Page 35 of Unworthy Ties
He kissed down my stomach, his stubble scratching lightly against my skin as he reached the waistband of my panties. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured against my core.
“I’m fine,” I managed to whisper, even though I wasn’t at all. But he didn’t listen. Instead, his rough fingers slid inside me. I gasped at the feeling of being so full and yet so empty simultaneously—his fingers felt amazing, but I needed more.
“Rocco,” I whimpered, wrapping my legs around him. “Need you.”
His lips curved against my inner thigh—a dark promise wrapped in velvet. “You think I don’t know what you need?” The words vibrated through my bones as he dragged his tongue along the lace edge of my panties. “You think I haven’t memorized every gasp? Every shiver?”
The fabric tore beneath his teeth. Cold air kissed my exposed flesh an instant before his mouth did. My back arched off the mattress, hands fisting in his hair as he licked into me with the devotion of a man starved. Every flick of his tongue carved another piece of my soul away—not stolen, but given freely.
When I shattered, he drank my cries like communion wine.
He didn’t pull away when the tremors subsided. Instead, he crawled up my body like a prayer, cradling my face between hands that had ended lives but now trembled with restraint. Moonlight caught the silver scar on his torso—a flaw that made him more real than any of the dangerous fantasies I’d built around him.
“Look at me.” The command softened when my lashes fluttered open. His thumb traced the swell of my bottom lip, still damp from his kisses. “This,” he pressed his forehead to mine, our breaths mingling in the charged air, “isn’t about claiming territory. Isn’t business.”
The confession hovered between us, fragile as the first frost. I watched his throat work around words he’d clearly never spoken. His palm slid down to cover my racing heart.
The admission cracked something open in my chest. I reached for the scar I’d always been hesitant to trace, fingertips skating over raised flesh that told stories his lips never would. His breath hitched when I kissed it—a benediction, an absolution.
We moved together like storm waves meeting shore, desperate and inevitable. His thrusts carried a reverence that made my eyes burn, each slow roll of his hips whispering secrets in a language only our bodies understood. When I came again, it waswith his name caught between my teeth and tears of pleasure hot on my tongue.
Afterward, he didn’t retreat to his side of the bed. Instead, he gathered me against him like something precious, his lips moving silently against my hair as dawn painted gold along the horizon.
And for the first time since the gunshots, I believed in something more than bloodstains.
Rocco paced around the penthouse in circles. His brows were furrowed and although he probably thought I couldn’t, I could hear him muttering under his breath. He looked far too uncomfortable for the task that was actually at hand.
“Felix is just taking me to the mall,” I said. “I’ve got to pick up a dress for the party.”
The party I was referring to was the Salvaggio’s annual charity gala, a glittering facade that laundered blood money through silent auctions and champagne toasts. The kind of event where senators shook hands with killers and nobody asked too many questions about the donations.
“Yeah, I know. I just wish there was someone else available.” He walked to the window and I heard him say something along the lines of, “Even that idiot Dino.”
My feelings for Felix were in the past, but I knew no matter how I communicated that to Rocco it wouldn’t go through. Something twisted in my gut as I watched Rocco’s reflection in the window glass, his shoulders tense beneath his tailored shirt. The morning light carved harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the darkness beneath his eyes.
I couldn’t blame him, though. It had been ten years of him watching me chase after his brother, and old wounds didn’t heal just because we’d shared whispered confessions in the dark. Thetaste of his devotion still lingered on my lips, but daylight had a way of making promises feel fragile, breakable.
The sound of expensive leather shoes against marble announced Felix’s arrival before the elevator even dinged. I smoothed my hands down my jeans, hating how my pulse quickened—not from attraction, but from the nauseating cocktail of guilt and confusion that Felix always brought with him now.
“Ready, Gabriella?” Felix’s voice carried that same easy charm that had once made my teenage heart flutter. Now it just made my stomach clench. He looked immaculate as always—pressed slacks, designer watch catching the light, hair styled with the kind of casual perfection that took an hour to achieve.
Rocco’s jaw ticked as he looked at Felix. “I just have some…business to take care of. I’ll call you if I’m done early.”
I nodded, catching the weight behind Rocco’s words. “Business” meant something entirely different now that I’d seen the blood-soaked aftermath of what that entailed.
The air between the brothers crackled with unspoken tension. Felix’s smile never reached his eyes as he extended his arm toward the elevator with exaggerated courtesy. “Shall we, then?”
A ball of guilt formed in the pit of my stomach. I hated that I had caused a rift between the brothers, although most of it was from Rocco’s own insecurities rather than anything real. Felix had been nothing but a gentleman since that night, keeping his distance, treating me with the same brotherly affection he’d always shown. But Rocco saw threats in shadows, heard confessions in casual conversation.
Rocco caught my wrist before I could pass him, pulling me into his chest. His kiss was possessive, deliberate—a message not meant for me. I felt myself flush as his teeth grazed my bottom lip.
When he finally released me, my breath came in shallow gasps. Felix cleared his throat behind us, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him—couldn’t bear to see whatever expression he wore.
“He’s marking his territory,” Felix said as the elevator doors shut behind us.
His voice held no bitterness, just a clinical observation that made me feel like an object being appraised. I stared at my reflection in the polished elevator doors, watching the numbers descend.
“It’s not like that,” I said, though the lingering heat of Rocco’s lips suggested otherwise.
