Empire (Eagle Elite Book 7) (28 page)

My heart is true as steel. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Valentina

STEAL HIS BODY
— his heart will follow.

The note on my wedding day, the one that came with the dress, had very specific instructions. Steal his body, his heart will follow. Along with the dress and my note was the one for Sergio.

I didn’t know what it meant. What any of it meant.

And I’d been too traumatized to think about it until the kiss.

Would I have been as brave without the encouragement? Probably not. But something about the way he was mumbling about turning the lights on and off was cute, like part of his alpha attitude had somehow taken a detour and revealed a nervousness and vulnerability I’d never seen in him before.

It set me at ease.

And had me wondering — did he want me as much as I wanted him?

Worst case scenario, he rejects me and slams the door. Been there, done that, only this time it would suck worse because I’d be half-naked.

The words from the note still haunted me.

Steal his body — his heart will follow.

So I did the only thing I knew how — after all, it worked with killers right? Flashing boob? That’s how we’d survived earlier.

I figured if it worked on those killers.

It would work on my husband.

And it did.

Too well.

Sergio’s mouth was so wet and hot that I had trouble not squirming beneath him each time his sizzling lips met my skin.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair as he lowered his mouth to my thigh, so dangerously close to kissing me in a place I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

My body tensed with nervousness and maybe a bit of dread — it was the unknown, and everything felt good, but it was new. And scary.

He pulled back abruptly, his expression one of concentration. “Get up.”

“No!” I shook my head. “I’ll do better? See? Not tense!” I tried relaxing as much as I could, while his lips twitched with a smile. “Are you laughing at me?”

“On the inside,” he said in a serious voice. “Does that make it better?”

I pouted. “No.”

Sergio tugged me up to a sitting position then pulled me to my feet, taking my place at the foot of the bed. He still had boxer briefs on, but they hid nothing. If I was intimidated before. I was freaking the hell out now.

“Sit here.” He pulled my body down so I was facing him, my legs straddling him like before. The plane jolted, my body slammed against his, the friction, the feel of our bodies was hot. And good. So good, that if I just moved a little more, a little faster.

“Ride me,” he whispered in my ear. “Hard.”

Was that what I was doing?

“And get out of your damn head.” His mouth met mine in a long, languid kiss. I was dizzy with the sensation of him pressed against me, along with his tongue in my mouth.

He deepened the kiss, moaning as I moved against him more.

The turbulence hit again. I fell against him harder.

“Fuck.” He breathed against my neck. “Just like that, let your body take over…”

“But—”

He gripped my hips, his teeth nibbling on my neck between kisses as he thrust me against him. The turbulence, or maybe the universe, agreed because each time we hit a bump it was like our bodies fought to join one another.

Sensations built up within me, impossible to stop the need to move faster, harder against him.

“That’s it,” he urged, his voice hoarse. “Let go, sweetheart.”

The plane jolted.

And so did I as something broke around me, maybe it was my body, my heart, a mixture of both. It felt — too good to be true.

Without giving me any time to think about what just happened, Sergio picked me up by the butt and tossed me onto the bed, kicking off his black boxer briefs, and then very slowly tugging my thong down my legs.

This was happening.

The sensations were gone.

Replaced with a bit of trepidation as a man who I’d seen snap other men in half, hovered his powerful godlike body over me.

He was both beast and prince.

The lines of his body were breathtaking. He wore scars of his battles on his perfect skin, his strong jaw clenched as he lowered his body, closer, and closer, until finally we were skin to skin.

I let out a gasp as he slowly teased my entrance. “You’re ready for me….”

“How do you know?” Pressure built inside of me again, an intense need for something I didn’t know how to vocalize.

“Trust me.” His lips grazed my ear, and then he was kissing me again. This kiss was different, almost violent in nature, so easy to get caught up in, all consuming. Our breathing was one. And then he sank into me.

Completely.

I gasped and then let out a pathetic whimper.

He covered my mouth with his then pulled back. “I’m sorry, it’s never easy the first time.”

“That’s it?” I frowned, slightly disappointed.

He grinned as his body moved in and out, building up a slow cadence, allowing me to get used to the fullness. “Hell, no.”

I nodded.

Once.

Twice.

He shifted so he could reach between our bodies. Everything about his body was heavy, massive, sweaty, as his calloused palm pressed firmly against my core, the aching sensation intensified as he thrust into me again and again.

My mouth fell open with a moan as he kissed the side of my neck, and whispered, “Open your eyes.”

“Don’t want to.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“Watch me fuck you.”

Maybe I was scandalized, or shocked, or a mixture of both, but I opened my eyes and what I saw wasn’t what he described.

He thought he was.

He wanted it to be simple.

But there was nothing but tenderness as he slowed his pace and lengthened each thrust so deep I thought I was going to combust.

“Yes,” I whimpered clawing at his back. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please…” I tugged his mouth down to mine and kissed it tenderly changing the way I clung to him, embracing him, showing him with my body that this was more — we were more than what he was making it. “Make love to me, Sergio. Make me forget everything but us.”

