Page 44 of Flawed

His eyes widen. He glances down then back at me. "What are you talking about? You're gorgeous."

"My stomach—"

"Do you think I care about your weight?"

I close my eyes, trying not to cry. It's the perfect thing a man could say to a woman, which only makes our situation more painful.

"Chanel."

I open my eyes.

He slides his palm under my shirt and presses it to my stomach. His other one cups my cheek. He asserts, "You're perfect, stellina."

Emotions roll into my throat. I wonder if our baby can feel his hand. Then the vision of Luca holding her forms. I'm about to lose it, so I tug his head to me and slip my tongue back into his mouth.

Like everything Luca does, he seamlessly undresses me. My clothes hit the floor, and his lips trail down my body. A path of zings follows him until I'm buzzing with the rush I've only ever experienced from him.

My core sings when he plays with my breasts. He's gentler than I remember, yet every sensation is more potent.

Tears fill my eyes, and I wipe my cheek when he lingers on my stomach. I wonder again if he knows about the baby. Unable to take anymore, I push his head down.

He sweeps his arms under my thighs until they rest on his shoulders. His lips curl, and he pauses for a moment, locking his dark-fire gaze on me.

I caress the side of his head, catching my breath for a split second before his mouth slowly teases my pussy.

Tremors immediately erupt throughout me. Moans escape my lips.

Luca speeds up his rhythm, sliding a finger inside me, and a powerful high rushes to my head. White light blinds me. I grip his hair to steady myself, holding him to my body.

He grunts, curling his finger against my walls, sucking on my clit more forcefully.

"L-Luca!" I cry out.

He's relentless, showing me no mercy until I'm dripping with sweat and clutching my chest to the top of his head. He releases my legs, presses me against the wall, then rises.

Breathing hard, I whisper, "Luca."

"Shh," he says, then tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. He kisses me then picks me up, carrying me to the couch. He drops his pants, sits, then tugs me over him so I'm straddling him backward.

My body slides over his with relief, as if it's curing months of my cravings for him. His arms circle my waist. One hand cups my breast, pressing me to his chest. The other grips my hip, controlling the pace. His hot breath hits the curve of my neck before his lips do.

He murmurs in Italian, "Beautiful woman."

Bliss sheathes me as his cock shimmies against my walls. He slides his hand from my hip to my pussy, circling his thumb on my clit.

It's all too much. I'm overstimulated like never before. A hurricane of orgasms spins through me, absolving me from any thoughts about what we're doing and how it's wrong.

"Christ, you're better than I remember," he states, still speaking his mother tongue.

I turn my head, catching his eye, breathing hard and bending my arm so that I can palm his head.

He drowns me in his kisses, making me feel whole, which I haven't felt since the last time we were together.

He repositions his hand from my breast to my hip and increases the speed of our thrusts, creating a new explosion within me.

"Yes! Like... oh God! Like that, Luca!" I cry out.

He grunts then holds my face in front of his, intensely studying me as another orgasm rips through me.

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