L'amore: The Luminara Series

by SJ Molloy

  “Fucking hell,” he growls then grabs onto my hips. He feels so good. I plan to ride him fast and hard, and I do just that. I feel him … nothing else. I bounce up and down, consuming his steel shaft and clamping tightly around it. I ride him fast and furiously.

  I grind.

  I thrust.

  I drive.

  “Christ, Lexi, you feel so good. Keep going, baby … ahh ...” he hisses with pleasure on my next hard thrust.

  Throwing my head back, rolling my eyes, I lift higher and grind lower, exerting my shameless, raw carnality, riding him senseless. I’m close, so close to explosion. The sinful greed of another mighty, mind-blowing orgasm is seconds away. I’m impatient so I move my hand and flick my clit, grasping one of my breasts with the other.

  Screaming, I splinter through another euphoric, mind-shattering orgasm sparking my body into a frenzied delight. I combust.

  I’m deliriously dizzy in my exultant paradise, but Lucca is still lifting me up and down on him, he’s frantically ramming himself up to me in strong, impelling thrusts, grunting with fervour while taking control. My sex feels energised with sensitivity as tremors course through me. I’m crying and whimpering still, because this orgasm continues to ripple.

  It’s too much.

  It’s perfect.

  I can’t take it.

  I’m delirious.

  It’s going on and on, enrapturing me while he shudders up in a hard, stiff jerk and holds my hips while he’s balls deep. He’s tensing and puffing out my name through clenched teeth, filling me with his release, and once more finding his own euphoric delight.

  He’s pumping into me so high and hard, he’s lifted his own hips off the sofa, my knees coming off the leather with him. I tilt my hips forward, leaning backwards, taking him to his base in the perfect angel. Contracting my muscles, clenching my ass cheeks, and holding onto his girth, I take.

  He twitches a few times in me, digging his fingers into my hips and ass. Once my shock waves have zapped through my entire body, I collapse on top of him, completely spent and temporarily clouded, sheltered from my brutal, evil reality.

  Fearless.

  Closing our eyes, hot, sweaty, and exhausted, we lie like this while he gently strokes my back and ass and plays with my hair, languorously kissing me. I’m not sure if minutes have elapsed when I open my eyes, but I’m still here in his arms sated and light-headed, and I don’t want to move.

  “Lexi, baby, I need to get you home. Are you awake?” he whispers against my cheek.

  “Hmmm …”

  He sits up, still holding me, then places me on the sofa. I’m so exhausted I can’t speak. I need sleep. Slumping on my side, I draw my knees up, ready for sleep, forgetting how exposed I am and where I am.

  He disappears then returns with another glass of water and towels. He wipes us clean with a wet towel stroking the beads of sweat from my forehead and neck then uses another hot, wet towel for my sex. Sitting me upright, he gives me the glass of water.

  I sip the water as Lucca dresses. Then he returns with my panties and slips them over my legs. He puts my bra inside his jacket pocket and slips my dress over me, zipping it up, then scoops me into his arms.

  I’m safe.

  Chapter 27

  Picture Book

  The next time I open my eyes, Lucca’s loving blues are contently watching me with rapt attention. His stubble tickles my cheek as his thumb traces my lips. He’s real. Smiling, I’m thrilled I’m not still dreaming and waking up with my Italian god.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “I have run us a bath. I thought we could relax today, have some more make-up sex, and have that chat. I need to speak with you and clear things up. I had to bring you straight to bed last night. You were shattered, so I thought it best to wait until today.” He lifts my wrist and kisses my small scar.

  “Yes to the bath and relaxing, and definitely yes, to more make-up sex. I’m in. What are we chatting about?” I ask nonplussed yawning and fluttering my lashes.

  A confused frown creases his brow. Searching his face, I’m momentarily clueless. Oh God, the realisation strikes me like a bolt of lightning and I gasp, panicking, and tighten my grip on him.

