Shadow Rider
Page 75
She shook her head. “Stefano, you’re making me sound far better than I am.”
“I knew what kind of woman I wanted in my life, for the mother of my children, and when I saw all those things in you, I knew. I knew it was you. Not to mention, the chemistry between us is off the charts. I think I mentioned to you that I like to fuck. I do. A lot. I came off a job and needed a woman desperately. I couldn’t get relief because suddenly no other woman would do but you. There’s only you for me. You’re the woman I want under my body. You’re the woman I want to see coming apart when I take you. I want to be with you in every way a man can be with his woman.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“A little trust, bambina.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I know what I’m doing, and I’ll make certain it’s always good for you.”
“What about being good for you? That’s important to me, Stefano,” she confessed.
He went still, his blue eyes darkening, intense, moving over her face with that raw possession and something else she couldn’t quite name. “There it is,” he said softly. “The reason I want you with every fucking breath I take.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stefano’s fingers tightened on the nape of Francesca’s neck and he bent his head slowly toward hers. He needed her mouth. The taste of her. No matter what she said, no matter that he’d acted as if he was giving her a chance to get away from him, he knew better. He knew she was already lost. His. He’d never thought he’d really have a chance at finding a woman of his own, one he could love and center his world around, one who would accept him and his fucked-up life, but now that she’d stepped into his world, he knew he wasn’t about to let her go.
She should have pulled away from him. He’d told her the truth about himself and hinted at his world. He’d let her know exactly what she had to look forward to with him. She should have tried again to make her escape, but instead, she lifted her face to his. Offered herself. Her eyelids drifted down, covering that sexy, slumberous look that sent scorching arrows igniting the blood in his veins.
He took her mouth. Ruthless. Merciless. A little savage even. Hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. Her lips were soft, parting for him instantly on his demand, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her sweet, sweet mouth. Instantly his blood rushed hotly through his veins to pool low. Brutal. He devoured her. Taking everything he could get from her and demanding more. He would never get enough of her, of the way she kissed him. Giving to him. Giving him everything. She didn’t know what she was offering him. Trust. Absolute trust. Her body went boneless, melting into his, her mouth moving under the assault of his.
It didn’t matter that he was wild. Rough. That he was allowing the kiss to spin out of control. She just gave and gave to him. That got to him as nothing else could have. She didn’t think she had anything to offer him. He got that. She had no money, no family, nothing at all in her eyes. Yet she gave him everything because she gave him this magnificent gift—her and her trust, when she had no reason to trust anyone, least of all him.
He had never had a woman who didn’t want something from him. He knew the score and he was all right with that. Francesca was . . . extraordinary. A gift. A miracle. She just gave herself to him. He was connected to her through their shadows and he knew how she felt. Frightened, bordering on terror. Still, he mattered to her. She saw him, not the Stefano the rest of the world saw, but the man inside who needed. Who didn’t want to stand alone. She gave herself to that man. And God help him, he wasn’t ever going to let her go, so he had to do this right. He had to give the best he could, certainly not ripping her clothes off and taking her the way his body demanded.
He drew back before it was too late, before he took her right there in the hallway on the floor. Before the roaring in his head became too loud and the need in his body took away every ounce of sense he had. Dimly, he heard the ping of the elevator and instantly, even with his body on fire and his cock so damned hard and full he was afraid he might burst, he turned, blocking Francesca’s body with his own, dragging his gun from his shoulder holster and tracking the elevator doors through the archway.
Ricco stepped into the foyer, followed by his other brothers, all of them, and his New York cousins. They looked grim. Determined. The truth was, he wasn’t surprised to see them. He knew why they were there. Francesca represented hope to them. Already, knowing that he was claiming her, she was family to them. They took family seriously. They wanted to know what had her spooked, why she would think she had to run. More, why she would think she had to protect Stefano. He also knew that if they believed he was in danger, they would pull out all stops to ensure his safety as well as Francesca’s. Any other time he would have been glad to see them, but the timing was poor.
