Chapter 222: New Claim
- LUCIANO -
When I first saw her in Dex’s driveway, I knew Rory was fierce. The disdain and annoyance and sarcasm were enough to know that raging, passionate emotions course through her veins. But I never would have guessed that night I met her would lead to this.
Rory is no longer just that fierce, strong-willed woman I was attracted to. Getting to know her has changed the way I perceive her, and as much as it would have been good to kiss her at any point, there is no way it would have been as all-consuming as this.
Kissing Rory is like touching the source of her strength and her vulnerability all at once. She offers me both, and it makes waves of wild need crash over me with every dip into her mouth, every roll of our tongues entangling. The soft and fierce crash over each other in a frenzy of heat that blazes through every inch of my body.
Has she ever kissed anyone else like this before? Like she’s offering the most vulnerable parts of herself and trying to punish them for it at the very same time?
Don’t hurt her, dipshit. The reminder courses through me when all thoughts threaten to fall away.
My hand relaxes from where it is tangled in her hair, demanding in its urgency to angle her for me. But I can’t reel myself in from this sinful, heavenly mouth. She tastes exquisite, so much better than I imagined. She’s all silk and fire, soothing and scalding in equal measure.
When I finally try to slow and break from her, tugging her bottom lip with my teeth, she whimpers.
"Luci..." Her fingers are tangled in my shirt, gripping me close.
"Yes, Rory?" I whisper against her lips.
"Why me? I need to know."
"I’m not sure I had a choice in the matter," I chuckle softly, my hand at her hip skating up under the shirt and over the skin of her lower back. There’s a raised area of scar tissue where my fingers linger and trace, discovering it runs horizontally without any apparent end.
She shivers and backs out of my hold, and my heart breaks realizing that this is a physical reminder of whoever hurt her. With hands balling into brief fists, that’s the moment I decide to find out who the fuck did it. I don’t care how long ago it may have been, that fucker who branded himself permanently into her skin just rose right to the top of my hit list.
A haunted look flickers across her face before it’s replaced with anger and determination. She steps closer again, reaching for my shirt and running her hands up the front. This time it’s my turn to shiver. Rough edges from the stitches glide against my abdomen, contrasting with the softness of her touch.
"It’s your darkness," I tell her honestly, surprised when my breath sounds shaky. "You’re so strong and so fucking beautiful. I love the fight in you. These things you’ve been through... they’ve only made you stronger. You can do anything, Rory. I see it. You’re a warrior."
Her chest inflates before she blows out a breath, leaning her head against my chest and wrapping her arms around my back. "I don’t feel strong, Luci."
"You are," I say, kissing her head, returning her embrace. "Every inch of you is armored, and I want so badly to stand at your side and help you fight the world."
My lips rest against her hair as we hold each other and I try to imagine how this is going to work—how this moves forward. All I know is that it feels right finally having her in my arms.
"You’re all I can think about," I admit softly. "Every minute of the day. I’m haunted by you, tesoro."
"What is tesoro?" Her voice is muffled, and she pulls back to find my eyes.
I reach up, running my hands through her hair. "Treasure."
Her eyebrows pinch in a wounded way, but she doesn’t comment on whatever emotions seem to overwhelm her.
"And what did it mean?" She asks instead. "What you said at lunch?"
I press my lips together, a tight smile threatening. I know it’s too soon, so I can’t be sure how she will react. But she said no secrets, and I have no desire to keep any from her.
There is freedom here in this space between us—the freedom of unrestrained honesty when the rest of my life is shrouded in secrecy. I want this woman to know me. I want her to know all of it.
"It means I’m a goner, Rory. I fell hard for you. Like a sweet, baked pear," I chuckle, and her eyes widen in surprise. "Splat. Right on the floor. There’s no coming back from it."
She watches me like she’s waiting for the punchline. This isn’t what she expected.
