Chapter 18

Unspoken Desires - Chapter 18

Gabriella

It was nearly two in the morning by the time we wrapped the plan with Damian and Matteo.

Starting tomorrow, everything was going to get real. No more talking, no more theory. We had one shot to get it right, and we all needed to be sharp.

I was heading back up to the room Lessia and I were sharing when I heard my phone ringing in the distance. Still where I’d left it on the dresser. I hadn’t looked at it all day.

By now, both Dad and Zio had definitely found the note I’d left for them and were probably halfway to having aneurysms. Blaming Mom and Zia for spoiling me, no doubt.

But they didn’t care what I wanted, so why should I?

Good thing I’d remembered to turn off my location before I left. Let them sweat.

“Gabby, you didn’t tell your parents, or mine? They are worried and asking me where you are?” Vincent’s voice stopped me as I passed his door.

I turned slightly and glanced in. Max was sitting on the bed, pretending not to listen. But he failed miserably. The second he heard my voice, he looked up, eyes tracking every move I made.

“I did not. And you won’t either. And no; I’m not marrying the future Capo of the Outfit,” I said, locking my gaze away from the one man who could break me if I let him.

“Gabby, you can’t do this,” Vincent said, rising from the chair and stepping into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

Without missing a beat, I turned and walked into my room, knowing he’d follow. Once he was inside, I shoved him in further and slammed the door shut. Jamming a chair under the handle to keep it closed.

That should hold him. Well, hopefully Lessia will. Because I needed this time to talk to Max.

“You’re not leaving that room until you and Lessia work this love thing out,” I called through the door. “And don’t even think about disturbing me and Max. We need to have a serious talk.”

Then I turned, walked into Max’s room, and shut the door behind me. I locked it. Bolted it too. My pulse was already thundering through my chest.

He shot up from the bed like he’d been burned, eyes wide, backing away like I’d come in swinging.

“Gabby, you can’t be here. We can’t be alone together.”

I froze. Then I laughed; sharp and bitter. “Fuck you, Max.”

His expression flickered. Pain, shame, maybe even guilt, but I didn’t stop.

“Why the hell do you, or my dad, or my Zio get to decide what I do? You said you loved me. You said you wanted to be with me.”

“You said you wouldn’t sleep with me until we were married. And I fucking listened. Do you know what that did to me? How many nights I walked away aching? How many times I begged you with my eyes, and you just smiled and said ‘Goodnight, Gabby’, like I was some goddamn cousin, not the girl you said you loved?”

“In the last year we’ve been together, I barely saw you. And when I did, you treated me like I was some fragile little treasure instead of your girlfriend.”

He opened his mouth, but I wasn’t finished.

“Do you know how insane it made me? How hard I tried to get any kind of intimacy out of you? How many times I walked away aching for more than a kiss, only to get a polite ‘good night’ like I was your fucking cousin instead of the woman you said you wanted?”

I blinked fast, jaw clenching, hands shaking.

“And that day, when we finally got to second base before Zio barged in, you didn’t fight for me. You let him believe you took advantage of me. And then you broke up with me like I was some reckless little girl you had to protect instead of your fucking partner.”

I choked back a sob and spat the last words like venom. “Fuck you, Maximus Nazzaro. You don’t fucking deserve me.”

I turned on my heel; furious, humiliated, done. My hands trembled as I fumbled with the deadbolt, vision blurring.

Then I felt him. His hand closed around my wrist.

“Gabby…”

“Don’t,” I whispered, not turning around.

But he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me back, spun me into his arms, and kissed me. Hard.

It was intense. Desperate. Raw. His mouth crashed onto mine like he’d been drowning for years and I was the only breath he had left. His hands gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear.

I felt everything in that kiss; his guilt, his longing, his need, his love.

I didn’t hold back. I kissed him like I hated him and needed him at the same time, fingers tangled in his hair, heart thundering, knees barely holding me up.

We didn’t speak. We couldn’t. We just felt. Because we had lost a year. And neither of us was letting go tonight.

————

Vincent

The second I heard the scrape of the chair wedging under the handle, I knew I’d been set up. Typical Gabriella. No room for debate. Just lock people in a room and expect emotional clarity to magically appear.

She really thought locking me in with Lessia would magically fix… whatever this is?

I stood there, staring at the door like it might swing open and let me escape.

“Work through the love thing,” she’d said. What love thing?

Lessia and I had known each other our whole lives. She was smart, fierce, loyal to a fault, and yeah, I trusted her more than most people. But that didn’t mean it was love.

She’d been gone for years, undercover, living some other life. She’d basically admitted to dating that Camorra asshole; the one who tried to blow us all up last year.

We barely talked while she was away. She didn’t even tell me where she was going. And when I saw her again in Vegas, I was glad. My friend was back. But it wasn’t some warm reunion. It was tactical. Complicated. Not romantic. We were on a mission to rescue Sareena.

I sighed and turned away from the door, about to pace the room, when the bathroom door opened. And everything stopped.

Lessia stepped out in nothing but a towel, barely covering her. Her hair was wet, water dripping down one shoulder. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the shower. The towel clung to every curve, like it knew it was fighting a losing battle.

My jaw dropped. I wish I could say I caught it quickly. I didn’t. I always knew she had a great body; objectively. But this wasn’t objective. This was… something else. She was something else.

Her eyes locked on mine and she froze. “What the hell are you doing in here?” she asked, voice sharp and very aware that she was half-naked.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. I tried again. “Gabby,” I managed. “Gabby locked me in.”

Her eyes narrowed. “She what?”

