Bare Reflections Novels & Stories

“You want this,” Leo murmured, his thumb slowly tracing the nape of my neck. His face hovered dangerously close to mine, so close that I forgot how to breathe. A gasp escaped me when he pushed my dress higher, exposing my thighs as his hands settled between them. I turned my head away, trying to escape the intensity of his gaze, the way it seemed to see straight through me. “Your body says otherwise,” he said softly. His lips trailed down my neck, leaving a path of heat behind until they reached my bare chest. The sensation sent a sharp shiver down my spine. Goosebumps erupted across my skin as I inhaled sharply. I tried to speak, but the words refused to come. He had that effect on me. When his tongue brushed and sucked on my nipple, a soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. “You’re trembling,” he whispered against my skin. I shouldn’t be here. I should stay away from this man. But he had already worked his way into my thoughts, invading them every single day. My body betrayed me, responding to him in ways I couldn’t control. It was supposed to be one night. I swallowed, forcing the words out as his fingers rubbed my core, making me arch forward instinctively against him. “I don’t want you.” “Interesting,” Leo said lazily, his finger hooking lightly against the strap of my thong. “Because you’re still here.” My eyes fluttered closed as a wave of sensation rushed through me. I was lying, and he knew it. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Leo,” I whispered. He leaned closer, his voice low and steady. “Give me one good reason, and I’ll stop.” “Because… you’re my best friend’s fiancé.”

"A woman like you? No fucking way you're a virgin." "Who said virgins can't be filthy, Rocco?" DIANA SANTORO: Five years locked inside a convent. Not because I was holy. Because the family I was born into is dangerous. My name is Diana Santoro. Mafia blood. And in this world, daughters like me get hidden away until the war is over. Now my brother’s the Don. And he wants me back. The man he sent to collect me? Rocco Moretti. The most feared monster in Italy. The devil of Cosa Nostra. They say he pulls confessions out of men with his bare hands—then sleeps like a baby afterward. Three days on the road. Just us. He’s expecting some scared little nun-in-training, ready to be escorted quietly back to my gilded cage. He has no idea that the only innocent thing about me is this face. **** ROCCO MORETTI: Forty-seven men. That's how many I've killed. Tortured more than double that. Never lost a minute of sleep over any of them. So why does this girl—with her innocent eyes and that smart mouth—make me feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind around every bend of this road? Last night, at some roadside motel, she walked into my room. Ran her fingers over my tattoos, looked up at me with this smirk, and told me she wasn't wearing underwear. What the hell does she want? To destroy me? To see how far she can push before I snap? She's a virgin. Untouched. Off-limits. The one thing a man like me can never have. But when she looks at me like that—wearing that short dress, lips parted just enough—I forget who I am. I forget I'm the monster. And I start wanting, with everything in me, to be the one who ruins her. Even if it costs me my life. Even if it costs me everything.

The night before high school graduation, Ethan Luciano pulled me into his bedroom. His hands were rough, his touch demanding, yet my heart overflowed with a decade's worth of unspoken longing. I'd loved Ethan for ten years, and finally, it seemed my silent wishes had come true. Afterwards, as we lay tangled in his sheets, he whispered that he'd marry me after graduation. Once he took over the Luciano family's empire from his father, he'd make me the most cherished woman in the family. I believed him. The next morning, I sat curled up against his bare chest as he casually told my foster brother, Lucas, about us. My cheeks were flushed, and my heart raced, still clinging to the sweetness of the night before. However, then their conversation shifted into Italian. Lucas smirked, leaning back against the doorframe. "Not bad, Young Boss. Your first time, and the school's 'it girl' just threw herself at you. So, how's my little sister taste?" Ethan gave a lazy chuckle. "Looks like an angel, but a freak in the sheets. Who would’ve thought?" The room erupted in low, conspiratorial laughter. Lucas raised a brow. "So, should I call her my little sister or my future sister-in-law?" Ethan’s tone darkened, his arm tightening around my waist for a moment. Then he let out a sigh. "She’s nothing. Just practice," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I’m trying to hook up with the cheer captain, Sylvia Dawson, but I don’t want her thinking I’m clueless in bed. Cynthia Saville’s just a warm-up." He paused. "But don’t tell Sylvia. I don’t need her getting all emotional." They didn't know that I’d spent months secretly learning Italian, preparing for the life I thought I’d share with Ethan. I didn't say a word. Later that day, I quietly withdrew my early decision application to Caltech and applied to MIT instead.