Honor (Made Book 1)

by Melissa Ellen

  “I already told you, neither of us are coming until I’m inside you.”

  “You’re a greedy bastard,” I grumbled, beyond exasperated.

  “And you love me.”

  “I hate you,” I lied.

  Without warning, he thrusted inside me for my quip. My back arched with the delicious pain. I clung to his biceps, encouraging him to move, anxious to chase my orgasm once again. He held firm. Not moving an inch.

  “Say it, bella,” his silky voice coaxed.

  “Fuck me, Mario.”

  His lips twitched with amusement, the humor dancing in his eyes. “Not that, sweetheart.”

  “Mario,” I huffed. “You already know.”

  “Say it.”

  “Please,” I begged, unashamed.

  “Say it,” he whispered, dotting kisses along my collarbone.

  “Ugh!” I yelled, slamming my fist against the mattress. “I love you! Now, fuck me!”

  He grinned against my heated skin, his hips pulling back and then slowly sliding forward. “No, baby. We aren’t fucking this time.”

  My eyes shut, rolling back in my head, my breath coming harder as his pace steadily increased. I wasn’t going to argue. As long as he never stopped, he could call it whatever he wanted.

  I ran my hands over his back, his skin warm and tense under my touch. He continued to pump into me, each one more furious. I met his intensity with every thrust, the sensation building.

  He cupped my breast, squeezing. “Open your eyes.” The demanding, guttural tone swept through me.

  I opened my eyes, finding his smoldering and glazing over. The vision was beautiful and erotic as I watched him chase his own pleasure, face strained, muscles tight. I raked my nails down his back, grabbed his firm ass, and encouraged him to go harder, deeper, faster.

  He wedged a hand between us, his thumb against my clit. Heat quickly spread through every limb like an intense, rolling wave. My muscles contracted as the release radiated out in pulsing beats, my breaths turning into satisfied pants, my fingers digging deeper into his skin.

  His eyes pinched shut as he gave one final thrust inside me with a shuddering grunt. He collapsed on top of me with a groan, his head tucked in the crook of my neck, our slick bodies breathing heavy. He kissed the side of my neck gently, then rolled, falling beside me, blowing out a hard breath.

  His hand searched out mine, then he lolled his head to look at me, a lazy smile on his face. “You love me.”

  I shoved at his arm with a hoarse laugh. He chuckled, lifting our linked hands, kissing the back of mine.

  “You’re so needy,” I teased.

  “You’re right. Come here,” he said gruffly, prying my back from the bed and pulling me to his side.

  I splayed my hand over his stomach, listening to the frantic beats in his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as my own heart worked to find its normal rhythm.

  “I need you, too,” I admitted on a whisper.

  His mouth pressed against my head, saying nothing and everything.

  “I’m scared, Mario.”

  “I know.”

  “No. Not for me. For you, for us.” I sat up, resting my weight on one hand. “I don’t want what we have to change. I’m scared whatever is happening between you and my father will change you.”

  “It won’t.”

  “It could.” I lowered my gaze, tucking the hair that fell in my face behind my ear.

  “Listen to me”—he palmed my cheek and I leaned into the warmth of his touch—“nothing will ever touch this. This is ours. You and me.”

  I pulled away, forcing his hand to fall. I sat back, tucking my knees into my arms. “Will you kill for him?”

  “Lena,” he sighed, his eyes leaving me to focus on the ceiling.

  “Answer me, Mario.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “The truth.”

  “The truth is I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Even killing someone else?” I asked pointedly.

  “Yes,” he answered without hesitation.

  I slung my legs over the side of the mattress, pushing off the bed.

  “Lena.” He let out an agitated breath, lifting to his elbows.

  I grabbed a discarded shirt from the chair in his room and yanked it over my head. Snatching my panties from the floor, I quickly pulled them back on.

  “What are you doing?”

  I ignored him, marching out of the room.

  “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath from behind me.

  I was probably overreacting. I knew that. But I was allowed to react. I needed to react. I was tired of holding in all my emotions and thoughts to appease the arrogant men around me.

  I wiggled the frame of the window leading to the fire escape, needing to clear my head with some fresh air. I struggled, the damn thing barely budging.

  “Damn it!” I snapped. “This thing is a fire hazard.”

  Mario came up behind me, his arms reaching around me, jiggling it once before easily sliding it open.

  I spun to face him. He stepped back, hiding his grin, once again shirtless with nothing but a pair of jeans covering him.

  “It’s not funny.” I crossed my arms.

  He held up his palms in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

  I leaned against the sill, the cool night air breezing through the window and across my damp skin. He allowed me the silence as I processed, listening to the sirens wail in the distance, the breaks squealing to a stop at the intersection below.

  “I love you, Mario. You know that… But, I’m not sure how I feel about you killing someone.”

  “I’ve killed before.”

  “That was different. It was during war and when you were protecting someone.”

  “This is our war. And I’d be doing it to protect you.”

  “I don’t know if I can live with that.”