A pained expression crossed his features as he thrust one last time, his body pressing mine into the bed as his mouth found mine in a punishing kiss.

Something shifted in that moment between us when I cried out and he collapsed against me.

Something epic.

But I didn’t have time to figure it out, because as soon as he collapsed against me, jerked away, scooped his clothes from the floor and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

For never anything can be amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it. –A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Sergio

ANGER
.

Always attacks in two different ways.

Either it’s a slow burn, a swirling bitter madness pumping into your veins until you feel like you’re going to explode.

Or it’s sudden.

Like getting shot in the chest with acid, but being paralyzed, unable to move, and in that moment, you like the feeling, you accept it.

You deserve it.

Madness.

Anger.

Uncontrollable anger.

For the first time in my life.

Both happened simultaneously as I threw my clothes against the wall. Not enough. It wasn’t enough.

It still hurt.

The anger still pumped.

I slammed my hands against the bar and shoved all the crystal glassware off. It flew through the air and hit my bare feet then spread around the floor of the plane.

Chest heaving, I punched the mahogany bar with my right fist over and over and over again.

“Sergio.” Val’s voice was calm. Why the hell was she calm.

“Leave!” I yelled without turning around, not trusting my own violence, my inability to turn on her. “NOW!”

A quiet “No,” was whispered.

And then her arms wrapped around my waist.

I tried to pull her away but it was like all of my strength had abandoned me.

“Fuck.” I slid to the ground, through Val’s arms and pulled my knees to my chest. “You need to go.”

She didn’t argue, but she still wouldn’t leave.

“Val, I’m warning you.”

Was she stupid?

I refused to look at her.

I already felt like shit. The last thing I needed to see was the anger in her eyes, the rejection, the vulnerability. I’d just taken her virginity and ran out of the room like demons were chasing me.

They were.

They clawed at my bleeding body, laughing, taunting, shaking me until I wanted to burn in hell — right along with my sins.

I wanted to be more than my past, more than the all consuming darkness, and for a few brief moments, I’d felt happy, the happiest I’d been in a long time.

But as soon as the happiness occurred, the guilt followed. Being inside her, knowing her in that way, it was like I was being forced to let go.

In order to accept her.

I had to let go of Andi.

I refused to do that.

I couldn’t do that.

“Damn it.” I rubbed my face with my eyes. “Val, I need to be alone. I’m sorry I’m being a jackass. But, can you please just leave?”

“No.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I barked, irritated that she wouldn’t just give me one minute to myself. It was all I needed. Just one damn minute to think things through. To process what had just happened.

To re-live the way she tasted.

The way she felt.

Even though it was wrong.

So damn wrong to feel — a completeness with her that I’d…

My fists shook. She was different from Andi, I knew that. What I didn’t expect.

Was for my feelings for her, after one encounter.

To be stronger.

And I hated myself for it.

Had I even loved Andi?

My chest ached.

And it wouldn’t go away.

She was the problem.

Val.

She needed to be the one running — there’d been a reason I kept a distance, and now I knew.

Oh, I knew all right.

She was dangerous — the power she already had over me was palpable, like something had changed even in the air between us, the swirling tension of sex, lust, hurt feelings… love.

“Get some sleep, Val,” I whispered. “I’m not good company right now.”

I tried to sound more gentle, more in control of my words.

“I think you need someone… maybe, even if that someone doesn’t do anything except sit next to you in broken glass.”

I glanced down, my feet were cut up, my hands were bleeding and bruised, and she was sitting on glass next to me, like it wasn’t piercing into her skin, like she was okay with the pain, because it was shared with my own.

With a sigh, Val held out her hand to me.

I stared at it like it was a foreign object. “It’s just a hand, Sergio.”

“No.” I bit down on my lip tasting blood. “It’s not.”

Val gripped my bleeding hand in hers and held it tight. “For now. It is. Make it simple, Sergio. I’m holding your hand because you’re upset. That’s all there is to it, okay?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded as I found myself squeezing her hand back as if it was a lifeline.

THE PLANE LANDED.

And I still hadn’t spoken more than a few sentences to Val. She’d changed into her clothes and started cleaning up the mess of glass.

I was dressed in my slacks and white shirt from the wedding, but my clothes felt dirty, tarnished. And I had no idea why.

After thanking the pilot, I sent a quick note to Nikolai to warn him about the mess and offer to pay for the damages. Not that he’d probably care, but still.

A Mercedes-Maybach waited on the tarmac, its engine running, and one of the Family associates, Darin, in the driver’s seat. The minute we stepped off the plane, he got out of the car and opened our doors.

“Did you have a nice flight, Mr. Abandonato?”

I dared not look at Val.

“It was turbulent,” she answered for me. “But a quick trip.”

Darin nodded his head, pieces of salt and pepper hair fell over his forehead. “Good, I’ll take your bags.”