Shadow Rider (26 page)

“I didn't care about any other woman, Francesca. Not a single one of them. I used them. They used me. I have a strong sex drive. I'm always hard. Always. I need a woman to give me relief, but I never wanted one for my own. Women were a tool, a body to bury myself in, nothing more. I didn't know how to have them mean more because I just couldn't feel anything at all for them, no matter how much I wanted to or tried. I know that makes me sound like a fucking bastard, but it's the truth and that's what I have to give you—the truth.”

She felt perverse enough to love what he was saying to her, to love that those women sending him pictures didn't mean anything at all.

“I fucked a lot of women, Francesca.”

She winced. She knew he had. She'd seen the evidence in the tabloids. Most of the articles weren't true, but the pictures didn't lie.

His arms tightened around her. “I can't lie about that. I can't take that back. I know what you see and read; the things these women might say to you will hurt and I hate that. I hate that I'm the cause of that. That what I did so carelessly in the past might be upsetting to you. I can only promise you the future.”

“This is going so fast, Stefano.”

His fingers massaged the nape of her neck. “For you,
bambina
, but not for me. Time seems to have slowed down until I want to curse with frustration. My grandfather was
in love with my grandmother. They were inseparable. They detested being apart. I've seen real love. I've felt it when I was with them. They died three hours apart. My grandmother first and then my grandfather followed. Love exists, and that's what I'm offering you.”

His mouth found hers again and she was instantly lost in him. So much heat. So much pleasure lashing through her, little strikes, like lightning flashing through her entire body. This time when he lifted his head, his teeth found her bottom lip, sinking in, tugging, driving her wild.

She heard herself cry out, almost a sob of pure hunger.

“Give yourself to me, Francesca.” Pure command. Nothing less than a demand, and that told her something.

He
was
the devil, but she didn't care. On some level she even knew he was using her own body against her, pitting her innocence against his experience, but she didn't care about that, either. She wanted to leap into the fire with both feet, arms wide, eyes open. She knew his world might be something she would have a difficult time accepting, but he was worth it.

“Yes.” It came out a soft whisper. Almost nonexistent. A strangled resolve. Maybe it was her mind's way of trying to save her. Self-preservation trying to stop her crazy jump off the cliff.

He went still. Absolutely still. His arms nearly crushed her. “Say it then. I need the words. Say you belong to me and that you're committing to me. Look at me, Francesca, and say it and know there's no taking it back.”

She moistened her lips and lifted her lashes to look into his piercing blue eyes. There was such a mixture there. Possession. Desire. Triumph. Demand.

“There's no taking it back, Francesca,” he warned.

She licked her lips again, right over the spot where his teeth had bitten. “I won't take it back, Stefano,” she said softly. “I want to be yours.”

“And you're committing to me? You'll wear my ring. You'll come into my family? Be a part of us,” he prompted.

A ring? He hadn't said anything about a ring. That was going even further than she'd anticipated he'd want. A part of her was thrilled. The sane part was terrified. Already it felt too much like ownership. As if he had already branded her in her bones. In her soul.

“Don't.” He tipped up her face, forcing her to stay in eye contact. “I get that you're afraid,
dolce cuore
. You have to trust me. Rely on me. That's what I need from you. I've got you, Francesca. All you have to do is let me have you.”

She tried to think straight, but her body already belonged to him, her breasts aching for his touch, nipples pushing hard against the material of her dress. Between her legs, she felt empty and needy. Burning. Tension coiled so tightly she was afraid if she moved she might shatter. If she didn't have him she might not make it through the night.

“I can't think straight when you're so close to me.” She could barely speak. His heavy erection pressed against her, high, along her waist and she felt every long, thick inch of him like a burning brand. “You're taking advantage.”

“I'll take any advantage I can get. Right now, Francesca, I'm being gentle. Push me and I'll do more to get your yes. I'll have my fingers buried inside of you and if that doesn't work, it will be my mouth working between your legs. I'm shameless when it comes to you. This is a battle I can't afford to lose so yes, I'll use any means necessary to make certain your answer is what I want.”

