Page 39 of Enduring Caine
More than once.
His blood on my hands.
Pacing the waiting room while he was in surgery.
“I’m here.” He took my hand and placed it against his hard pectoral, over his heart.
“The way you fell—” My breath hitched. “—I was so scared, Antonio.”
He stepped backward into the shower, over the low lip of pale blue tiles, holding my hand against him. “Vieni qui, bella.”
The spray hit his back, creating a fine mist that floated around us.
I could have lost him that night.
“We slept alone last night. We were separated by the airline seats the night before. The night before that, I was propped in the chaise in my room, because I couldn’t lie down comfortably.” He turned us to press my back against the cool tiles of the shower. “Tonight, we make love again. And then we sleep in each other’s arms. And I guarantee…”
My leg rose to latch around his hips, his cock rubbing against me. The heat pushed aside the other worries, and I guided him to my entrance. This would distract me. This was what I needed.
“You’ll feel better tomorrow.” He sank his full length deep inside me, stretching me, filling me. Completing my world. “As will I.”
My head dropped back against the wall, and his mouth found my neck as our hips moved. Months ago, I thought my feelings for Antonio made me weak. But they didn’t. They made both of us more than we were alone. “Stronger together, amore.”
Chapter 17
Antonio
“Isitokaylikethis?” Samantha asked, nestling her back against my chest under the covers of my bed. The television played in the background, some action movie with enough gunfire and yelling that it would mask our restrained noises.
Her head lay on my good arm, and my injured one rested around her waist. “The physiotherapist said to do stretches to ensure the muscle heals properly.”
She chuckled. “How far can you stretch it?”
“A little farther, I think.” I couldn’t hold back the groan as I extended the arm until it was nearly straight—and not the good kind of groan I should have made when nestling my hand between her thighs.
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
“Shh, you.” I nipped her shoulder, eliciting the rare Samantha giggle. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Just keep it there.” Her hips rolled against my hand, and she pressed my middle finger down to stroke against her clit. “Is that okay?”
“I’ll tell you if it’s not.”
“No, you won’t, you stubborn man.”
My cock sprang to life, realizing it lay against her bare ass, which was far more interesting to it than the pain screaming up and down my arm. “Orgasms are a natural analgesic.”
A noise somewhere between a chuckle and a gasp escaped her lips.
I let her guide my hand lower, maintaining pressure against her most sensitive spot, until she nudged two of my fingers inside herself.
“Oh, god,” she breathed, riding my fingers, grinding slowly.
I lifted enough to kiss her ear, running my teeth along the shell.
“More,” she whispered, arching her back to invite me inside her. “If it’s okay.”
I removed my fingers and tilted my hips, burying myself in paradise. Our visit should have had more of this and less of the rest of the chaos. More of us. And of love. And of laughter.