admitted, smiling at him, my hand raising, carefully tracing above his new scar. "But I think I proved I can take care of myself."
"Knew it the second you cold-cocked me with a whiskey bottle," he told me, smirking. "You alright?" he asked, getting more serious.
"Not a scratch on me, incredibly," I told him, forcing a smile. I was a bit too worn out for a real one. I wasn't sure the last time I got any real sleep.
"Not what I meant. Had a lot of shit go down the past few weeks. You weren't raised in this. It's got to have some impact."
"It probably will," I admitted. "Once I have a shower and some food and some sleep. But I figure you're rich enough to pay for all the therapy I am probably going to need," I said, smiling a little.
"Anything you want," Lorenzo told me, unexpectedly serious, the words more like a vow than anything.
"I was joking," I insisted. "I'm not expecting anything."
"No? You should be," he told me, shrugging.
"I didn't do what I did because I wanted something. Aside from my freedom."
"Well, see, we have a problem there, hellcat."
"What?" I asked, stiffening. "What do you mean?"
"I'm afraid you can have anything you want. Except your freedom."
"Wait a minute—"
Lorenzo's chuckle cut me off. When I looked down, his green eyes were dancing. "Christ. Look at that attitude. Were you going to shoot me with my own gun?" he asked, patting his holster under his jacket.
"I still haven't written the possibility off," I told him, even though we both knew that while I was, apparently, capable of a lot more than I could have ever known, killing him was not on that one of those things. "What do you mean I can't have my freedom?"
"Well, you are free to come and go. To go back to that bakery to work. Whatever you want to do."
"But?"
"But... you come back here at night," he finished, giving my hip a squeeze.
"What? In the basement?" I asked, heart starting to trip into overdrive, having an idea what he was saying, but a part of me needed to hear him spell it out for me.
"In this bed," he clarified. "With me," he added, pulling me closer, then down to straddle his waist, hungry hands starting to roam.
"We don't know each other that well," I insisted, even as every part of me wanted to believe we could make something work.
"We know enough. I know enough. And we will learn more as time goes on," he told me, fingers starting to pull up the back of my shirt. "Say yes," he demanded, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.
He wasn't a man who showed that often, but he had given it to me a few times. The real side of him. The raw part.
Those parts of me responded to it, too, knowing that there wouldn't be a single person on this earth who could ever possibly understand what I had been through over the last few weeks more than Lorenzo. And, what's more, I didn't want anyone else to try.
"Okay. Yes to trying. No to what you are doing with your hands right now," I objected, feeling his fingertips tease the sides of my breasts. "I need to shower," I added, cringing at how much I needed that luxury—a long, hot, soapy shower, and a date with a razor, too, I imagined.
"Mmhmm," he agreed, lips buzzing against my neck as he made the sound. "We can shower. Later. We gotta get dirty first."
There was no way to fight that logic, now, was there?
If there was, I didn't want to figure it out.
So we got dirty.
Then we got clean.
And then we started this strange, scary, wonderful new life together.
Epilogue
Lorenzo - 1 Day
"Go back to bed," Giana snapped at me as soon as my foot stepped into the kitchen.
"Got shit to do, babe," I said, walking up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning down to bite into her neck. "No rest for the wicked," I added, my fingers slipping down to press between her thighs.
Her reaction was immediate, her back leaning into me, her ass wiggling against me, her head falling onto my shoulder as a little mewling noise escaped her.
I was just starting to get used to that sound. I wanted to hear a fuck of a lot more of it in the coming days, weeks, months, years, decades if things went the way I wanted them to.
Because Brio was right.
If there was ever a