push him away. I wanted to push him away. And yet my body… didn’t listen.

A traitorous warmth spread low in my stomach, sharp and shocking enough to make my breath hitch. Desire coiled low and mean where anger had been seconds ago. My hands moved of their own accord, sliding into his hair, gripping tight—fingers tangling in the shorter hair at the nape of his neck.

This only made him push deeper, demanding in a way that made my pulse spike.

He made a rough sound against my mouth—a sound so deep and guttural that it reverberated in my chest. He backed me onto the counter, hands squeezing my ass, mouth not separating from mine.

The next second he lifted me onto it, like I weighed nothing. The movement was quick, effortless. My thighs hit the cool stone and suddenly he was standing between my legs, one hand gripping my nape, the other sliding around to my back as he pulled me flush against him.

My thighs locked around him automatically without permission. The contact stole the breath from my lungs. The hard length of him pressed against my throbbing clit, and my body reacted instantly. Each slow grind pulled another helpless sound from my throat.

It didn’t feel new, which was the terrifying part. It felt familiar. As though we’d been moving towards it for years without ever speaking its name.

Every argument. Every look held too long. Every goodbye that lasted longer than it should have. All of it seemed to collide at once.

“You’re killing me, Volpi,” he groaned against my mouth.

The words moved through me like a melody. My head spun as the kiss deepened, messy and consuming and far more desperate than anything it should have been. His hand slid from my hip up my side, fingers tracing slowly until they reached my ribcage.

My stomach flipped with each thrust of his tongue.

My pulse hammered wildly in my throat. Every sensible thought I had seemed to unravel a little more.

My back arched. My breath broke. My body betrayed me again, answering him before my pride could.

I wanted to stop, but I wanted more.

It felt like my body recognised his hunger—the way years of restraint shattered in one moment—and some traitorous part of me wanted to be consumed too. And it felt as though he wasn’t the only one losing control. Something in me was answering him.

He yanked my ponytail suddenly, tilting my head back as his mouth moved from mine to the curve of my jaw. His mouth dragged over the pulse in my neck, biting and sucking, leaving fire in its wake. The sensation shot through me, sharp and disorienting. His other hand found my breast, palming and squeezing until I pressed further into his touch.

The sound I made was rough, almost desperate, and it only made him squeeze harder. I felt his cock twitch through his jeans.