by Cora Reilly
“You pretend to read but you watch me every morning,” he said. There was no judgment in his voice.
I wasn’t sure what to say. Embarrassment crawled up my neck. “I—I didn’t…” I began to protest but upon raising my head, his expression silenced me. He knew I’d been watching him. Of course he’d noticed. This was a man who had been raised to watch his surroundings. Denying it would have been ridiculous.
“You can watch. You are my wife,” he said. He tilted his head down, his eyes searching my face, and it felt like he could read my every thought. A few distracting droplets of water trailed down his beautiful face. What millions of male models probably had to practice for years, that cool, otherworldly expression, came naturally to him. “But I wonder why you do it. I thought my body scared you.”
It still did. Nino oozed strength. But fear had become a very small part of what I felt when I watched him. There was also that flicker of curiosity in the pit of my stomach and the burst of warmth deep inside of me when he moved in a way that accentuated his muscles.
I put down my book on the small side table, not sure how to say what I wanted to say and not sure I should even consider saying it. Some doors should stay closed. But what was holding me back—and would perhaps always hold me back if I let it—was something forced upon me in the past, something I wanted to be freed of.
“Sometimes I wonder how it would be to be more like husband and wife,” I admitted despite the heat in my cheeks, despite the spike of fear and worry about Nino’s reaction. Falcone or not, he had never given me reason to be truly fearful of him.
“You mean in a physical sense?” Nino asked in a low voice. There was the hint of something in his tone that I couldn’t place, but as usual, his face didn’t reveal anything.
I nodded, releasing a tense breath. I hadn’t thought I’d dare admit it, but Nino was always in control. I didn’t have to fear an emotional outburst from him. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t have to fear him at all.
He put down the towel, allowing me to view the length of him. I followed the invitation and slowly trailed my gaze over every inch of him. He didn’t move, but his stare was an insistent presence on my skin. “We could explore the physical options of our relationship, if you like. To be honest, I want you.”
He’d told me so before, but it still scared me. I glanced down at my hands, fumbling with the hem of my nightgown. Only one man had ever wanted me, and he’d taken what he wanted without asking. Nino wasn’t like that. He could have had me on our wedding night and every night since. There was certainly nobody who could have stopped him, least of all me.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
I sighed. “I’m scared.”
“Did I give you reason to be scared?”
I looked back up at his attentive face. “No, but I’m scared because you want me, and because I want you, but I don’t know if I can do it.”
“We can set limits, and we can go step by step.” He paused, his expression becoming contemplative. “If my physical strength unsettles you, we could try to have me restrained. I don’t mind.”
My mouth opened in shock. “You mean have you tied up?” Images of Nino with silk ties bound to the headboard entered my mind and almost had me laughing out loud. It seemed impossible that a man like him would suggest something like that.
Nino nodded. “That way you’d be free to explore without having to fear me.”
“But then I would have to lead.”
“Isn’t that what you’d prefer, given your past experiences? I have no trouble being dominant, but I doubt you’d react well to it.”
I wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed like the perfect solution, but it still terrified me, only now for a different reason.
“Have you ever reached climax?” he asked quietly, still staring at me with his quiet scrutiny.
My eyes widened, and I gave a jerky shake of my head. My stomach plunged into an abyss as I remembered how it had felt to have him in me. “All I felt was pain … and shame.”
He lightly grazed my shoulder, the touch warm and gentle. How could he always be so warm when his face was so beautifully cold? “I didn’t mean when you were raped. I mean later. Did you ever touch yourself and feel good?”
I bit my lip, trying to shake off the memories and focus on the present. “Not really. I tried to touch myself a few times, but it felt wrong.”
Nino surprised me when he perched on the edge of the lounge chair, his bare back brushing my naked calves. I didn’t pull away, and I had a feeling it was an attempt for him to see if I could stand his closeness. “It would be good if you explored your body and figured out what you like and conditioned your brain to realize that sexual touch can be very pleasurable.”
My face became impossibly hot, even when Nino looked as if we were talking about what we’d have for dinner tonight.
“I’m not sure my body is capable of finding anything pleasurable,” I whispered.
Nino angled his body to the side and slowly reached for my ankle. I tensed briefly, more out of confusion than anything else. He paused, his eyes narrowing, and when I relaxed, his fingers brushed my ankle before he cupped my heel. He began to apply light pressure with his fingers as he stroked the underside of my calf and looked into my eyes. His fingers never reached higher than my calf, but the touch seemed to send tingles up my knee, my thigh, and straight to my core.
My eyes wandered over to Nino as he stroked me, over his strong arms, his muscled chest, and his ripped stomach. After a while, my breathing picked up, and the tingling increased until I could feel wetness gather between my legs. Startled, I rocked my hips lightly.
Nino let go of my calf, his mouth curling at the corner. “I think your body will adjust well to pleasure.”
My cheeks heated even more, but more than embarrassment, I felt relief. Nino swallowed once before he murmured, “Now that your body is already aroused, it would make sense for you to explore yourself.”