  “Sweetheart, it is okay, I have you. You are going to be safe. I will never let anything happen to you, ever.” He kisses my engagement ring then sweetly kisses my lips as I delicately hold his face in my trembling hands.

  My stomach has turned over as I replay last night’s brutal discovery in my mind.

  I’m going to be sick.

  Freeing myself from his embrace, I stumble out the bed and hobble into the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Lucca moves my hair and rubs my back. When I think I can’t vomit anymore, I hover over the toilet and vomit again. I’m not anywhere near finished. I’m sick until I’m retching and there’s nothing left.

  “Oh God,” I groan. My stomach’s cramping. I’m dizzy, feverish, and now have a throbbing headache.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing my back.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “I will get you some painkillers and water. Do you want anything else?”

  “Only you,” I sigh.

  “You have me forever, Doc. I hate seeing you like this.”

  After helping me up, he wets a cloth with cold water and holds it to my forehead. Then he pulls on his boxer shorts to go to the kitchen and returns with iced water and painkillers. I brush my teeth, swallow the tablets, then rinse with mouthwash.

  He picks me up and puts me in the bath. Then he slides in behind me, pulling my back to rest against his chest, and wraps his arms around me stroking my arms and shoulders. This is the only place I want to be, the only place I feel safe.

  “Lucca?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I’m scared,” I quaver softly, trailing my fingers over his forearms.

  “I know you are, but he cannot touch you. I will not let it happen. You are going to be fine, Lexi.” He kisses the side of my head to comfort me, and I melt into his protective embrace.

  “How did you know I was at BarAsta?” I swirl my fingers over his bulky arms in another featherlike dance.

  “I own the building, so the club manager called me to say you had booked in under my membership number. I flew home earlier in the day, desperate to speak to you and apologise. I was already home and going fucking stir-crazy when Devon realised you were not at Jessica’s.”

  Inhaling deeply, he continues, “I should not have got drunk like that. I was so stressed out with your protection and the shit going on with Kimberley, but that is no excuse. I am sorry. I cannot even remember what I said, but Fran mentioned I rambled on that he would not take you, and then I panicked in case you worked it out. When you would not answer my calls, I had to come home. Shamefully, I do not even remember collapsing at Fran’s. You know that nothing happened between us, and that nothing will ever happen with Fran. It is history.”

  I believe him.

  “I’m sorry I overreacted. Between the guards, the mail, and then the thing with Fran, I didn’t know what was going on, and I was consumed with jealousy and rage.” I stretch my legs, moving my head, embarrassed by my confession.

  “I am a fucking idiot. I hate that I lied to you, and I hate that I hurt you, baby. I was only trying to protect you.”

  “I understand why you never told me. I’m furious with Kimberley. The way she dug into my past unnerves me. And she had to say it in front of …” I feel embarrassed but more than that, I’m so very angry and scared, my voice becomes shaky.

  “Jackson?”

  “Yes.”

  His body becomes rigid and he tightens his hold around me. “Do not worry your pretty little head about her. She hacked into Suzanne’s emails so she has breached company data protection, which means she is fucked from a business perspective. I have reasonable grounds to dismiss her. I will ensure that little bitch gets what she deserves, do not
worry.”

  “How long have you known? When did you find out and how?” I probe.

  “Cameron found out through his contacts at CID when he was on night shift. He called me on Monday night when I was already on my trip, which is why I appointed the security.” He strokes my arm then links his fingers with mine, resting them on his knees.

  “How do they know about Michael?”

  “He skipped parole and used a fake identity to get into the UK. They found … err, indecent photographs of you from your childhood in his apartment. They believe he was involved with Damien Thomson, a private investigator in London, but, Lexi … Damien was found dead.”

  “What? Are you serious?” I tense up and grip onto Lucca’s robust arms.

  “It looks like a staged suicide.” He tries to soothe me by kissing my head but I’m too rigid.

  “Oh my God,” I blurt in a panic.