She licked over that throbbing spot on her lower lip again. “Is this what I would have to look forward to once we were together? You using sex to get your way?”

“Absolutely.”

She wanted him so much. She could stall all she wanted, but in the end, she knew she would give in to him. “I said yes,” she pointed out. “I may be scared, but I said yes.”

He bent his head to brush kisses over her eyelids, almost as if he were closing her eyes so she wouldn't see the elation sweeping through him. But she did. She
felt
it.

“I'm going to kiss you one more time, Francesca, and
then we have to finish up so we can go home. It's too dangerous to be in public when I need to be inside of you.”

The raw desire in his voice scraped at her, clawed at her belly, matching her own. She wanted to be home, too, as quickly as possible.

“Give me your mouth,
bella
.”

She did so without hesitation, needing the fire pouring down her throat and into her body. Surrounding her heart. The familiar flames rushed over her breasts, connected her nipples straight to her clit, so that she pulsed and throbbed with desperation. His mouth was pure sensuality. Hot with passion. His taste was addicting and when he began to lift his head to pull away, she chased after him with her mouth.

He caught her chin firmly. “
Bambina
, not here. I don't have as much self-control as I'd like, not when it comes to you. I'm not about to fuck you against the wall where someone could just walk up on us, but we keep this up and it could happen.”

It was nice knowing she wasn't alone in what she was feeling, but right at that moment, the idea of him “fucking” her against the wall was a blatant temptation.

He transferred his hold to her hand and stepped back to allow her to move away from the wall. “My cousins are here from New York. I'd like you to meet them.”

She blinked up at him, feeling as if she was coming out of a fog, or an erotic dream, and couldn't quite shake it off. “I met them the other night, remember?” They made her nervous. She wasn't certain she wanted to see them again in her present state of absolute craving. They saw too much.

He smiled down at her. “More cousins. You met Lanz and Deangelo Rossi. They're brothers. They came with two other cousins, Salvatore and Lucca. Their last name is Ferraro as well. Salvatore and Lucca have one other brother, Geno. No sisters. Girls don't seem to run in our family much.”

“Your family is so big, Stefano. I only had my sister. No aunts or uncles. No one else. You have enough cousins to make a small town.”

He laughed softly, tugging her closer until her front was
locked to his side and she was under his arm. His cell phone chimed just as they stepped out of the shadows into the light behind the red bar. He stopped abruptly and pulled it from the inside of his jacket, refusing to give her any space, clamping her tightly to his side.

“You're a slave to that thing,” she pointed out.

“True,” he agreed and flipped it open. “Stefano.”

He was as abrupt on the phone as he was in person, she decided, studying his face. He had a gorgeous face, one that belonged on the cover of a magazine. It was no wonder the paparazzi were obsessed with him. She was a little obsessed with him herself. Her heart was still pounding insanely at the giant step she'd just taken. She couldn't even blame it on alcohol. That was all her, unable to resist him.

She leaned back against Stefano, mostly because he gave her no choice with his arm locked around her, right under her breasts. He smelled wonderful, his scent enveloping her, surrounding her with . . . him. She was acutely aware of his heavy erection pressed tightly against her. He always seemed to be hard around her. She had to admit she liked that. She wanted him to want her.

She had tuned out his conversation, listening to the music instead, used to the constant demands made on his time. It took a few moments before his side of the conversation penetrated. This was no call about someone needing help. She inhaled sharply and turned her attention completely to Stefano.

“No, Saldi, I'm at the club with my brothers and cousins. We're celebrating tonight. Why the hell would you think I'd sneak into your fucking house and kill that piece of shit Tidwell right under your nose? I had no idea the bastard was staying in your home.”

Silence and then more. “Are you fucking kidding me? I beat the shit out of him and sent him to you to do whatever you wanted with him. Taking his building was enough revenge for me.”