“You want me to touch myself?”
“Yes,” he rasped. “Not here. Somewhere private, where you feel relaxed. I would recommend you focus on your clit at first. Try to rub it lightly with two fingers, and if you feel close to release, you can try to dip a bit lower and give your labia some attention. That’s a spot many women are very sensitive, some even favor it over their clit. I don’t think you will feel comfortable with a finger inside you yet, but it would add to the overall pleasure.”
My center had become warmer and even wetter, hearing his deep voice.
“It would also help if you imagine something that arouses you.”
“You,” I burst out, feeling suddenly emboldened.
Nino heaved a deep breath and something in his eyes shifted. “If that helps, yes. Imagine me.” His voice had dropped lower than ever before, and a slight stiffness had taken hold of his upper body. Confused, I was about to ask if I had offended him somehow when I registered the way his swim trunks tented.
I sucked in a breath. A flicker of fear coursed through me, but I was far more curious than afraid.
“I told you I desire you,” he murmured. “And if you want to explore physical options, you’ll have to get over your fear of my erection.”
“I’m not scared,” I said then amended my words because of his no lying rule. “Mostly.”
He rose to his feet, and again, my eyes were drawn to his groin area. “Why don’t you go into our bedroom and do what I suggested and find some relief?”
“What about you?”
“I’m going to seek relief as well,” he said matter-of-factly.
Would you prefer if I sated my sexual drive somewhere else? I’d said yes on our wedding night.
“Where?” I asked.
He didn’t say anything, only watched me with cold intensity.
I stood as well because it made me feel stronger, even if Nino still towered a head over me. “I don’t want you to seek out other women anymore.”
There. I said it. And relief wash
ed over me. It had bothered me for a while, ever since I realized I wanted this marriage to be more than about necessity. I wasn’t sure how they handled things here in Las Vegas, if maybe he never meant to be faithful, if he expected to keep sleeping around simply because he could, but it wasn’t something I could ever accept if we really moved our relationship to a physical level.
Nino regarded me. “So you want me to seek you out to satisfy my sexual needs?” His voice held a strange note, and he took a step toward me.
There was the hint of curiosity in his eyes. This was him conducting an experiment, I realized. I’d learned to read him much better. I stood my ground and didn’t back away. He moved even closer until I could almost feel the heat radiating off his body. He wasn’t touching me.
“Eventually, yes,” I said quietly. “Obviously I’m not able to do it yet.” To be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do it, but I wanted to.
“So until you feel ready, you suggest I get myself off with my own hands?”
I frowned. Was he mocking me? Or being serious? It was so hard to tell because he’s said it dryly, without the hint of emotion. Suddenly, I felt foolish for having brought up the matter. This was Las Vegas, he was a Falcone, and despite his consideration toward me so far, he was still a man used to having women, money, and power at his disposal. Why should he give up one for me? I meant nothing to him. I was a pawn in this game for power.
I looked away, unable to bear his cold beauty. Turning around, I was about to leave when he stepped in my way. My eyes flew back up to him.
“Answer me, Kiara. Is that what you suggest?”
Sighing, I nodded. “I know how things are. I know your clubs are filled with willing women, but yes, I want you to be faithful to me. I can’t explore physical closeness with you as long as you see other women.”
“You realize that you can’t explore your sexuality with anyone but me.”
“Is that so?” I wasn’t sure why I said that.
And for once, Nino let his expression become the one most people knew, one of dominance and suppressed violence. “It is. I won’t ever push you past your boundaries, but just because I haven’t claimed your body with my cock yet doesn’t mean I haven’t laid claim on you. You are mine. Mine alone. And for as long as I live, no one will touch you but me.”
It was the least restrained I’d ever seen him, and it reminded me of the man he really was. I felt overwhelmed and on the verge of taking flight.
Nino let out a harsh breath and took a step back from me then sank down on the chair.
I blinked. Was he making himself small on purpose? He was watching me closely.
“Better?” he asked quietly, in control again.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want to scare you.”
“Didn’t we agree on no lies?” I asked teasingly.
Nino’s mouth twitched. “We did. And you are right to some extent. I knew you’d yield to my view of things if I exerted dominance, and given your history, I could foresee how it would make you feel. But it wasn’t a conscious decision to scare you.”
“Okay.”
His brows pulled together. “When I first suggested satisfying my sexual drive elsewhere, you were relieved.”
Back to the topic at hand. Nino never let himself be distracted.
“I was, but I don’t want that anymore. I want us to have a real marriage.”
“Isn’t this a real marriage? It’s official, after all.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I mean. I want a normal marriage. For me that means being faithful and being intimate only with your partner. It means taking care of each other, showing affection, trying to love each other.” The last slipped out because it was something I wanted deep down inside.
Nino pushed to his feet again and moved closer. “I can be faithful and I can show you affection …”
“But you can’t love, I know.”