"I’ll wait, dolcezza. For as long as it takes. As long as you let me keep you safe, I’ll wait. But I know that keeping you safe is what I’m meant to do."
She stands on her tiptoes, hand fisting into my shirt to pull me down. Her tongue licks at the seam of my lips, and the bolts of sensation go south like lightning preparing to split me open.
This woman is going to be the death of me. She’s already broken my heart open with a force unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I’m certain her tongue can create all kinds of delicious torture.
"And what is dolcezza?" She whispers against my lips, poised with the seduction of her mouth just a breath away.
I clear my throat, checking to see if my voice is still there. "Sweetheart."
- RORY -
Treasure. Sweetheart. He fell for me.
I pull Luci toward my lips, eager for another taste of the power in that kiss. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. The hungry way he dips into me... it’s like the world is ending and he’s ready to die right here, with everything else left behind but us.
"I want you," I tell him, lifting his shirt until he takes over and pulls it off, tossing it to the side.
God, his body. It’s beautiful. And it’s definitely a weapon. Every muscle is cut perfectly.
Luci lets me stare at him, lets my hands explore, lingering on the scars over his ribs. He has another jagged scar right above his hip. There are painful stories etched into his body with each of these marks just like my own, but he doesn’t shy away from my touch. They don’t haunt him anymore. Maybe they never did.
He watches me carefully as he reaches for the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. Then he’s sliding it up, pulling it off, studying me with his eyes and his hands just as I am him.
My skin pebbles with goosebumps as his hands glide over my arms and then tease the swell of my breasts. I realize I’m holding my breath when he tips my chin up so that I’ll meet his eyes.
"Do you feel safe with me?" He asks, searching me for the answer.
"Yes."
"If I ever do anything you don’t like..."
"You’ll know," I say, gasping softly when his hand finds the scar on my back again.
His palm flattens over it in almost a possessive way and then runs its length. The scar I try to forget about. The one blessing is that I can’t ever see it unless I really try.
"Can I see?" He asks gently, but I hear something else. Something dangerous he’s trying to contain.
I hope he doesn’t ask for details. The thought of having to explain, of having to relive it aloud, makes me start to tremble. Those memories are things I’ve buried deep until recently, but something is happening between Luciano and I that I can’t hide from. If he asks, it’s because I’m supposed to tell him.
My teeth clamp down on my trembling lip as I turn and show him my back. He kisses my neck and makes a trail of soft kisses all the way down to the base of my spine. All the while his hands are trailing down my sides until they stop, grasping my hips as he observes the scar.
What I don’t expect is to feel his teeth. He bites and rolls his tongue across the raised skin, making me gasp in surprise. It sends a flood of warmth pooling between my legs.
"Luci," I gasp when he does it again, stealing my breath.
Over and over, his teeth and tongue work on laying a new claim all along the path of that scar while his hand is wrapped around, flat against my stomach to brace me against the onslaught of his mouth. By the time he’s finished, I’m a trembling mess for an entirely different reason. I’m not sure how my legs are still holding up.
As if sensing this, he lifts me in his arms and lays me on the bed. I want his mouth to keep going—to claim the rest. But he pauses, bracing himself on an arm to study me while his hand draws paths over my stomach.
"I want you to know something," he says, leaning to kiss my forehead.
"What?" I shiver when his hand dips just below the waistband of my underwear, and he smiles, one eyebrow lifting.
He’s memorizing every sensitive spot, I realize. I’m going to have to do the same to him. We’ll see how he likes it when I’m making him a squirming, trembling mess.
"I’m going to erase the memory of every man who has been here before, Lorelei, until there is only me. Pleasure or pain... I’m going to take it all and replace it with my own. My touch. My teeth. My lips. Mine. Every inch will be mine and only mine until there are only memories of me on your skin. No one else. Do you understand?"
Holy. Fuck.
I swallow and nod, arching into his touch when it does another pass down the center of my stomach.
"Promise?"