Silence and then Stefano burst out with a string of profanities. “You're pissing me off, Saldi. I can't be in two places at
one time. Come on down and see for yourself if you want, although the damn paparazzi has managed to sneak in and they're taking enough pictures for an entire magazine.” Stefano's voice was clipped and angry.

Francesca tensed. Tidwell had owned her building and now he was dead. Someone had—what—murdered him? Was that what Saldi was saying to Stefano? She shivered. At once Stefano bent his head and nuzzled her neck. His teeth nipped and his tongue swirled heat over the little sting, making her intensely aware of him.

“I'll tone it down,” he whispered to her and pressed a kiss against the sensitive spot right behind her ear.

His arm, a bar around her rib cage, didn't relax at all. He kept her tightly against him and resumed his conversation with one of the Saldis. Francesca had heard about them from several sources, but more, she'd read about them in news articles. They were definitely considered criminals. She knew that family was into organized crime, yet Stefano didn't sound in the least afraid. He swore at them and seemingly had no worries about retaliation.

“I don't give a damn, Giuseppi, what you think. What I think is that you'd better find someone else responsible for that piece of shit's cut throat. I'm not crying tears if that's what you're looking for. If it happened under your nose, look to your own people and tighten your fucking security.” He snapped the phone shut with an angry click and shoved it in his pocket.

Her breath caught in her lungs. “Giuseppi Saldi is the head of the largest crime family right here in Chicago,” she whispered, terrified for him. No one would talk to Giuseppi Saldi like that, not even the police. He was reputed to be extremely violent and often retaliated if he felt slighted.

“Yes.” He nuzzled her neck again. “You smell so good.”

“You weren't very nice when you talked to him, Stefano. What if he gets angry with you?” A shiver went down her spine. Stefano was reckless when he lost his temper.

He stopped moving to look down at her, his arms shifting
her so she was standing directly in front of him, her front tight against his. She had to tip her head back to look up at him.

“There you go, getting all protective on me. You're worried about me, aren't you?” His voice practically purred at her, a sensual mixture of possession, desire and something else—affection. “
Dio, bambina
, I love that.”

“He's dangerous. Isn't that the second time you've sworn at him?”

“More like the hundredth. I don't like him and I doubt if he likes me much.” He brushed his mouth over hers with exquisite gentleness. “Don't worry about him. He won't come after me. He wouldn't dare.”

Her heart gave a painful jerk in her chest. “Why, Stefano? Why wouldn't he come after you?”

His hand shaped her face, his thumb tracing her high cheekbone, down to her mouth to linger over her bottom lip. “I told you,
dolce cuore
, no one fucks with me. I'm that kind of man. Stop worrying and come meet my cousins. You'll like them.”

She hadn't been so sure of his other New York cousins, the ones that had definitely been interrogating her. She turned her head as Stefano once again shifted her beneath his shoulder, his arm locking around her to keep her close. She put one hand on his washboard abdomen as her gaze collided with Janice's. The woman had stopped moving right in the middle of the dance floor and was staring at her with absolute venom. Francesca shivered at the concentrated hatred in the woman's gaze. The dancers shifted and Janice was swallowed up by the gyrating crowd.

“What is it, Francesca?”

He was so tuned to her, but she wasn't about to admit his past women were giving her nasty looks and upsetting her. How jealous and lame would she appear? She was just jumpy. She was out in the open and it was impossible not to see the curious and speculative looks the crowd gave them.

“I've been hiding from Barry Anthon for so long that this makes me a little nervous. I feel very exposed,” she improvised quickly.

He laughed softly, his arm tightening around her. “You are exposed in that little black dress. I can see that I can't just call a shopper for you, I'm going to have to
see
you in something before I approve it.”

That distracted her immediately. She gave him her darkest scowl. “Seriously? You think you're going to actually get a say in what I wear?”