Beast I Can’t Tame by L.K. Shaw
Chapter 27
Francesca
Something’s wrong.I can tell by Giovanni’s expression and tone of voice.
“Of course you can,” I snag his shirt, pull him inside, and close the door.
He lets me lead him into the living room, and he nearly collapses on the couch. His gaze is unfocused as though he’s lost in his thoughts. There are lines of fatigue, and something else, on his face. I hurry into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water out of the fridge. He takes it from me and drinks the whole thing dry.
“Thanks,” Gio says, passing it back. He sags into the cushions and closes his eyes with a weighty sigh.
I set it on the coffee table and sit down, turning to face him. He’s scaring me. “Is everything okay?”
The tense silence between us is thick and nearly chokes me.
“I killed someone tonight,” he says in a flat monotone. He doesn’t even open his eyes.
My heart drops. Oh, no. I swallow. Violence is a part of this life. We’ve both seen our fair share of it. That doesn’t mean it gets easier.
“Is this the first time?” I bet it is.
Gio nods.
“I’m sorry you had to do that.”
He blows out a breath. “Yeah, me too.”
What else do I say? Is there anything I can say? I’ve never been in this position before. Having to comfort someone. Pierce never came straight home after a night of business. He’d gone to his mistress's house. Mila’s the one who takes care of him these days.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Gio says quietly. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about. We raided a building full of Armenians, and I killed one of them. The end.”
Not knowing what else to do, I scoot to the other end of the couch and gently draw him down until he’s on his back with his head in my lap. Not once since he sat down has he opened his eyes. My heart hurts for him. I can’t imagine what he’s feeling. I run my fingers through his hair, threading the silky curls between them.
Gio sighs, and it’s filled with so much emotion. I don’t want to push him to talk if he doesn’t want to. That thought sticks with me, because it’s the same advice I gave Mila about Anya. It’s what Theresa did for me. All I can do is be here for him. Let him know I care. If, and when, he’s ready, I’ll be here to listen. So, we sit in the darkened room—silent—while I continue to stroke his scalp lightly with my fingernails.
Time passes. So much that my eyes grow drowsy. Is Gio sleeping? I don’t want to wake him if he is. He probably needs the rest. I shift the tiniest bit, just to get a little more comfortable, and he jerks. At last, his eyes open, and he stares up at me. Even with only the light from the lamp on the side table, the pain in his gaze is impossible to miss.
I want to do whatever I can to ease it, so I lean down and brush my lips across each eye. His lashes flutter shut. Then a kiss to his nose until I feather flittering touches along his mouth. I keep them gentle. Soft. Putting all the care—all the love—I can into them, and hope he feels it.
I sit upright and palm his cheek before slipping out from under his head and coming to my feet. He rises to sitting and gazes up at me. There’s no thought to what I’m doing. My heart is making all the decisions tonight and overruling my head. I reach out a hand, and then Gio’s grasping it. With the barest tug, I pull him to his feet and head for my bedroom, not stopping until we reach my bed.
I release my hold on him, and a moment later there’s a soft click. The darkness is broken up by the light of the lamp. Half of him is in the shadows. Still, he’s beautiful. A combination of light and dark. Past and present. Two parts that make up a whole.
With a deep breath, I reach up and begin to unbutton his shirt. His hands close over mine and that intense expression on his face deepens. “You don’t have to do this.”
Yes, I do. “I want to.”
Giovanni holds onto me for several more heartbeats before he drops his hands at his side, and I continue my task. With each inch of skin I expose, my mouth grows drier, until every button is undone. Then, I push the fabric over his shoulders and tug it off his arms. I toss it onto the floor, my gaze never leaving the dark curls covering his chest. They appear soft and springy and my fingers itch to touch them.
On his left side, right above where his heart lies, and partially hidden beneath that patch of hair, a delicate crown is inked into his skin. The Brooklyn Kings crest. A symbol of loyalty to the organization. I remember seeing it on my father’s and brother’s chest. Rumor has it that if someone betrays the syndicate, Jacob burns it off their body before they bury them. I shiver at that.
“Are you sure about this?” Giovanni asks quietly.
My head jerks up and I meet his gaze. I smile to reassure him. “I’m positive. I was just thinking about your tattoo,”—my fingers finally connect with his skin and trace the pattern there—“and what it means.”
He’s warm to the touch. I can only imagine how much hotter he’ll get before the night is over. Another shiver travels down my spine, but this one settles low inside my core, bringing Gio’s heat with it. A throbbing begins deep down.
“The day I got this was one of the best of my life. It meant I finally belonged to something. I’ll never regret becoming a Brooklyn King.”
There’s something in his tone. “But?” I ask.
He jerks the tiniest bit as though he can’t believe I heard the hesitation in his voice.
“But there are times I wonder if it’s worth all the things that come with it. The violence. The killing. The worrying that those I care about the most could be taken from me in a heartbeat. It’ll never end. There will always be someone who wants to take from us,” Giovanni says tiredly.
“It’s not easy being a member of this family. I don’t just mean being related to Jacob. I mean the entire syndicate. It comes with more risks than a normal one. There’s pain and suffering. But there’s also hope and love. There’s good and bad with anything in this world. Regrets are wasted. Instead, we need to focus on what brings us the most happiness.” I rise up on tiptoes and loop my arms around the back of his neck. “I don’t regret you becoming a King. We may not have ever met otherwise.”
