Page 79 of Last Hand

“Cara mia, Fallon,” Leone rasps, his voice raw, his face buried in my neck. “Sei cosi stretto,” (You’re so… tight.)

Milo grunts his agreement, his hips slamming into me with a force that makes my teeth clack. “Prendici, amore mio. Prendici tutti e due.” (Take us, my love. Take us both.)

I can’t speak. I can only feel. The grief is still there, a dark thought trying to rise, but it’s being battered, drowned out by the sheer intensity of this. This is oblivion. This is exactly what I craved.

My core clenches. The pleasure is coiling tighter and tighter, a burning knot low in my belly. Leone feels it, his thrusts becoming frantic. Milo feels it, his pace quickening, his fingers a torment.

“Vieni per noi, Fallon,” Leone commands. “Adesso.” (Come for us, Fallon. Now.)

And I do.

It’s not like before. This is a full-body detonation. A scream rips from my throat, as my orgasm crashes over me, wave after violent wave. My vision whites out. My body convulses around them, gripping them.

Leone groans, his own release flooding into me, hot and heavy. Milo follows a second later, his body going rigid as he pours himself into me, groaning against my ear.

We collapse. Or I do between them. They hold me up, their bodies slick with water, their breathing harsh. For a long moment, there’s only the sound of the shower and our ragged gasps.

“Better?” Leone asks and I nod, unable to form words. Better. Not fixed. For now the world has stopped spinning.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, they begin to withdraw. The emptiness they leave behind is a brutal reminder of what I’m trying to escape. I sag against them, my legs threatening to give out.

Leone catches me, his arm strong around my waist. Milo turns off the water, and the sudden silence is deafening. He reaches for a towel and wraps it around me.

Leone’s eyes search mine, a question in their dark depths. I don’t have an answer. I don’t know if this truly helped, or if itjust delayed the inevitable crash. Either way, right now, I don’t care as I let Leone scoop me up into his arms.

TWENTY

Fallon

I wake to a hand on my shoulder.

It’s gentle, but it yanks me straight out of sleep. My body jolts, heart jackhammering before I can even remember where I am. I twist under the blanket, breath caught in my throat, and my hand flies up as if to protect my hair as I wait for the fingers that usually woke me with a fistful of it. It’s instinct now. It shouldn’t be, yet still I brace for the pain that doesn’t come.

“Fallon,” Leone says, softly, his palm cups my cheek, his thumb stroking below my eye. “It’s me. You’re home. You’re safe.”

I blink at him, disoriented. Then I take in the room, the muted sunlight filtering through the curtains, the cool weight of the sheets over my legs, the lingering ache in every muscle. And the man in the corner, back turned, fussing with a giant bag, pulling out equipment and cords.

Dr. Stevens. My eyes widen not expecting to be woken for some impromptu doctor’s visit when I realize I’m naked beneath the blanket. Cold sweat coats my skin. I tug the sheet higher upover my chest, my heart thudding all over again for a completely different reason, wondering if I even want to know.

Leone sees the panic rising in my eyes and crouches beside the bed.

“Hey.” His voice is gravel. Tired. “It’s just Dr. Stevens. He needs to check you and the baby. Nothing’s wrong, we just want to be sure. You’re safe, Fallon.”

I nod, still clutching the blanket. Dr. Stevens turns then, and at least he has the grace to keep his gaze fixed somewhere above my head.

“Good morning, Fallon,” he says. “Sorry for the intrusion, I wanted to do this sooner rather than later.”

I nod again, unable to voice my words. My throat’s dry. My limbs feel like they’re underwater.

Leone reaches down, grabs the hem of his shirt, and tugs it off. “Here,” he says, holding it out. “Take this.”

I take it with shaking hands. It smells like him, cologne, sweat, cigarette smoke. It swallows me whole, hanging off my shoulders. When I look up again, he’s already digging through a drawer, tossing a pair of soft black track pants onto the bed.

I slide the pants on under the blanket, limbs stiff, like they don’t belong to me anymore. I sit up slowly. My head spins for a second, and I place a hand on the bed to steady myself.

Milo appears silently, settling into the chair beside the bed like he never left. His eyes are rimmed red, like he hasn’t slept, and his hair is a mess.

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything, even as Leone moves toward the balcony to peer out the window.

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