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He remembered his own shock when he’d come to see Giovanni like he often had, sneaking into his bedroom, and heard the sounds of someone being aroused. It had been Giovanni, and the sound had been that broken and grateful sob, more shocking than the previous shouts of satisfaction he’d encountered. Nera had made the more familiar sounds, though Luka had never heard them from a woman. The pleasure shared between Giovanni and his new wife was a constant that held true. Nera touched him, and Giovanni touched Nera. His touch seemed to be what Nera needed most.
Without that, it would be like what Ivankov did to the men and women he forced his erections on.
And Luka never wanted to do that. He couldn’t prepare a woman to accept him, couldn’t let them use him to prepare themselves, and so any use of his erections would cause pain.
The reminder should have calmed his body. It should have made that male part of himself that he despised wither to nothing. Instead, Alina’s scent filled him with want. He realized his nose was buried in her hair, his arms holding her close despite the pain. He needed to let go of her, to create some distance.
His arms pulled her tighter against his chest. The move brushed her ass against his erection, an action that only made him harder.
Alina’s breathing had become faster. The door to the bathroom opened, and her chest pulled in a deeper breath to control it.
Luka tried to control his own racing heart as Giovanni and Nera dressed. Nera moved to the bed, remaking it as she did most mornings. If she turned just right, she would see them there. She didn’t. She rounded to the other side of the bed to finish pulling the blankets in place, and then she and Giovanni left the room together.
Luka’s arms dropped, and he started to create distance between him and Alina. Alina whirled, her lips finding his as her arms wrapped around him. Her kiss didn’t feel like Nera’s had looked. It was soft and gentle and sent more heat to his nearly weeping erection.
But where her hands touched him, he felt like knives stabbed into the skin. Worse than knives. Hot pokers with blunt, gouging edges.
It was a confusing mixture of sensations. It didn’t make his erection go away, but it hurt so goddamn much. He jerked his lips free. “Stop!” he cried, and it was almost a sob, nothing like the sound Giovanni had made.
Alina scrambled back, no longer touching him. Her face held a reflection of his feelings: panic and a stricken guilt. “Sorry. I’m sorry!” Her hands covered her face as she hunched into herself and began to cry.
Luka had no idea what to do. He would give anything to stop her from crying. Maybe he could endure the pain of her touch. It was the worst pain, worse than what Ivankov could do to him, but endurance was one of Luka’s skills.
His hand reached for her, curling around her wrist. He’d done it so often, the skittering pulse that ran through him didn’t stab at all. It was almost warm.
Alina’s head lifted. Her face, wet with tears, punched him in the gut. Then her eyes narrowed in a glare. “Stop confusing me.”
Luka’s throat constricted at the accusation in her eyes.
“You keep touching me!” she cried.
His gaze moved to where his fingers encircled her wrist through the gloves.
Her arm moved within his grasp. “This, stroking my face, even hugging me. You keep doing it, and I keep wanting more, but I know it hurts you. Sometimes I can’t help it, and I grab you anyway, even though I shouldn’t, like just now. The way you cried out, I hate that I do that to you.”
Luka frowned as he continued to stare at her wrist. Part of it was the gloves, and his shirt should have protected him as well, but when she touched him, the stabbing was too intense to ignore.
His other gloved hand lifted and cupped her face.
Her eyes slid shut as her breath shuddered from her. “You’re not being fair.”
He focused on touching her. There was pain, yes, but it was only slightly uncomfortable, and with it came the tingling that shot to his groin in a strange mixture that kept him hard. He swallowed. “Not as bad,” he admitted. “Touching you.”
Her eyes opened. “Wait, it doesn’t hurt as bad when you’re in control of the touching? Does that mean you can try to touch me more?”
His glove shifted, moving into her hair. He knew the gloves made it more possible in that moment, but he also stroked near her scalp while she slept. Without the gloves, her hair felt so silky against his bare fingers. The thought did nothing to dissuade his body’s interest in her. “You want me to?” he asked. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of trying.
“Yes. I want you to touch me all over.” She scrambled to her feet, her hands going to the hem of her shirt, or really to his shirt, which she still wore.
Luka tightened his hold on her wrist, stopping her. “Clothes on?” he asked, worry filling him as she hesitated, but then she nodded, releasing the hem.
He knew she wanted more. She wanted it all, for him to bury himself inside of her. But this was a test, and an extra layer would help.
He needed to see if he’d be able to make her want him. Not want him to hurt her, but actually desire him, the way Nera wanted Giovanni.
Alina surprised him by leading him to the bed. “Not on the floor. There was a mattress on the floor.”
He remembered the dirty mattress in the room where he had found her. The memory eased the ache in his groin.