  He moved beside me, pressing his back against the glass as he crossed his long legs at his ankles, his hands gripping the sill’s edge. “I can’t promise you it won’t happen. But I can promise you that I won’t kill an innocent man. I won’t become one of them.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Murder is murder.”

  “No, but it’s the best I got. If there is any way around it, I won’t do it.” His hand reached for mine, tugging me to stand in front of him. He uncrossed his legs and I stepped between them. “Do you believe me?”

  I nodded, biting at my lower lip. Resting his hands on my hips, he stared into my eyes, surveying. Then he kissed me. And I prayed that he was right. That he’d remain the same, and that I wouldn’t regret not fighting him harder on this.

  7

  Mario

  I was addicted.

  To her lips and the soft curves of her body.

  To her selfless heart and stubborn attitude.

  And mostly, to her strength.

  It’s why I couldn’t seem to let this woman go.

  Like many addictions, she was a risk to my wellbeing, maybe even a death sentence. And like most addicts, I didn’t give a shit. I’d do anything for more of her. One more kiss. One more touch. One more second of holding her against me.

  “What happened?” she asked, her fingers grazing over the fresh scar on my side, her head resting on my chest as we sat beside each other on my couch.

  “I got shot in California.”

  She sat back, her eyes filled with concern as she examined me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I shrugged, pulling her back down, curling my arm around her to hold her in place. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Mario, you got shot,” she huffed, indignantly.

  “Yes. And I’m fine. I’m lucky that’s all that happened. It could have turned out a lot worse for the Blackwood family.”

  “You got shot protecting Valerie?”

  “Yes. I made some mistakes and paid for them.”

  She pressed a kiss to my scar, t
hen rested her head back on me and sighed.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I can hear those creaky wheels spinning in your head, bella.” I tickled her side. “Tell me.”

  “It’s nothing,” she giggled, squirming in my arms, attempting to fight back.

  “Say it,” I demanded, pulling her onto my lap, her legs straddling mine. I ran my hands up the smooth skin of her thighs, wanting nothing more than to bury myself deep inside her again.

  “It’s nothing, really.” She stared down at her hands, fiddling with the hem of my shirt she wore. “I was just curious if there’s anything else you aren’t telling me about your time in California.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know… You were there for a few months. We were broken up. Did you—”

  “No,” I said, stopping her before she said more.

  Her eyes flicked to mine.

  “There was nobody else. You were the only one I wanted, the only thing I could think about. It’s why I knew I made a mistake.”

  Satisfied with my response, her body relaxed. Falling forward, she pressed her cheek flush against me once again. I wrapped my arms around her. I didn’t need to ask her the same. I already knew I was the only guy she’d ever been with. I’d been her first. And God willing, I’d be her only. I ran my fingers through her hair, knowing the end of our time together was near.

  “I have to go,” she whispered regretfully.

  “I know.”

  “When can I see you again?”

  “Soon,” I promised. “We have to be careful. More careful than before.”

  She nodded, lifting her head. I took the opportunity to taste her strawberry lip gloss. I kissed her, then bit her bottom lip, tugging at it as I pulled away. I brushed the pad of my thumb across the small indention I left, feeling her warm, sweet breath as her mouth parted. I saw the arousal in her eyes and already regretted what I was about to say.

  “Get dressed,” I ordered.

  She deflated, lazily sliding off my lap onto the couch with a groan.

  “I’ll walk you to the subway.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. It’s too risky,” she argued as I tugged on her hands, dragging her to her feet.

  “I wasn’t asking.”

  If she thought for a moment I was going to let her wander alone through the streets this late at night, she was crazy.

  She stripped out of my shirt, exposing those beautiful tits of hers, and I felt my dick come to life again. Knowing we didn’t have time for another round, I shook the image from my head, willing it to soften, then turned away from the view, walking to my room to get myself dressed.

  “I was going to ask, but from the look on your face, I don’t have to,” Gia said, uncorking a bottle of wine.

  Leoni’s was packed with the weekend dinner crowd. Gia was giving Ma the night off, running things, mainly the bar, since the scheduled bartender called in sick. I promised her I’d stop by, keep her company, and back her up in case she needed the help. She didn’t. Running this place was as second nature for her as it was for Ma.

  “Ask me what?” I took a seat on one of the barstools and picked up the beer bottle she’d handed me upon my arrival, taking a sip.

  “Whether you’ve seen her.”

  I smiled and responding with the rise and fall of a single shoulder.

  She shook her head, not nearly as amused as me. She filled two wine glasses with the fresh bottle of merlot, then set them on the bar service mat, where one of the servers carried them away on a tray. “You’re lucky Ma isn’t here tonight to see that look on your face. And I don’t know how you can be so happy. She’s engaged to another man.”

  “I’m working on that.”

  “You’re working on that?” She gave me an incredulous look as she continued to ridicule me. “Did you start smoking crack when you were in California?”

  I laughed.

  She swatted at me with her bar rag, fighting back her own laugh through an emerging smile. “That cockiness is going to get you killed. Lorenzo isn’t someone you want to mess with.”

  “I can handle Ricci,” I muttered, taking another long pull from my beer bottle.

