I avoided his eyes. “If ten is for the worst pain I’ve ever felt, then eight.”
“The truth.”
“Ten,” I whispered.
Luca clenched his jaw. “Next time will be better.”
“I don’t think I can again so soon.”
“I didn’t mean now,” he said firmly, kissing my temple. “You’ll be sore for a while.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how fast and hard did you go? The truth,” I mimicked his words.
“Two.”
“Two?”
I must have looked pretty horrified, because Luca rubbed my stomach lightly. “We have time. I will go as gentle as you need me to.”
“I can’t believe Luca—The Vice—Vitiello said ‘gentle,’” I said teasingly to lighten the mood.
Luca smirked. He cupped my face and leaned close. “It’ll be our secret.”
Emotions crowded in my chest. “Thanks for being gentle. I never thought you would be.”
Luca laughed, a raw sound. “Believe me, nobody’s more surprised about this than me.”
I rolled onto my side, wincing, and snuggled against Luca’s shoulder. “You’ve never been gentle to someone?”
“No,” he said bitterly. “Our father taught Matteo and me that any kind of gentleness was a weakness. And there was never any room in my life for it.”
Even if the words wanted to get stuck in my throat, I said, “What about the girls you were with?”
“They were a means to an end. I wanted to fuck, so I looked for a girl and fucked her. It was hard and fast, definitely not gentle. I mostly fucked them from behind so I didn’t have to look them in the eyes and pretend I gave a shit about them.”
He sounded cold and cruel.
I kissed his tattoo, wanting to banish that part of him again. His arms around me tightened. “The only person who could have taught me how to be gentle was my mother.” I held my breath. Would he tell me about her now? “But she killed herself when I was nine.”
“I’m sorry.” I wanted to ask what happened, but I didn’t want to push him and make him retreat behind his cold mask. Instead I cupped his cheek. He looked startled by the gesture but didn’t pull away. I licked my lip, trying to suppress my curiosity.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked suddenly. For a moment, I didn’t know what he was talking about. He brushed a hand across my abdomen. “Yeah, but talking helps.”
“How does it help?”
“It distracts me.” I gathered my courage. “Can you tell me more about your mother?”
“My father hit her. He raped her. I was young but I understood what was going on. She couldn’t bear my father anymore, so she decided to slice her wrists and overdose on dope.”
“She shouldn’t have left you and Matteo alone.”
“I found her.”
I jerked up and stared. “You found your mother after she’d cut her wrists?”
“That was actually the first body I saw. Of course it wasn’t the last.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “The floor was covered with her blood and I slipped on it and fell. My clothes were soaked with her blood.” His voice was calm, detached. “I ran out of the bathroom screaming and crying. My father found me and slapped me. Told me to be a man and clean myself up. I did. I never cried again.”
“This is horrible. You must have been terrified. You were only a boy.”
He was silent. “It made me tough. At one point every boy has to lose his innocence. The mafia isn’t a place for the weak.”
I knew that. I’d seen how Father had tried to shape Fabiano in the last few years, and it always broke my heart when my little brother had to act like a man instead of the young boy that he was. “Emotions aren’t a weakness.”
“Yes, they are. Enemies always aim where they can hurt you most.”
“And where would the Bratva aim if they wanted to hurt you?”
Luca extinguished the lights. “They won’t ever find out.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for, but I was too tired to ponder it. Instead I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Going to the toilet burnt like hell, and walking wasn’t exactly comfortable either. I winced as I stepped back into the bedroom where Luca lay with his head propped up on his arm. He watched me. “Sore?”
I nodded, blushing. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?”
I lay down beside him. “I thought you might want to do it again, but I don’t think I can.”
Luca traced his fingertips over my ribs. “I know. I didn’t expect you to be ready so soon.” He rubbed my stomach, then inched a bit lower. “I could lick you if you’re up for it.”
My core tightened and I really wanted to say yes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Luca nodded and settled back against the pillows. The blanket crowded around his hips, revealing his muscled torso and the scars there.
I moved closer and propped myself up above him. I traced Luca’s scars, wondering what kind of stories hid behind each of them. I wanted to know all of them, wanted to figure Luca out scar by scar like a puzzle. Where did he get the long scar on his shoulder and the bullet wound below his ribs? Luca was doing his own exploring with his eyes, wandering over my breasts and face. He ran his thumb over my nipples. “Your breasts are fucking perfect.” His touch was more possessive than sexual, but I could feel it all the way between my legs anyway.
Trying to distract myself, I paused with my fingertips against a mostly faded scar on his abs. “Where did you get this scar?”
“I was eleven.” My eyes grew wide. I was pretty sure where the story was going. “The Famiglia wasn’t as united as it is now. A few men thought they could grab power by killing my father and his sons. It was the middle of the night when I heard screaming and shooting. Before I could get out of bed, a man stepped
