Marked For Love (Mob Romance) (16 page)

Grace wondered if his allowing her to comfort him the previous day hadn’t just been a fluke. Since she’d let the man go, he hadn’t even made eye contact with her, mulling around the room in an effort to busy himself with tasks that didn’t really exist. He no doubt found himself, for the first time in his life, without a particular purpose, and she couldn’t judge him for the way he dealt with it.

She’d
been struggling to accept the fact that her father cared so little for her that he’d allow her to die rather than ponying up money he already owed. While, outwardly, she had told Vicente directly that she’d known what would happen, still, small part of her had held out hope. At least, she’d held out until she’d been proved right.

Her entire life, all she’d wanted was for the man to show his love for her – just once. Now, any and all chance of that had been taken from her. She’d be hunted for the rest of her life – almost certain never to see either of her parents again.

The strange thing was: Grace found herself oddly relieved.

She would never have to deal with their false promises – with wondering whether or not they were thinking of her as she worried about them. All of that was over. Now, she had a life full of dangerous inexplicable intrigue to look forward to. She had been to places she never had before – and undoubtedly, she would see much more before it was all over.

All at the side of an intensely complicated man coming to terms with his intensely complicated past.

She should be writing a goddamn book.

It would, at least, take her mind from the man who threatened to drive her insane with a combination of innate tension and arousal. If Grace had thought that having him in the same suite was bad, watching his every move was torturous. From the moment she’d first lain eyes on him, the young woman had been drawn to him – against all odds and reason. Now, to see his long form laid out over the small bed – to feel his warmth when they slept…

It was almost unbearable.

If he didn’t speak soon, she’d resolve herself to mentally undressing him for the rest of the foreseeable future, and that couldn’t lead anywhere particularly proprietary.

It was drawing close to the thirty six hour mark when she collapsed to bed, sure that even if they travelled together for the next hundred years that she and Vicente would never really understand one another.

That was the point where he rolled over in bed to face her, his grey eyes locking with hers in an instant. Grace flushed, never more aware than in that moment of her plain cotton nightgown and unkempt hair.

“Your father is a fool.”

Grace’s eyes widened in surprise. “He is worse, even, than Giorgio. At least he values those he truly loves. Your father loves no one but himself.”

A detail Grace should have made peace with long ago. However, here, now, with the utterance leaving Vicente’s lips, she suddenly found her eyes welling with unexpected tears.

Ignacio
was
a fool. A fool of
massive
proportions. And Grace had spent her entire life trying to please him. All it had gotten her was heartache and strife. “You’re right.” She whispered hoarsely, dashing moisture from her cheeks. “I’m just sorry it took so long for me to see it.”

“I’m not.” Vicente’s abrupt rebuttal had the young woman raising halfway from the bed in disbelief.

He
wasn’t
sorry she’d suffered most of her life under the thumb of her inept parents? That was unspeakably cruel, even for a man with a history of murder. “I’m not sorry. If you hadn’t endured the difficulties you had, we would never have met.”

Grace stared at the man, at a loss for words.

Was Vicente implying that he was glad they had crossed paths? After weeks of tiptoeing around one another, warring with their inner demons and finally running for their lives, he was
happy
to have met her?

She had no idea how to answer such a statement.

Luckily enough for the young woman, Vicente didn’t let the silence linger for long. Reaching forward, the assassin cupped her face in his palm, drawing it forward firmly to press his mouth to hers. Grace stiffened in surprise for the barest moment before melting against him, fire racing through her veins as his tongue sought her own.

He had never kissed her like this – slow and leisurely instead of torrid and harsh. Not that she’d minded the demanding way he’d taken her mouth before. It had been tantalizing in a way all its own – the force and the submission.

But this was different.

Vicente’s hand smoothed over her shoulder, clutching her to him as their tongues tangled. Within a moment she was flat on her back on the bed, the assassin looming over her. When Grace raised her gaze to his, she found his eyes gleaming in heated anticipation.

He wanted her – and this time, there was no need to exercise discretion.

Grace’s arms slid around his neck and she clung to him as he nipped and kissed at her lips. Her body trembled in awareness as the man’s mouth dropped from her own to the line of her throat. When Vicente had kissed her before, he’d left bruises – red nips and marks of possession that had lingered for days afterwards. Now, when his mouth moved over her neck, it was slow and deliberate, every press of his lips lighting a fire where they contacted her skin.

Her cotton nightgown was no match for Vicente’s dexterous hands; within moments, he slid the garment from her shoulders to pool on the floor beside the bed, leaving her clad in nothing more than a pair of simple, white lace panties.

When the man looked down at her now, Grace found that she couldn’t so easily read his expression as she had before. Whenever Vicente had taken hold of her in the past, his eyes had been desperate – almost angry; and the way he fucked her had reflected that. He had been all blind desire and a groping need to dominate.

Now, the hands that cupped her breasts were almost gentle – his expression hesitant.

Vicente Acconci – hesitant with a woman. She doubted it would be something anyone but she could fathom. The man lowered his head, trailing his mouth down the center of her chest until he reached the valley of her breasts. From there, he worked his way upwards towards a peak in a series of soft bites and kisses that had her squirming in sensation. When he finally latched onto her nipple, a low cry of desire escaped her.

He teased the taut, erect flesh with his teeth and tongue until she was gasping, her fingers curled into the material of his silk shirt for purchase. Vicente groaned low, torturously against her skin, the sound reverberating through her so she arched against him, panting softly. When he finally released her, she could feel the moisture leaking from her adhering the thin material of her panties to her lower lips.