Giovanni’s hands go to my waist, his grip strong and firm, yet gentle. He pulls me tighter to him, crushing my breasts against his chest. “Nothing on this earth would have kept me from finding you. We were always meant to be together. Whether I initiated or not. Our paths would have crossed somehow no matter what. Deep down, I know this.”
I’ve been falling for him for months, but with his heated declaration I’m lost. Completely and utterly. Gio owns my heart. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice gravelly with emotion.
Whether he moves first or I do, I’m not sure, but our lips meet. He claims my mouth with the same gentle firmness in which he holds me. It only serves to increase my arousal. My nipples harden against his chest, and I rub them across his skin generating friction to try and soothe the ache. Giovanni’s hands grip my hips and the hard line of his cock presses into my stomach increasing the burn inside my core. I need him like I need to take another breath.
His tongue glides along the seam of my mouth, and I part it for him. He takes control of the kiss, deepening it and drawing more and more arousal from me. I’ve given him my heart—my love— and before the night is over, he’ll have my body, too. The fear is still there. How can it not be? But the love we have shines brighter than any dark tendrils of the unwanted emotion. Fear can try and snuff out the light, but it won’t win. I won’t let it. Neither with Giovanni.
With a gentle touch, he slips his fingers beneath my shirt hem. Cool air rushes across my belly. He raises the fabric more, past my breasts, and over my head. Next comes my bra, and my upper body is as bare as his. Gio’s gaze is hot, his eyes nearly black as he stares down at me. Every place his gaze touches, my skin burns with a fire only he can put out.
He palms my breast, cradling it ever so gently. The hardened nub tightens even further. A string from there to my core vibrates sending pleasure from one end to the other.
“I can still smell the coconut from the day by the pool,” he says with a note of amusement. “It’s my newest favorite scent. Do you taste like it as well?”
Feeling bold, I cup the back of his neck and pull him down to whisper against his lips. “Feel free to find out.”
Giovanni groans, the rumble adding to the throbbing beat of sensation raging through me. Goosebumps scatter down my arms. He lowers his head and takes my other breast into his mouth, latching his tongue around the pebbled tip and sucking. I clutch him tighter to me as flames of desire shoot straight to my center. Wetness pours from me.
He makes a sound of appreciation before releasing my nipple with a small pop. “Exactly how I imagined you’d taste.”
My flesh heats. “I want to taste you, too,” I say with a mix of boldness and shyness.
In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted anything more. I imagine Gio tastes like smoke and fire. An earthy combination. One that grounds me. Reminds me who’s touching me. Kissing me. Loving me.
“I’m yours,” Gio says gruffly. “Take whatever you need from me.”
I caress his chest, running my fingers through the mat of hair. It’s manly, and I love it. The muscles are hard beneath my touch, and they ripple with each pass over them. I scratch my nails lightly over the skin, and he shudders. I close the small space between us and flick my tongue over his small nub, lapping up his flavor. He taste exactly how I imagined, only better.
The need to explore more of him grows. With barely shaking fingers, I unbutton his pants, and before I lose my nerve, I push them down, taking his underwear with them. I keep my gaze averted from his cock. I’m not ready just yet. I look at his face. One I’ve come to love so much. It’s familiar and comforting. I quickly remove my own pants and then crawl into the bed, holding the covers up for Giovanni.
“Join me,” I invite him.
He moves, sliding in next to me, and I throw the sheet over us, as though wrapping us in a protective cocoon. Just the two of us, with no thoughts of the outside world intruding. Together, we move as one, and once again are in each other’s arms. It feels as though I’m coming home. Hands glide over skin, his and mine. Hard and soft. We fit together like puzzle pieces.
Kisses grow deeper and more passionate. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.
“Touch me,” I murmur against his lips, the words pleading.
He answers my plea with a strong, calloused hand. Gio touches every inch of me. My breasts. My belly. I suck in a sharp breath. My clit throbs and swells beneath his fingertips. He pauses, gauging my reaction. “More?” he asks, his voice gone husky with desire.
“More.”
Gio’s touch glides easily through my wetness. I clutch his biceps tight, keeping my eyes on his, watching his face, seeing his expressions. The love shining from them holds me in the present, especially as a single digit enters me. He slides further inside, going achingly slow, taking his time and building the intense sensations growing inside me.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he grounds out, sweat beading on his forehead.
He’s holding back for me. My hand grabs his wrist and he freezes, his finger still inside me, not moving. Just there. Filling me. I take a few deep breaths. And then, I guide his hand, only for a second, showing him what I want. He learns quickly how to touch me, and the pleasure rises swiftly again.
“More. Faster.” My back arches, pushing harder against his hand. He goes deeper, and there’s a stretch and slight burn as he adds another finger. I ache.
Onward I continue to fly, higher than I ever thought possible. Gio flicks his thumb over my clit, the friction nearly too much. But he does it again and again, while my breath catches in my chest, and I’m free-falling. Tumbling end over end waiting for him to catch me before I crash. Gio’s body lays over mine and he claims my mouth in sweeping kiss as my body still shudders and jerks from the orgasm he wrung from me.
Slowly, I come back down, wrapped safely in his arms. Tears of happiness leak from my eyes. Emotions I’d thought long lost pour out of me.
“Francesca?” he asks, worry evident.
“I love you so much,” I choke out, pulling him tighter against me.
Gio places kisses to my hair, stroking it in a soothing gesture. I’ve never felt so loved or safe before. Finally, my tears slow, and I manage to pull myself together. I pull back and stare at him.
“Will you make love to me, please?”
