Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I felt embarrassed, but I was more relieved than ashamed. A little PTSD from Enzo coming to the surface. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He extended his hand. “Give me your phone.”
I blinked several times before I reached for it in my purse and handed it over.
He grabbed his phone and put them side by side on the table.
I had no idea what he was about to do.
Then I watched him share his location with me and had my phone share my location with him.
He returned the phone to me. “Ready to go? I’m starving.”
“Yeah . . . me too.”
When we stepped into his corridor, I came to a halt.
“I’ll die if I walk any farther in these.” I bent down to undo the little straps on my stilettos. They were so cute, black, and sparkly, but god, they hurt like a bitch.
I was suddenly lifted off the floor, scooped into his arms like he was a caveman, and then he carried me down the hallway with my ass peeking out from underneath my dress. “That works too.”
He carried me into his bedroom. Medusa was already asleep on the couch, but she came over when he carried me inside. He didn’t stop to pay attention to her like he normally did. He took me to the edge of the bed and placed me on the mattress before he pulled my thong free.
Got right to the point.
He hooked my legs over his shoulders to prop them up as he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the floor. Then he undid his jeans and lowered his bottoms until they fell to his knees. His big hands adjusted me into position, and he sank into me, taking up all the space inside me as he moved farther in.
I gasped when he hit the end, when I felt the fullness no other man had ever given me.
His fingers moved around the back of my neck, and he gripped me as he started to thrust into me, quick and even, his eyes possessive and maniacal, like he was the one who’d seen an old hookup text my phone. He slipped his thumb into my mouth over my tongue while his other arm held my leg in place. “Why the fuck would I want anyone else when I have you?”
Chapter 8
Aurelia
When he stepped out of the shower, he got dressed in a hurry. “Free on Sunday?”
“I have a shoot in the morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“Sorry, what?”
“The pope is holding a special mass on Sunday. I want you to come with me.”
“You’re—you’re invited?”
“Yes.”
I thought only world leaders were invited to that sort of thing. “Uh . . . are you sure?”
“Am I sure I’m invited?” he asked with a slight smirk. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“No, are you sure you want me to come with you?”
“Of course.”
“What—what am I going to wear?”
“Stick to black and you’re set.”
I felt like I was about to burst with excitement and utter terror.
“Why are you so nervous?”
“Because it’s the fucking pope.”
He gave a laugh before he slipped on his watch and clasped it shut. “He’s human just like everyone else, sweetheart.”
“How do you know him again?”
“Well, one of my responsibilities is to protect him.”
“Doesn’t he have his own security team?”
“He does, but who do you think gives them intel?” he asked before he pulled on a T-shirt. “And who do you think is the reason people are too scared to fuck with him?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “And he’s also my uncle.”
“What?”
“Many, many times removed,” he said. “But that’s just how Roman families are . . . always connected.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Sweetheart, don’t overthink it. He knows what I do and he still likes me, so he’ll sure as hell like you.” He came to me and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to go. Come over Saturday night so we can leave for mass together in the morning.” He gave me a smack on the ass. “Bye, sweetheart.”
“Bye.”
I went shopping and found a modest black dress and a jacket to wear for mass. It went down to my ankles and was by far the most conservative outfit I’d ever bought. But the last thing I wanted to do was embarrass Constantine. I knew he preferred my dresses that barely covered anything, but this was probably more appropriate for mass on a religious holiday.
On Saturday night, I drove my motorbike over, and as always, he met me out front. He wore that boyish grin that always made me weak in the knees. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas . . . and I was the biggest present under the tree.
Even when Enzo and I were happy together, I wasn’t sure if he’d ever looked at me like that.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Constantine kissed me, then took my bag out of my hands. “Ever think about driving a car?”