Page 101 of Flawed

"This isn't talking," she utters.

"Then talk. I'm listening," I state. My erection presses against her back.

"Luca—"

"There are ten years of things we can say to each other, but do you know what I think is the most important?" I ask and spin her into me.

She licks her lips and shakes her head. Her voice is softer, and she doesn't appear angry anymore, just sad. All her new expression does is deepen my determination to not fuck this up this time. "No. Tell me."

I drag my knuckles over her cheek then lips. I confess, "Years apart didn't suffocate the fire between us. It smoldered, never fully extinguishing. Now, there's fresh oxygen feeding it.”

She slowly shakes her head, but the same lust-filled, intoxicating expression I used to see in her appears.

"Don't try to deny it, stellina," I say.

"We're not the same people," she claims.

I lean closer and say, "No. We aren't. You're more beautiful than before. And I'm not looking for who we were. The past doesn't interest me, only the future."

She blinks hard but tears well in her eyes. She chokes out, "What future is that, Luca? Hmm?"

A decade of lost time swirls around us. And the hatred I feel toward myself intensifies. As much as I stated that the past doesn't interest me, I can't escape it.

What has my life been without her?

What could we have shared together?

How do I make up for choosing vengeance over a life with her when my situation isn't any different than before?

If anything, the need to kill Jacopo and take down the Abruzzos is stronger than ever. The depth of their destruction is worse than I ever could have imagined. I've seen their horror. At times, I've had to be part of it. And until they're destroyed, I'll never escape them to be able to protect Chanel from the barbarity.

I've spent my life deceiving the devil, and if the day ever comes and he finds out, there's no chance he'd not come after my stellina.

Her lips tremble, waiting for me to reply to a question she deserves an answer to. It tears me apart. There's no way I'll utter a promise I can't keep. What hurts worse is the way she's looking at me. It's as if she knows I can't deliver a transparent truth.

But she's here. After all these years, she's in front of me. And I can't let her go. Not now.

I may not know how to give her a future, but I can't stop taking what I want—what I've always needed.

My lips brush against hers as I reply, "We have the present, my darling stellina."

A lone tear slips down her cheek. The fight within her flares across her expression. She wants me, but she's trying to walk away.

Before she can, I press closer until she's against the window and my lips are on hers. She fists my shirt as if to stop me. Yet her tongue slips against mine, sparking a light I thought died when I lost her.

There are no more words to be spoken. No rationale we need to find. It's an unstoppable necessity for our existence that has to move forward. And damn the consequences.

Her fists relax. The tips of her fingers glide up my chest then dive through my hair. A tiny whimper fills the air, and it's better than I remember.

I drop my hands to her thighs, bunching the green material until her dress is at her waist. My palms grasp her ass. It's fuller, rounder than in the past, serving as another reminder about how much has changed.

But there are no strangers in the room. We're two people who mold together, seamlessly knowing exactly what the other needs.

It's tempting to fuck her right here, against the window.

I doubt she'd mind.

There's no way it would be anything but mind-blowing.

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