Page 32 of Flawed

Our chests press together, trying to find air. Neither of us breaks our gaze, and I don't know what to make of it. I start to panic, thinking he's going to roll off me, and I grip his hair tighter and pull him back to me, sliding my tongue back into his mouth.

He doesn't fight me, kissing me with a new fervor.

I pretzel my legs around him, aching to have him inside me again. I thrust my hips, but he grasps my hip and pins me to the bed, not allowing me to have him.

Yet his kisses continue to drown me into a delirious state where I'm wet, needy, and annihilated with zings ping-ponging in all my cells. The heat of our bodies grows, arousal swirls in the air, and whimpers fly out of me. It all adds to the excruciating anticipation.

Then he bestows a new, slow torture on me. He inches his hips back and forth over my clit, intoxicating me to the point I'm panting.

I whisper, "Don't stop. Faster. Oh God!"

My reward isn't an increase in his speed. He removes his hand from my hip and drags his knuckles up the curve of my waist until his palm cups my breast. Tingles explode under his touch, and his finger and thumb graze my nipple with barely any pressure.

I moan, blinking hard to stay focused, but adrenaline buzzes all around me, making it impossible. Tremors take hold of me, from my pussy, to my breasts, to my limbs entwined with his.

"Please," I beg, the dull edge of an orgasm cascading through every atom of my being, throbbing with a need for more so great, tears come to my eyes.

He maintains it all, keeping me humming and so in tune with my body that it could be his own. He breaks our kiss, leaning to my ear and murmuring so quietly, I almost don't hear him, "I wish I could have you."

I reply just as softly, "You do have me."

He buries his face in the curve of my neck, kissing, sucking, and gently biting while sliding his cock over me faster.

"Oh... oh..."

He presses his forehead to mine, his hot, broken breath slapping mine, drilling his globes of dark fire into my soul.

Every electrified sensation annihilates me, trying to propel me into an out-of-body experience—except that I'm fixated on Luca's potent gaze studying me as I explode into an earthquake underneath him.

I'm still trembling when he pushes inside me, giving me both sweet relief and a new onslaught of sensations. I widen my legs, trying to take as much of him as possible, even though I'm already full of his pulsating erection.

He groans, sliding his hand until his palm rests under my head and his fingers lace through my hair. He takes his other hand, pushes my right thigh higher, and then thrusts harder.

"Luca!" I cry out.

He locks eyes with me and says in Italian, "You're the woman I want to care for and love, stellina."

Tears fill my eyes. I tug his mouth to mine so he doesn't remember I'm fluent in Italian. I kiss through my tears and push the thought of Luca, our baby, and me together to the back of my mind.

He continues in Italian, mumbling through our kisses. "I'd only be good to you," and, "What I'd give for you to tell me you love me one day."

It cracks my heart. I don't doubt Luca would be good to me. He's been nothing but amazing. And this new information about his parents makes me question if I'm being judgmental and maybe even on the wrong side of a war that isn't mine.

His fiery tongue hits my ear as he says in English, "Tell me I make you feel good."

I answer, "You do, Luca. So good."

He nods against my cheek, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Then he murmurs in Italian, "I'm flawed, stellina. You deserve better."

I close my eyes, feeling the high of Luca's body in mine while fighting the debate about whether I could get past the fact that he's an Abruzzo or not. My heart wants him. It wants him for not only me but our baby. Yet my brain won't stop telling me I can't go down that road.

"Christ," he grunts. He slides his cock in and out of me so fast that a new wave of sweat pops out on my skin, and the earth shatters once more.

My voice cracks as I scream, "Luca!" I dig my nails into his shoulders and head, arching my quivering frame into his.

His deep groan fills the air. A violent tornado erupts in him, colliding with my own euphoric ecstasy.

It's as if our bodies feed off one another. Our highs don't die down right away, continuing to ricochet as our heady scent grows thicker and sounds of pleasure reverberate around us.

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