“I knew what kind of woman I wanted in my life, for the mother of my children, and when I saw all those things in you, I knew. I knew it was you. Not to mention, the chemistry between us is off the charts. I think I mentioned to you that I like to fuck. I do. A lot. I came off a job and needed a woman desperately. I couldn’t get relief because suddenly no other woman would do but you. There’s only you for me. You’re the woman I want under my body. You’re the woman I want to see coming apart when I take you. I want to be with you in every way a man can be with his woman.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“A little trust, bambina.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I know what I’m doing, and I’ll make certain it’s always good for you.”
“What about being good for you? That’s important to me, Stefano,” she confessed.
He went still, his blue eyes darkening, intense, moving over her face with that raw possession and something else she couldn’t quite name. “There it is,” he said softly. “The reason I want you with every fucking breath I take.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Stefano’s fingers tightened on the nape of Francesca’s neck and he bent his head slowly toward hers. He needed her mouth. The taste of her. No matter what she said, no matter that he’d acted as if he was giving her a chance to get away from him, he knew better. He knew she was already lost. His. He’d never thought he’d really have a chance at finding a woman of his own, one he could love and center his world around, one who would accept him and his fucked-up life, but now that she’d stepped into his world, he knew he wasn’t about to let her go.
She should have pulled away from him. He’d told her the truth about himself and hinted at his world. He’d let her know exactly what she had to look forward to with him. She should have tried again to make her escape, but instead, she lifted her face to his. Offered herself. Her eyelids drifted down, covering that sexy, slumberous look that sent scorching arrows igniting the blood in his veins.
He took her mouth. Ruthless. Merciless. A little savage even. Hungrier than he’d ever been in his life. Her lips were soft, parting for him instantly on his demand, and his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her sweet, sweet mouth. Instantly his blood rushed hotly through his veins to pool low. Brutal. He devoured her. Taking everything he could get from her and demanding more. He would never get enough of her, of the way she kissed him. Giving to him. Giving him everything. She didn’t know what she was offering him. Trust. Absolute trust. Her body went boneless, melting into his, her mouth moving under the assault of his.
It didn’t matter that he was wild. Rough. That he was allowing the kiss to spin out of control. She just gave and gave to him. That got to him as nothing else could have. She didn’t think she had anything to offer him. He got that. She had no money, no family, nothing at all in her eyes. Yet she gave him everything because she gave him this magnificent gift—her and her trust, when she had no reason to trust anyone, least of all him.
He had never had a woman who didn’t want something from him. He knew the score and he was all right with that. Francesca was . . . extraordinary. A gift. A miracle. She just gave herself to him. He was connected to her through their shadows and he knew how she felt. Frightened, bordering on terror. Still, he mattered to her. She saw him, not the Stefano the rest of the world saw, but the man inside who needed. Who didn’t want to stand alone. She gave herself to that man. And God help him, he wasn’t ever going to let her go, so he had to do this right. He had to give the best he could, certainly not ripping her clothes off and taking her the way his body demanded.
He drew back before it was too late, before he took her right there in the hallway on the floor. Before the roaring in his head became too loud and the need in his body took away every ounce of sense he had. Dimly, he heard the ping of the elevator and instantly, even with his body on fire and his cock so damned hard and full he was afraid he might burst, he turned, blocking Francesca’s body with his own, dragging his gun from his shoulder holster and tracking the elevator doors through the archway.
Ricco stepped into the foyer, followed by his other brothers, all of them, and his New York cousins. They looked grim. Determined. The truth was, he wasn’t surprised to see them. He knew why they were there. Francesca represented hope to them. Already, knowing that he was claiming her, she was family to them. They took family seriously. They wanted to know what had her spooked, why she would think she had to run. More, why she would think she had to protect Stefano. He also knew that if they believed he was in danger, they would pull out all stops to ensure his safety as well as Francesca’s. Any other time he would have been glad to see them, but the timing was poor.
