Page 65 of Dario DeLuca

"That's it, Bella," he encourages, tenderly touching my face. "Let go for me."

With a final thrust, I shatter beneath him, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. He follows close behind as we climax in unison, our bodies arching off each other with unbridled desire.

Sweat glistens on our skin under the dim light from the cityscape outside. I feel him shudder before collapsing onto me with a groan of satisfaction. His weight grounds me like an anchor.

He rolls off me and then pulls me close so that my back is pressed against his chest. We lay like this for a while, listening to each other’s breathing and the rhythmic beating of our hearts.

It seems we stay like this for an eternity, melding together as if we were made for this moment. Wanting to see him, I turn around so we are face to face.

The soft hum of the city at dawn creeps through the curtains, a murmur against the quiet of the room. Dario's arm, a steady weight over my waist, holds me close. I trace the line of his jaw,rough with the promise of a coming beard, then trail my hand to his chest, and his body seems to relax beneath my touch.

"Never knew a touch could speak until you," he murmurs, his voice gravel mixed with velvet as his hand finds mine under the covers.

"Words are overrated," I whisper back, his heartbeat echoing against my palm.

He laughs.

"In that case, we should conserve them," he suggests, tilting his head to capture my lips with his, a slow, lingering kiss that tells me more than any grand speech ever could.

My fingers dance across the map of his tattoos. "Your skin's like a canvas. Every inked line is a tale begging to be read."

He catches my hand and presses it to his lips.

"And you read me well, Mia. Better than anyone."

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the thrum of life within him. "You're a mystery, and I want to spend a lifetime solving it.”

He tightens his hold. "A lifetime's what I'm aiming for."

The light sneaks in, golden and bold, casting a mosaic across his skin. His fingers trace idle patterns along my spine, sending shivers that spark tiny wildfires within me.

"Tell me," I begin, pausing to breathe in his scent, "what does the morning look like to you?"

He ponders, a crease forming between his brows. "It's like the first page of a book. Full of potential, untold stories… with you, it's a story I want to get lost in."

"And the night?" I prod, curious about the shadows that sometimes dance in his eyes.

"The night," he says, pulling me closer, "is when I fight my demons. But now, with you, I find my peace." He brushes my sweat-drenched hair from my face. "Now rest, Bella."

The dawn shifts, the light growing stronger, but the world outside holds no sway. I find a haven in Dario’s arms, our whispers the only testament to the night's confessions.

"We've got a fight ahead of us," he says after a moment, his eyes meeting mine with a steely resolve.

I nod. "We'll face it together."

The silence that follows is not empty. So much is said without the need for words. As the first rays of the sun crown the horizon, we stay intertwined.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask softly, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it aloud.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," Dario replies with another kiss.

Then he reaches between us to cup my breast, his fingers grazing my nipple roughly—my skin tingles in response, a soft moan escaping at the sensation. I know with absolute certainty that this moment—this union of our bodies and souls—will forever alter the course of our lives.

And I am ready to surrender myself entirely to the intoxicating pull of Dario DeLuca.

TWENTY-SEVEN

DARIO

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