Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
He tucks me into the passenger seat of his car, then sinks to the ground next to me, taking each hand into his and looking over the abrasions from the ropes one by one. Then he takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning my face side to side, frowning at the blood on the right side of my face.
"Where else are you hurt?"
His voice is low and gruff, and I can see the rage simmering beneath the surface of his calm expression. He's barely holding onto his control, and I can't help but shiver. He's never been sexier than he is right now, protecting me, ready to destroy anyone who stands in his way.
"My head hurts," I admit, tears threatening to fall from my eyes, "and my wrists. But I'm okay."
He looks at me for a long moment, rises, and opens the driver's side door. "I'm taking you back to my apartment. I'll call the doctor we have on payroll, but you aren't leaving my fucking sight tonight, Emilia. Understand?"
I nod, knowing better than to argue with him when he's this wound up. The drive back to his place is short, but it feels like an eternity. He carries me up to the apartment, and I'm too tired to protest. By the time he lays me on his bed, I feel like I could sleep for a week.
"Don't leave me,” I plead when he stands, the idea of being alone in the dark suddenly overwhelming.
Alessandro pauses in the doorway, his hand on the light switch. "Never. I'm just going to let the doctor in.”
The doctor arrives within minutes, and after confirming that I’m not concussed and don’t need stitches, Sandro is visibly less tense. I drift off as he steps into the hall, lulled by the sound of his voice talking with the doctor.
The next thing I know, a pair of gentle hands lifts me up, and I force my eyes open to see Alessandro carrying me to the bathroom. He sets me on the counter and turns on the shower. When the water is warm enough, he helps me undress, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
There's dried blood crusted on the side of my face, and a huge purple bruise blooming on my jaw. I look like hell, but I don't care. All I want is to be close to Sandro.
He leads me under the spray of water, helping me wash away the blood and grime from the warehouse. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he carefully cleans my body. When we're both clean, he wraps me in a towel and carries me back to the bed.
I let him dress me in one of his T-shirts, then burrow against his chest, needing to feel him close. He holds me tight, kissing my forehead.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I should have protected you."
"It's not your fault." I shake my head. "You didn't know Marco was the one who betrayed Enzo."
"I should have known." He sounds pained. "I should have seen the signs."
"No one else did." I lift my head, looking into his eyes. "You couldn't have known. It isn't your fault."
He doesn't answer.
I sigh softly, resting my head on his chest again. "Can you just hold me? I need you."
Sandro does as I ask, and at first, it's perfect. Being in his arms is all I need at first, but as the tension winds down, it's replaced by a thrumming fear over what has happened to me today.
I'm alive, I keep telling myself. I'm alive.
And nothing makes me feel more alive than when Sandro is inside me.
I shift in his arms until I can press my lips to his, and he responds immediately, kissing me back with a hunger that takes my breath away. It's like a switch has been flipped, and now the only thing either of us can think about is getting closer.
His hands slide under the shirt I'm wearing, skimming up my sides until he finds my breasts. He teases my nipples, making me gasp. "Sandro..."
"Are you sure, tesoro?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Because if we start this, I'm not going to stop until I've fucked you senseless."
"Yes," I whisper, kissing him again. "Please, Sandro, I need you. I need to feel you."
He doesn't need any more encouragement. He rips the shirt off me in one swift move, baring my body to him. He groans at the sight, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his mouth sends shivers through me, and I moan.
Sandro kisses and sucks at my breasts until I'm trembling before he puts his hands on my hips and coaxes me into flipping over onto my knees, his palms moving to cup my asscheeks. I wiggle back into his touch, sucking in a breath when his questing fingers graze my back entrance.