Nino startled me by cupping my cheeks, his eyes warmer, his expression softer than ever before. “I can simulate emotions very well, Kiara. If it helps you feel more comfortable, I can fake affection and even love.”
I peered up at him. Without his words, I would have believed the tenderness on his face to be real. I swallowed hard. “Don’t pretend to care for me. Don’t lie.”
His expression became one of cold beauty again, and my heart clenched tightly. “I want to take care of you, and even if I can’t feel emotions, seeing them on your face, particularly happiness and joy, give me a certain level of satisfaction. I can’t give you more than that.”
“Okay,” I whispered, because there was nothing else to say. It had to be enough. I’d expected so much less out of this union, and so much worse. I couldn’t hold it against Nino that he couldn’t feel.
“Would you like to go inside now?”
“I don’t think I’m in the mood for exploring anymore,” I said quietly.
He tilted his head. “I understand.”
“Maybe later?” I asked quietly.
“Of course,” he said. “How about I get dressed and we practice your shooting skills some more.”
For him it was always easy to move on because no topic ever moved him so much his brain couldn’t proceed, but I didn’t want to make a bigger deal out of this than it was so I nodded.
He returned thirty minutes later in black pants and a black shirt, his go-to clothes. I had seen him in similar clothes so often before, and yet the sight got to me today. He looked tall and strong and graceful, and the tattoos on his arms created just the right contrast to his perfectly beautiful face.
Two guns hung from the holster strapped to his chest, but I knew he hid more weapons on his body. I had become a better shot over the course of our last few lessons, but today my concentration was frayed.
A few hours later, I sat in our living room and played the song I’d started working on almost six weeks ago. It was a song that helped me deal with my marriage with Nino, helped me understand my feelings toward the man. The breeze streamed in through the windows, and I breathed deeply. I missed the scent of ocean in the air, but Las Vegas’ warmth felt good. I didn’t feel constantly cold anymore.
“What song is that?”
My fingers jerked against the keys and the piano released a low whine in response.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Adamo said as he stepped into the room through the open French doors.
I relaxed and smiled. “It’s okay. I startle too easily.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded toward the piano. “You can keep playing. I like to listen.”
Had he listened to me play before? I settled my fingers lightly on the keys and began where I’d left off when he’d startled me. He moved closer and propped up his elbows on the wing. A bruise bloomed on his left cheekbone, and his lip was busted. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him without a busted lip.
“What happened to your face?”
“My brothers practice fighting with me.”
“When will you be inducted?”
He looked down at his bloody knuckles. “In two months. August. On my fourteenth birthday.”
“But you don’t want to?”
Adamo shrugged. “I’m a Falcone. The Camorra is my destiny.” His brows drew together. “But I don’t want to do most of the things expected of me.”
“Kill people.”
“That,” he agreed, a dark look passing over his face. “I already did. Kill someone. Shot him. I’m a good shot.”
I nodded and stopped playing again.
“I don’t enjoy killing, and I don’t want to torture people or hurt women,” he whispered.
“Then don’t,” I said and realized how stupid I was. Adamo couldn’t choose his path, not as others could.
He pressed out a laugh. “I have to.”
“What would you rather do?”
His eyes lit up. “Race cars.”
“You can drive a car?”
“Remo let
me drive his car when I was eleven, and I managed to sneak into a few races since then. I crashed two of his cars. He was majorly pissed, and now he keeps a closer eye on me so I can’t do it anymore.”
“Is that why you are sulking around the gardens and listening to me play?” I asked with a smile.
“I’m supposed to watch you.”
I burst out laughing then quieted at the indignant look on his face. I still found it funny that the youngest Falcone was supposed to be my bodyguard. “Sorry.”
“I’m a good shot and a decent fighter, and it’s not like someone is going to attack our mansion. It’s the safest place in Vegas.”
“Because people are terrified of Remo.”
“And Nino,” Adamo added then curled his lips in disgust. “Since he fought his first official cage fight, Savio’s even cockier than before. He thinks he’s as scary as them, but he’s not. Not even close.”
“Agreed. Nobody does scary as well as Remo and Nino,” I said. Luca had been terrifying, but maybe because I’d known him from a young age, I could deal with his brand of scary better than that of the Falcones.
“Yeah,” Adamo murmured and then became serious, his brown eyes hesitant. “Is Nino nice to you?”
I pursed my lips. Nice wasn’t really a term I’d use for Nino. “He is …”
“Present,” Nino drawled, making me jump and Adamo as well.
I turned toward his voice. He was leaning in the doorway, tall and cold, muscled arms crossed over his chest. For once he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoos.
“You should be doing homework or work on your knife skills,” Nino said, pushing off the wall and striding toward us.
Adamo jutted his chin out, but he didn’t protest. “Bye, Kiara,” he muttered before he walked out of the French doors.
Nino propped his hip up against the piano as he always did, and my eyes took in the way his pants accentuated his muscled legs, the way his shirt clung to his torso. “And am I being nice to you?”
I nodded, but I couldn’t stop looking at him and remembering his suggestion from this morning.