Page 19 of His Nephew's Ex
But wanting her and deserving her are two different things, and I’ve never been a man who lets deserve dictate my actions.
The street outside Crimson is quiet at this hour, the bar’s neon sign dark behind boarded windows that remind me why she sought my protection in the first place. My nephew’s harassmentcampaign ended with a single conversation that left Flavio enlightened about the consequences of touching what belongs to me now.
I should leave. Should drive home and content myself with the knowledge that she’s safe, and that my intervention solved her problems without dragging her deeper into my world. Instead, I find myself climbing the stairs to her apartment, my footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway like a death knell for my better judgment.
I pause outside her door, hand raised to knock, but suddenly unsure. What am I doing here? What do I expect from this woman who challenges everything I believed about desire, need, and the careful control I’ve maintained for decades?
The door opens before I can decide whether to knock or turn around. And she’s suddenly standing before me with her hair tumbling around her shoulders, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that ends at mid-thigh, exposing legs that make my mouth water with hunger I’ve been denying for too long.
“I wondered when you’d show up,” she says quietly, not moving aside to let me in but not closing the door either.
“Did you?” I study her face, looking for signs of fear or regret, finding instead a heat that mirrors my own obsession.
“Clay mentioned seeing your car circling the block three times last Tuesday. Tiziano was in here for coffee yesterday, askingmy girls if everything was quiet.” Her smile is sharp, knowing. “You’ve been watching me.”
“I’ve been protecting you.”
“Is that what this is?” She steps closer, close enough that I can smell her shampoo, see the pulse hammering in her throat. “Protection?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
The question hangs between us, sharp like a knife. I could lie, could pretend this is just a safety call. But we both know that would be bullshit of the highest order.
“You know why I’m here,stellina.”
“Say it anyway.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but the challenge in it makes my blood heat. “I want to hear you admit what this is.”
“I’m here because you belong to me now.” The declaration tastes like power and victory in equal measure. “You’ve been haunting my thoughts for weeks, and I’m tired of not claiming what I want above anything else.”
She bites her lip. “Do you want to come in?”
I should be a gentleman for once in my fucking life and say no. Should walk away and let her find some nice, normal man who works in an office and comes home to her every night without blood on his hands. Some man who deserves the gift of her innocence, her trust, her heart.
“Are you sure?” I ask instead, giving her one last chance to preserve whatever illusions she has left.
“Are you?”
“I’m sure that if I cross that threshold, there’s no going back.” My voice drops to that whisper that makes her pupils dilate. “I’m sure that if I get in, I won’t be able to leave you untouched. And I’m sure that once I have you, it quite possibly won’t be the last time.”
For a heartbeat, she wavers, and I see the smart, sensible woman warring with the passionate creature I’ve awakened. Then her hand comes up, fisting in my tie with decisive force.
“Good,” she breathes, and pulls me into her apartment. “Because I don’t think one taste of you will be enough to satisfy this hunger.”
The door slams shut behind us as she drags me down for a kiss that tastes like desperation and promises I’m not sure either of us should be making. Her mouth is hungry, demanding, everything I remembered and more. When her teeth catch my lower lip, I groan against her mouth and press her back against the door with enough force to rattle the frame.
“Stellina,” I growl, but the protest dies when she wraps one leg around my hip, bringing the heat between her thighs against my rapidly hardening length.
“Don’t you dare stop,” she pants against my mouth. “I’m sick and tired of waiting for boys. Show me what it means to be with a real man.”
The demand breaks the last of my control. I hoist her up, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carry her deeper into the apartment, our mouths never separating, our hands desperate and grasping.
I take a wrong turn to the bathroom instead of the bedroom and curse against her lips as I backtrack, earning a breathless laugh that makes my cock twitch in excitement.
“Kitchen,” she gasps as I turn the wrong way again, and I realize I’m so drunk on the taste of her that I can’t think straight, can’t navigate her small apartment without her guidance.
Finally, finally, we reach her bedroom, and I set her down beside the bed with hands that shake like I’m a fucking teenager instead of a man who’s killed more people than he can count.