  Quickly, I turn around splashing everywhere and plead into his eyes, begging for hope that he’s wrong. His honest, loving eyes have confirmed he’s not. They look tired and hurt, but they are honest.

  “It was him. He’s capable of murder,” I say, shaking my head. My bottom lip quivering, the tears fall freely down my cheeks, and I can’t hold back. Lucca takes my face in both hands, placing his thumbs on my cheeks and presses his forehead to mine. I’m trembling, quaking with fear. “It’s me he’s after.” I sob.

  “You do not know that. He is a psychotic sociopath, but just because your pictures were found does not confirm it is you. It is possible, but I am not taking any chances, nor is Cameron.” He speaks so softly and candidly; he’s trying to calm me.

  Shaking my head adamantly, I raise my voice. “LISTEN TO ME. It’s me he wants.”

  Fuck!

  File C for confess. Confess everything to make him understand.

  I feel sick again, and I don’t think I can say it, but I need to tell him. The pain in my chest is razor sharp; it’s stabbing me, trying to pull me under, and I can’t breathe.

  Fire.

  Screaming.

  Yelling.

  Blood.

  Tears.

  Moss.

  Dirt.

  Dig.

  Escape.

  Gun.

  Shoot.

  Bang.

  Panic.

  Run.

  Free.

  Breathe.

  “Deep breaths, deep breaths. Shhh, it is okay.”

  He spends a few minutes holding me, caressing me, and it has calmed me slightly, but the tears still sting my eyes and drip from my chin. I can taste them on my lips … the tears of terror.

  “I killed him,” I blurt out. “I killed his father, my father. I killed him and now he wants to kill me. Don’t you understand? Damn it, he wants revenge. The night I killed Simon Parks and we escaped, he said he would find me and make me suffer and now he’s here.” My pulse quickens, chest heaves, and heart rate accelerates.

  I can’t look at him; his future wife is a murderer. Pulling away, I move to stand up. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I haven’t got around to writing it down in my journal and it’s never come up. I’ve been protecting you from finding out the truth. You must hate me. I didn’t want to tell you, in case …” I whimper, avoiding eye contact.

  He pulls me back down and engulfs me in warmth and security. “Baby, I do not hate you. I could never hate you. You saved three lives, Lexi. You are a hero, not a bloody murderer, so do not think that for a second. I am so proud of you. If you had not done what you had to do, we would not be here now, together. You are much stronger than you think. You do not need to talk about it; I know this is hard enough for you. But please know it changes nothing between us. I love you.”

  Looking down at him, I clench my eyes together and lift my shoulders, breathing heavily.

  Relieved?

  Perhaps.

  Ashamed?

  Yes.

  His voice is breaking, and I see tears welling in his bright eyes that are losing their sparkle, the blue now changing to a cloudy grey-blue. His own tears trail down his face, and it’s painful to see him torn up like this. My stomach knots and twists seeing him vulnerable.

  “Please, don’t cry for me.” I’ve found some strength and have dug deep for compassion. I’m now comforting him. “One day I’ll tell you about it, if you want to listen, but I’m not ready yet and I need you to be strong for me, Lucca. I need you.”

  He closes his eyes with a sigh then opens them again, nodding his head. “You have me, baby. I am damaged and suffering for you, with you. It kills and fucking tears me apart to see how fragile you are right now. We will get through this, I promise you. I am taking you away. Cameron suggested a safe house, but there is nowhere safer than this house, so I am taking you back to Italy until he has been found in the UK.”

  My cheek bonds against his like glue. My arms wrap around his neck.

  Sticky.

  Salty.

  Raw.

  I’m struggling to dam my flowing tears as they cascade down my cheeks. Burning, hot, acidic liquid trickles.

  Blood.

  Poison.

  Red.

  That’s what it feels like and what I deserve.

  To cry blood.

  “What about up north? We need to go because I’ve promised them. I need to visit them, and my mum will be beside herself.” I sniffle.

