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But I hold back, letting him adjust to the stretch and burn. I peppers his face with kisses, tasting the salt of his sweat and the sweetness of his breath. "You feel so good, Luca. So fucking perfect."
He whimpers, his hips rocking up to meet mine. "Please, Enzo. I need...I need..."
"Shh, I know. I've got you."
I start to move, a slow, deep rhythm that has him keening and thrashing beneath me. I angle my hips, searching for that spot inside him that will make him see stars. When I find it, he cries out, his back bowing off the bed in a perfect arch.
"There you are," I growl, my voice rough with satisfaction. "That's it, baby. Take it for me."
I set a punishing pace, driving into him with long, powerful strokes. The bed creaks and groans beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust. It's a primal, animalistic coupling, all grunts and sweat and the slap of skin on skin.
But beneath the raw physicality of it, there's a deeper connection. A meeting of hearts and souls, a recognition of the bond that ties us together. With every touch, every kiss, every whispered word, I'm claiming him as mine. And he's claiming me right back, his love a balm to the wounds on my battered soul.
I can feel my climax building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in my groin. I reach between us, taking Luca in hand and stroking him in time with my thrusts. He's close too, his breathing ragged and his body trembling.
"Come for me, amore," I command, my voice a low, feral growl. "I want to feel you fall apart."
He does, his release hitting him all at once. He clenches around me, his body spasming with the force of his orgasm. The sight of his pleasure, the sound of my name on his lips, is enough to send me over the edge.
I bury myself deep and let go, my world narrowing down to the hot clutch of his body and the white-hot pleasure coursing through my veins. I empty myself inside him, marking him, claiming him in the most primal way possible.
In the aftermath, I gather him close, our bodies tangled together in a mess of sweat-slick limbs and racing hearts. I bury my face in the curve of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. The scent of sex and love and something that feels dangerously like home.
"Ti amo," I whisper, the words tearing themselves from my throat. "Sei la mia anima gemella, Luca. My soulmate."
He lifts his head, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "I love you too, Enzo. More than anything."
We cling to each other as the world spins madly on, two lost souls finding shelter in the storm. I know that there will be hell to pay for this, that my uncle will rain down fire and brimstone on us both.
But in this moment, with Luca warm and soft in my arms, I can't bring myself to care. Let them come, with their guns and their threats and their cold, dead eyes.
I'll fight for this. For him, for us. Even if it means going to war with the only family I've ever known.
Even if it means painting the streets red with blood and bullets.
CHAPTER 6
LUCA
Iwake slowly, languorously, like a man surfacing from a deep, blissful dream. For a moment, I'm disoriented, my mind foggy with sleep and satiation. The bed beneath me is unfamiliar, the sheets softer than anything I've ever felt. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex and sweat and something else, something warm and spicy that makes my heart race.
And then it all comes rushing back. The safe house, the attack, the frantic aftermath. Enzo's blood on my hands, his life hanging by a thread. The desperate, aching need to save him, to keep him with me at all costs.
The way he looked at me, after. Like I was something precious, something worth fighting for. The way he touched me, with reverent hands and worshipful lips. The way he moved inside me, claiming me, branding me as his own.
I roll over, reaching for him, wanting to pull him close and lose myself in his warmth. But the bed beside me is empty, the sheets cool to the touch. I sit up, my heart lurching in my chest.
"Enzo?"
Silence greets me, heavy and oppressive. I scan the room, taking in the rumpled bed, the hastily discarded clothes. There's no sign of him, no trace of his presence save for the lingering scent of his skin on the pillows.
Fear claws at my throat, cold and sharp. Did I dream it all? The tenderness in his eyes, the passion in his touch? Was it just a fevered fantasy, a desperate attempt to find something good in the midst of all this darkness?
No. It was real. It has to be. I can still feel him inside me, still taste him on my tongue. He was here, with me, in this bed. He held me and kissed me and made love to me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
So where is he now?
I climb out of bed on shaky legs, wincing at the soreness in my muscles. I pull on my clothes, my hands trembling as I fumble with buttons and zippers. My mind is racing, my thoughts a tangled mess of worry and doubt.
