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finger down his lean, golden chest, my nose tucked into the hollow of his neck. Beneath the cool sheets, he holds me to him by the waist, lips pressed into my hair.

Our stomachs are covered in a sheen of sweat, our skin attached and moving together with each breath.

I could lay here with him, like this, forever, I think. As his thumb brushes across the indent below one of my ribs, a shiver travels up my spine. My sigh falls onto his jaw.

I don't want my mind to travel from the perfection of this moment. I don't want to think about the police, or prison, or Marco, or any of it. But it nags at the back of my mind.

Nero's fingers reach under my chin, pulling my face up to meet his. His eyes are that same dark brown, golden flecks dancing around the edges of his dilated pupils. "Dolcezza," he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice travelling through my skin. "What are you worrying about, carina?"

I can't get over how well he can read me. The last couple years, I've become very good at hiding things. But I have never been able to fool him, and now is no exception.

"You." I push a hand through the thickness of his messy hair, my lips resting next to his. "I can't help it." I feel the flutter of his eyelashes fall against my cheek. "I don't know how to make it stop."

He nudges me onto my back, resting his arms on each side of my head and hovering above me. My body lights up everywhere we touch. The tenderness of my breasts resting against the hardness of his chest, my belly stuck to his. We fit together, perfectly.

Nero raises an eyebrow. He keeps our gazes fixed as he presses his lips onto my collar, onto my shoulder. The softness of them sends a tickling ache somewhere lower. "How about now?"

"Still."

A small, rough sound rumbles low in his throat. He trails his lips and nose down, to the valley between my breasts. His eyes sparkle. "Now?"

My breaths are becoming shallow. "Still." But I crave his touch, want to feel his mouth and fingers against the tips of my chest and in the slickness between my thighs. The anticipation and hunger are beginning to drown away the uneasiness, and he knows this.

His palm rests against my side, slides slowly upwards until his fingers touch the bottom of my breast. He watches my face as he dips his head lower, takes a taught nipple into his wet mouth, the rough pad of his thumb rolling across the other. A small gasp. His hands are warm as he cups the swell of my breasts, and the ache between my legs intensifies.

I can feel his growing hardness. Small whimpers escape me as he drags his lips down my stomach, teasingly slow, fingers gripping my hips as he slides down my naked body.

"What about now?"

My skin flushes as his eyes take in the wetness between my legs, his nose resting against the inside of my thigh. I watch him, feel his breath warm against the center of me. My voice is barely audible. "What?" What's left of my brain is focused on him, on what he's about to do to me. I have to make an effort to remember what we're talking about, and when I do I brush it away with ease.

He smirks. I'm too turned on to care about his smugness, about anything except him, this. "Please, Nero," I whisper, my legs parting so I can almost feel him against me at the apex. He grips my thighs and moves closer, still somehow not touching me yet.

The way his hooded eyes gaze hungrily at the space between my legs makes my flesh melt into the mattress. He inhales the scent of me, still teasing. Now all I can think about is how desperately I need him to touch me. "You smell so sweet, Rosalina."

My chest rises and falls rapidly with my labored breathing. I'm prepared to beg some more but I don't have to because... ahh. I cry out when he presses his mouth onto me, his rough hands around my thighs tugging me close against his lips. The sounds that I make as his tongue licks every inch of skin on the outside of me and then pushes inside are unintelligible, nonsensical.

He nips and sucks and kisses every fold, every wet piece of flesh between my legs. I writhe against his face, against his bed, pleasure filling every nerve until the pressure climbs higher and higher and I reach a blinding, shattering climax, his wetness and my wetness coating his lips and between my thighs.

He kisses his way back up my body and my skin puckers sensitively beneath his touch.

When I let my eyes finally flutter open again, the waves of bliss slowly floating away, the look of triumph on his face makes me laugh, just a little. "You look very pleased with yourself," I say hoarsely.

"So do you." As he rests on top of me, I feel his erection heavy between my legs and I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "Rosalyn," he breathes into my ear, and there's something dark in his low, quiet voice that makes my insides clench. "I am going to fuck you so hard and so deep that you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

I let out a small gasp, watching the dangerous glint in his eye. His lips tilt upwards knowingly. "Now what are you worrying about, dolcezza?"

"Bastard," I mumble, but my insides have turned into a soft, aching pile of mush. I part my legs around him and he chuckles into my ear because I am very, very wet for him again.

I expect him to push himself into me but he leans away and I almost moan with disappointment.

He reaches into a drawer for a condom, a small, rough laugh filling his throat, amused at my eagerness. "You won't be so excited in the morning, carina."

I should be a little worried. But there's a clenching between my legs that wants this, badly. He settles his length at my entrance, and an impatient sigh leaves my mouth. Against my lips he mumbles, "Aren't you going to ask me to be gentle, gioia?"

I bite my lip, shake my head, tilt my hips upwards. This time, he doesn't tease me. He thrusts into me, hard, and we both moan out from the fullness of us, pressed together everywhere. My fingers tangle into his hair and he kisses me roughly, our mouths battling as his hips move in fast, heavy movements, hitting the deepest parts of me. I hold him tightly, our arms and legs tangled together. It sounds so sinful, skin against skin, as I meet each thrust with my own. My teeth scrape against his jaw, his mouth leaves bruises against my neck, my fingers dig marks into his back. Oh.

"Fuck, Rosalyn," he pants into my shoulder as I finally tighten around him. Our movements become less frantic, my fingers still in his hair. The flash of heat from my orgasm pulls him over the edge and he finishes inside me. With a couple final thrusts, I come again, crying out his name.

I don't move, neither does he. His heaviness feels comforting on top of me, breaths escaping his parted lips and falling onto my neck. I give into the full feeling of the tender, aching waves of pleasure at my centre, the way my limp muscles melt into the mattress. A contented sigh falls from my mouth.

Nero eventually rolls off of me, tugs me close to his side. Into my hair he mumbles, "Being inside you fixes everything, cuore mio." The tips of his fingers float across my back. "The world doesn't matter. Only you."

My heart thuds painfully in my chest, squeezing from his words. I tilt my head upwards to kiss him softly on the mouth. My voice sounds broken when I mumble into his lips. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

His fingers in my hair hold me close. "Even if I deserve it?"

He still blames himself for everything, hasn't let it go yet.

"Nero," I breathe into his neck, "I've forgiven you. Forgive yourself." There's a tenseness in his shoulders. I press away the knots with my fingers.

"I'm working on it."

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