  “Dad said those same words and look where it landed him.”

  I looked away. I didn’t need the reminder. It’d never been confirmed, but my family was pretty sure Lorenzo’s dad had been the one to anonymously tip off the feds, pinning Frankie’s death on my father, among other crimes. The same Frankie I’d witnessed killed by Matteo Moretti himself, in the alley behind this very restaurant.

  My father had been Moretti’s right hand, a position Ricci wanted and got as soon as my father was sentenced to life with no chance of parole.

  I wasn’t my father, though. He’d chosen the wrong family to be loyal to. I’d make sure it was Ricci locked up at the end of this.

  Gia leaned in, resting her arms on the mahogany-stained bar. “Just watch your back, Mario. Lorenzo—he’s not old school like Moretti. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he plans to take Moretti out as soon as Lena says, ‘I do.’”

  Lena would never be saying ‘I do.’ But I didn’t bother correcting her.

  “Gia! They need your help in the kitchen,” one of the wait staff called from the side of the bar.

  She looked over at him, extending a single index finger in the air, then looked back at me. “Keep an eye on the bar for me?”

  “Sure.”

  She reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze before leaving me alone to help the cooks. A ticket rolled through the bar printer a few seconds after she was gone. I stood, making my way around the bar, tearing it off. I read over it, then snatched a few glasses dangling overhead to make the drinks. I took care of a couple more orders before Gia finally returned.

  “Thanks,” she said, coming up behind me as I finished off a martini with two skewered green olives.

  “Don’t thank me. I expect my cut of the tips at the end of the night.”

  She smacked my shoulder, attempting to push me out of the way as I chuckled.

  “If this is how she treats the help, I’d suggest looking for a new job.”

  Both of our heads turned to the man taking a seat at the bar, a smile wide on his face.

  “Holy shit! Gabe De Luca!” I connected my hand with his open palm, giving him a bro shake. “How the hell have you been?”

  He grinned. “Not bad, man. I heard you were back in town.”

  “Yeah,” I said, tossing the bar rag I’d been using on my shoulder and placing my hands on my waist. “What brings you all the way over here? I thought you were living in Jersey now.”

  Gia shifted her weight beside me, her throat clearing before she suddenly made herself busy, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. His eyes flicked to her, his smile slipping slightly, turning unsure.

  “Yeah. I uh—you know, was missing the food. Can’t beat Leoni’s.”

  “Hey, Gabe,” said the young waiter from earlier as he passed by, greeting him like he was a regular.

  Gabe glanced over his shoulder at the kid. “Hey, man,” he replied uncomfortably, before looking back at me.

  I liked to think I was a perceptive guy. I could pick up on even the subtlest of cues. And these two were being anything but subtle. But since they’d decided to treat me like I was an idiot, I figured it was only fair to fuck with them some.

  Resting my arms on the bar in front of him, I leaned in conspiratorially. “Well, it must be fate you came in tonight. There’s a couple of ladies over there”—I jerked my chin to the two cute girls dining a few yards away—“I was thinking about approaching. The brunette’s been giving me fuck-me eyes all night, if you know what I mean.” I winked. “I could use a wingman for her friend. If you’re still single, that is?”

  “I…” He glanced over my shoulder.

  I followed his gaze to Gia, whose back was now to us as she scrubbed a highball glass in the bar sink a little harder than necessary. “I think it�
�s clean, Gia. You scrub any harder, you might break it.” I turned back to Gabe. “What do you say, man? It’ll be like old times.”

  “Seriously, Mario,” Gia blurted, slamming the glass down on the rubber bar mat. It wasn’t nearly as impactful as a hard surface would have been. It toppled over and she grumbled, turning it upright again.

  “What?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Aren’t you—” She caught herself, and I smiled, both of us knowing she couldn’t mention Lena. She huffed, spinning to face me, brushing her hair from her brow. Her stare darted to Gabe then back to me.

  “Aren’t I what?” I taunted.

  Crossing her arms, she kicked out her hip. Her entire body blazed with her frustration. I fought back a laugh and lost. Gia growled, smacking me in the gut. I doubled over, still chuckling at her expense.

  “You’re such an ass,” she glowered.

  Gabe’s eyes pinged between us. He looked more confused than ever, still struggling with what he could or couldn’t say.

  “You deserved it,” I said through my fading laughter. I reached across the bar, giving Gabe a friendly slap on the arm. “I’m messing with you, man. I’m guessing you’re here for my sister.”

  His posture relaxed. “Yeah, sorry. It’s sort of new,” he grinned at Gia. “We ran into each other a few weeks ago at O’Malley’s. She’s been dodging all my attempts to take her out. I was hoping, showing up here in person every night, I’d finally be able to convince her.”

  She scoffed, attempting to hide the flush creeping up from her chest to her cheeks. “I’m not dodging. I told you, I have to work.” She picked up another drink order ticket, waving it in the air to make her point.

  I swiped the ticket from her and she glared at me. “Good thing you got a generous younger brother to cover for you.”

  “What?” her eyes widened, her smile fighting to break through. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Go on. I got it under control.”