Page 43 of Sins of the Father
Mia’s thoughts blanked at the awful pressure stretching her apart. It hurt, but it was a good hurt. “Luciano…” she whispered, not sure if it was a plea or a surrender.
His hand slipped beneath her belly, caught her clit between his fingers, and pinched as he buried himself in her with a savage thrust. Mia’s climax broke from her in a wild, shaking cry, tears stinging her eyes at the sheer force of it. He moved inside her, heavy and solid, his hardness sliding deep inside her slickness, making her gasp. Mia cried out into the sheet as pleasure bloomed with each thrust. The rhythm built, stealing her breath, driving her higher and higher until she was again crying out beneath him, her body breaking apart in bliss.
Luc groaned her name, his movements harshening, more desperate. When release tore through him, he buried his face in her neck, his growl vibrating through her bones.
Afterward, he didn’t move away. He stayed inside her, his breath ragged, his body heavy but protective. One hand slid intoher hair, cradling her head, while the other stroked lazy patterns down her arm.
“You are mine,” he whispered again, softer now, almost tender.
And for the first time, Mia didn’t flinch at the claim.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mia woke sore but content, the ache in her body a tender reminder of the night before. Her muscles protested each small movement, yet the soreness felt intimate. Her skin still carried the ghost of his touch—the slide of his hands, the press of his mouth, the heat that had stolen her breath. Something had shifted inside her, humming quietly beneath her ribs, a dangerous awareness that last night had meant something. Not just to her, maybe to Luc too.
She wanted to believe that.
Half-tangled in the sheets, she reached for the new phone Luc had given her days ago and pressed call before she could talk herself out of it.
“Hullo?” Bianca’s familiar voice was small and hesitant.
“It’s me,” Mia whispered.
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Mia!” Her friend’s voice cracked before dissolving into tears. “I was so worried. You vanished.”
Mia smiled faintly. “I’m safe, I promise. I’m sorry to make you worry.”
In a rush of relief, she told Bianca everything—the contract, the marriage, the year she had promised to stay.
“So you’re married?” Bianca asked softly.
“Yes.”
“Has he been cruel?”
Mia hesitated, glancing at the closed bedroom door. “No. Not cruel. I can even see myself being happy for the year.”
Bianca’s tone softened. “And maybe more than a year?”
Mia laughed nervously, her throat tight. “I don’t know. He’s a mafia kingpin, Bee. He’s killed people. How could I ever want a life like this forever?”
“I understand,” Bianca said. “You can come to me when the year ends. I’ll always have a place for you.”
They talked for nearly an hour—about nothing and everything. The sound of Bianca’s voice grounded her, tethered her to the girl she used to be. When they finally said goodbye, Mia felt both lighter and lonelier.
She slipped from bed and stepped into the bathroom. Hot water poured over her, soothing sore muscles, washing away the remnants of sleep—but not the memory of Luc. His eyes, the heat of his touch, the way he had claimed her body and left something raw humming beneath her ribs… she could not scrub it away.
By the time she dressed in soft cotton shorts and a loose shirt, damp hair tied back, the light had shifted toward afternoon. The quiet hum of the house wrapped around her, yet beneath it, a restless pulse stirred in her chest. She descended the wide staircase, carrying both the serenity of the morning and the ghost of last night.
Gabriella’s delighted squeal broke the stillness. “Your wedding night must have been something! You slept past noon. We have brunch on the patio—come join us!”
Mia flushed but smiled as Gabriella looped her arm through hers and led her outside.
“Tonio has left,” Gabriella said, “that means more for us!”
Mia inhaled the fresh air. The patio overlooked the sea, a sweep of blue stretching endlessly to the horizon. White curtains billowed in the breeze, carrying the faint cries of gulls and the rhythmic crash of waves below. The scent of the ocean mingled with warm bread and citrus, filling the air with a delicious contentment.
A round table sat beneath a shaded pergola woven with climbing jasmine. Flaky croissants, warm rolls glistening with butter, smoked salmon, jewel-like fruit, and small delicate cakes tempted from silver trays. Slender carafes of orange juice and wine caught the sunlight in amber hues.