Looking down at her with an unblinking gray stare, Vicente teased her opposite aureole with his thumb and forefinger. The intensity of his gaze made the young woman blush. When her lover spoke, his deep accented tones went straight to the core of her, making her breathless with desire “My apologies if I hurt you…before.”

Just thinking of “before” had Grace pressing her thighs together in desire. “It’s alright.” She managed as he lowered his head once more to circle the tip of her breast with his tongue. “I liked before.”

When he raised his gaze to hers again, the man’s full mouth was curved into a wicked smile. Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen him so much as smirk before, and the effect was utterly devastating. “That was because you weren’t aware of the alternative.”

“And what’s the…what’s the alternative?” As one of the assassin’s hands worked its way down over her stomach towards the crux of her legs, Grace found it harder and harder to concentrate.

“Having you all night – until you cannot remember your name or where you came from – or anything but the feel of me inside of you.”

Well, as much as she had enjoyed things the first two times around, that particular offer was one she couldn’t refuse. Not that she was given the opportunity. At that particular moment, Vicente’s hand delved beneath the hem of her drenched underwear to find her hot, wet and wanting. Grace moaned as his fingers slid over the length of her womanhood – back and forth until she thought she might lose her mind with the delectation of the movements.

Then, two fingers delved within her clenching passage and her thighs clamped shut around Vicente’s hand in an effort to keep him in place. The long digits expertly plied her depths, curling upward to rub against a place that made the young woman’s vision white out momentarily. When he touched it again, she cried his name loudly, thrashing against the mattress beneath her.

Vicente’s mouth busied itself once more with the peak of her breast, stimulating her with enticing tugs of his teeth even as his fingers threatened to drive her wild. Grace felt her body winding tighter and tighter, until she was on the precipice of a truly life altering orgasm. Then, without warning, Vicente clamped down on her nipple, rubbing the tiny spot within her brusquely so her orgasm crashed over her with near blinding force.

Trembling violently, Grace clung to Vicente, riding out the length of an orgasm that seemed to go on and on until it left her a quivering, mindless mass against the coverlet beneath her.

When she could see straight again, the sight that greeted her only doubled the aching desire between her legs. Vicente was stripping out of his shirt and slacks, revealing the lean, strong body that had haunted her dreams. Shoulders and arms bristling with muscle, minute waist and sinewy, toned legs.

By the time he joined her on the bed once more, Grace was reaching for him, anxious to feel him within her. She reached down to wrap her fingers around the length of his pulsing erection, moaning softly as he thrust into her hand with abandon. The man’s face was contorted, as he’d never allowed it before, with the pleasure he felt.

He was always in control – of his hostages, his victims and himself. Grace was proud to be the first to help him see that a loss of control could be just as fulfilling.

She trailed her lips over his shoulder and down his chest, worshipping the firm muscle tone she found there. Vicente made soft, low sounds of encouragement in the back of his throat that made her tights quiver in anticipation. His arms encircled her to curl into her behind, pulling her flush against him as his lips found hers once more.

Then, he was rolling them over until he lie on his back, she hovering above him, gazing down at the man who let no one dominate him. For a moment, Grace was so humbled by the power she’d been given that she simply stared at him in disbelief. That was, at least, until the man’s erection jutted against her behind, reminding her of her purpose.

Grace rose onto her knees, taking hold of Vicente’s member to slide it back and forth over her slick cleft until the man groaned. It was nice, for once, to know that she was driving him equally as insane as he was her. With that knowledge in mind, she sank down onto him, taking his full length and breadth until she was seated against his pelvis, her inner muscles contracting around him.

God, being with a man had never felt so
right
. Grace wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it was love – not yet - but she cared for Vicente. She wanted him to be able to live a life free of the shackles Giorgio Acconci had placed on him – just as she had always longed to be free of her parents’ influence.

The young woman’s body undulated atop his, taking him in at a languid rhythm that had the man beneath her gripping her hips firmly, guiding her down onto his erection with more and more force until she was crying out with every thrust. The young woman shuddered and moaned, clinging to Vicente’s shoulders as she rocked her hips faster and faster, every movement driving her closer to the brink.

All at once, the man reached out to find the engorged bud of her pleasure just above where they were joined. His fingers fastened onto it, rubbing over it in minute, firm circles until Grace came apart, her entire body quivering like bowstring.

The young woman sagged forward as her orgasm washed over, her forehead resting on her lover’s chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Dear sweet Jesus – as much as she’d enjoyed hard and rough, there was definitely something to be said when it came to Vicente’s slow, sweet seduction.

A low sound of surprise escaped her as Vicente carefully lifted her from him to lie her on her back against the coverlet. Then, he was kissing her again, his hands roving her body relentlessly until she moaned, hopelessly aroused.

The assassin was still erect, his member bobbing against his stomach as he plucked at the heavy warmth of his breasts. He lifted her hips from the bed, settling himself in between as he stared down at her with eyes darkened in lust.

“I said all night, Grace, and I meant it.” His dark hair hung down in a curtain, framing his breathtaking face as he promised her pleasure like none she’d ever know. “I’m far from done with you.”

Chapter Eight: Conviction

Their time in Prague was the most idyllic Vicente had spent since the days he and his mother had been alone in the world. Then, she had poured her love upon him when she was able, convincing him that they’d needed no man to complete their family.