“She said we need to talk about this… uh, love thing between us.” I gestured vaguely. “I didn’t know you were in here.”

“I was showering, Vincent.”

“Yeah. I… can tell.”

She blinked like she couldn’t decide whether to throw something or vanish.

Then, without a word, she turned and slammed the bathroom door shut behind her.

I didn’t move. What the hell was I supposed to do now? Knock? Apologize? Pretend I hadn’t just memorized every inch of skin I wasn’t supposed to see?

I stayed where I was, pulse thudding in my ears. Now I was stuck in a room with a furious woman and a very vivid mental image I couldn’t unsee.

Gabby was out of her damn mind. But… maybe she was onto something. I just didn’t know what.

I stared at the bathroom door for a full minute. Then I rubbed the back of my neck, exhaled, and walked toward it.

“Lessia…” I knocked lightly. “Hey, look… it wasn’t that bad, okay? You were covered.”

Silence.

“I didn’t see anything.”

Still nothing.

“And even if I had… I mean, you’re fine. Totally fine. It’s not like I’d want to see my chubby little friend naked anyway. You know, I like my girls thin, so you’re good.”

The bathroom door exploded open.

Before I could blink, she launched herself at me. Two sharp hits to the chest, one to the side of my face, and suddenly we were falling back onto the bed. Her towel somehow stayed on. Miracle of miracles, but her fists did not.

“Fat?! Fat?! You think I’m fat?” she yelled, voice cracking, eyes wild and wet. “You asshole!”

She kept hitting me. Arms. Shoulders. Chest. Pounding out every ounce of fury she’d clearly been bottling up. But I didn’t feel a thing. She was straddling my waist, hair dripping, face flushed, chest heaving. I was captivated. Completely.

I could’ve stopped her. Should have. But all I could think was how damn beautiful she looked.

I reached up, hand sliding into her damp hair, the other curling around her back. Then I flipped her. Fast. Smooth. Now she was under me.

She gasped, breath catching, but I didn’t give her a second to think.

“I didn’t mean, God, Lessia, I was joking. A bad one. I was trying to… lighten the mood?”

Then I kissed her. Hard.

—————-

Lessia

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I’d just come out of the shower. My towel was slipping. My head wasn’t in the right place. But none of that mattered when Vincent kissed me. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t patient. It was desperate.

He claimed my mouth like he was starving for it, and I gave in like a woman who’d been dying of thirst.

When he flipped me onto my back, I didn’t fight it. I didn’t push him away. I reached for him, pulled him closer, felt the weight of his body press into mine and didn’t care that I was still wet, still barely dressed, still shaking.

I moaned into his mouth, hips lifting instinctively, towel parting beneath us. His hands slid down my sides, rough and reverent, like he couldn’t believe I was real. I felt his fingers tremble as they explored every inch of skin I’d dreamed he’d touch.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was everything we’d both held back for far too long.

Vincent tore his shirt off, his mouth never leaving mine, and I ran my hands over the muscles I used to imagine late at night when I was undercover, when I was lonely, when I was scared.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my lips, voice hoarse.

I shook my head.

“Lessia, if I start this…”

“I’m not stopping,” I breathed.

He groaned, deep and guttural, the sound of a man barely holding himself back and then he was gone.

His mouth left mine, trailing heat down my jaw, throat, collarbone; branding me with every kiss. He didn’t rush. He savored. Teeth grazed the top swell of my breast, and I gasped; already panting, already trembling.

He didn’t speak. Just stared up at me with that dark, heated gaze before taking my nipple between his lips and sucking hard. I arched beneath him, a moan catching in my throat as sparks raced down my spine. His tongue circled, teased, tasted, then moved lower, dragging heat down the center of my body until I couldn’t breathe.

My towel slipped open, falling to the side, like silk.

I didn’t care.

Not with the way his hands gripped my thighs. Strong and commanding, spreading me wide, exposing me completely. Not with the way he looked at me there… like I was something sacred. Like this was the moment he’d waited for every night we’d been apart.

Then he lowered his head. And everything exploded.

His mouth found me in one greedy, perfect stroke. Hot, wet, hungry. His tongue flicked over my clit, slow at first, then deeper, firmer, circling and sucking until I was writhing beneath him. I cried out, my hips bucking, fingers tangled in his hair as I chased that wave of pleasure that built higher with every stroke.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t falter. He devoured me. His lips locked on my center like he couldn’t get enough, like he was trying to make up for every second he hadn’t been able to touch me. He moaned against me, sending vibrations through my core, and I shattered. My back arching off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat as I came on his tongue, sharp and uncontrollable.

I didn’t come back to earth until he was crawling up my body, his lips glistening, his eyes wild, his body tight with restraint.

And God, I wanted him.

I wrapped my legs around him, dragging his hips against mine, feeling the thick, hard length of him press against my slick heat. I needed him inside me. Needed all of him.

“Now,” I begged, voice breaking. “Please. I can’t wait.”

His control snapped.

With one thrust, he filled me; deep and hard, the stretch delicious and overwhelming. I cried out, pleasure punching through me as my walls clenched around him. He groaned, burying his face in my neck as he pulled back and slammed into me again, harder this time.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was brutal. Desperate.

A collision of everything we were; lust, pain, history, love.

His hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he drove into me, over and over, hitting that perfect spot that made me see stars. My nails raked down his back, my body rising to meet his, sweat and heat tangling us together in a rhythm that felt like war and worship at once.

I gasped his name, over and over, and he answered with his body. Thrusting deeper, faster, like he couldn’t get close enough.

I was gone. Drowning in him. Burning alive.

And I never wanted it to stop.