  “We are still going tomorrow. Lloyd and Devon are coming with us. Marco and extra security are staying here, and I have also arranged security for your mother. I spoke to a CID specialist in these cases and we need to be cautious, but it is important to try and keep normalcy and continue with life. I know it is hard, but I need us to live our lives the best we can under these circumstances to prevent you from a …”

  He drops his head and strokes my hair.

  Enough said.

  He can’t even look at me. Shit. I know what he’s thinking … the worst.

  “Just say it. You think I’m going to have a breakdown like my mum. You think I'm emotionally unstable,” I sob hysterically, knowing I’m right.

  “No, I do not. I know you are much stronger than that. You are the strongest woman I know. You saved your family at such a young age, and it is admirable. It is your natural instinct to pick yourself back up and care for others. You are resilient, tough, and selfless, baby, you just do not see it. The specialist has studied your case and thinks you are exceptionally fragile, going on your past therapy. They have offered counselling, but if you think you need it, we can arrange for Casey Huddersfield to work with us again. I know you trust her.”

  “Let’s just see how we get on. I don’t think I need therapy when I have you. You are all the therapy I need.” I know I do need Casey, but for now all I want is Lucca.

  I tilt my head, reach for his face, and graze my fingers over his stubble then his lips. His warm smile spreading beneath my fingers shows he appreciates that I’m trying to stay focused. I don’t want to give him any reason to think I’m as weak as my mum. His tears are drying up, as are mine.

  “I love you,” I whisper. He kisses me then frowns, noticing something. He traces his thumb over the tiny scar on the skin of my upper arm.

  Oh no, we’re not having the contraception discussion now.

  I’m surprised he doesn’t mention it. He only leans over and kisses the mark on the inside of my arm with his wet lips. Maybe he realises he’ll be pushing me, not wanting to inflict any more pain or upset on me right now.

  “I love your eyelashes. They are very sexy, and I notice your hair is cut. It is pretty. You are very beautiful, Lexi. You looked stunning last night.”

  “Thank you for pamper night. The girls absolutely died and went to heaven. They loved it. It was very generous and thoughtful.”

  “You are welcome. I am glad you enjoyed it, but I am sorry I ruined it by worrying you again.” I remain silent. “Turn around and I will wash your hair then I had better feed you. I do not want you fainting or getting
dizzy again.”

  Oh God. I’d forgotten about that.

  Fuck!

  File H for humiliated. Humiliated I passed out and in front of Jackson.

  “Are you mad at me for having a drink with Jackson? He was only helping me because I couldn’t walk on my ankle.”

  “I know, he told me. No, I am not mad at you. I am envious he spent quality time with you when I was going out of my mind with worry and wished it was me who had comforted you. But I know he would never hurt you, and I am thankful you had someone taking care of you. Cameron has told me he is trustworthy.”

  He slowly massages conditioner into my scalp with his expert hands, making me relax under his touch. When we’ve been in the bath for over an hour, he lifts me out, then dries me off, kisses my ankle, and rubs arnica cream over my bruised skin. He wraps me in my robe and kisses my wrist and the small incision on my arm then tells me he’ll be back with food.

  I doze off then startle when all the girls come bounding into the bedroom. They jump on the bed to hug me.

  “We brought your shoes and bag, and Lucca’s gift. He was over the moon,” Jess explains.

  “We had to make sure you were okay,” Sam continues, searching my face for distress.

  “Why are you all not at work today? This is Friday, right?” I ask, reaching my hands out to them. They all climb on the bed huddling in to cuddle me.

  “We’re going, but we wanted to see you first,” Carrie replies.

  “Where’s Skip?”

  “I’m here, I’m just finding something to wear,” she shouts.

  Puzzled, I look towards Lucy. “We stayed another hour or so drinking after Lucca took you away, and she’s still got last night’s clothes on because she locked herself out. Then she woke Mr. Carlin up and slept in his spare room because Dominic was furious with how drunk she was,” Lucy says with a laugh shaking her head.