A Touch of Fate Read Online Cora Reilly

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
<<<<71818990919293101111>124
Advertisement


My breathing hitched when he settled all the way inside me. I felt so full, and the angle offered a new, more intense sensation.

“You feel good, Emma,” he murmured, his lips grazing my cheek as he slowly eased out of me before he thrust back inside.

He snaked his arm under me and pressed his finger against my clit. The intense pressure of my clit and his deep thrusts soon had me moaning uncontrollably into the pillow.

Samuel always made me forget everything else in these moments when our bodies joined. The feel of him on top of me, inside me, his warm breath against my neck, his deep moans…became my sole existence until stars exploded before my eyes and the waves of pleasure coursing through my body blasted away all else.

His release spilled into me, and I shivered under a new wave of pleasure. Samuel became slack on me, his breathing still hot on my neck and his cock softening inside me.

His finger still pressed against my clit but didn’t move anymore. I wanted to stay like this forever. I didn’t want to return to being mad at each other.

Yet Samuel took a deep breath and got off me. I stayed on my belly, too exhausted to move. Samuel moved in the room and returned a moment later with a washcloth that he used to gently clean me. The caring gesture made my heart thud madly in my chest. Then he stunned me by kissing my ass cheek. “I love your ass. It’s beautiful like the rest of you. Beautiful inside and out.” His words were laced with tiredness and alcohol. Had the whisky spoken? Or had it only teased out words that he’d usually keep to himself?

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

Samuel stretched out beside me and fell asleep without another word, his breathing deep and low.

I was wide awake. My pulse was still racing, and Samuel’s words kept repeating in my head. They had been tender and affectionate. I could feel myself falling for him, having already had a crush on him even before we’d married.

But should I turn a blind eye to his struggles for now? Should I allow our bond to grow before I tried again?

Would he ever even let me get close enough to admit any problems to me?

I glared at the whisky in my hand. Since Emma’s words, every drop had tasted bitter, laced with guilt. What right did she have to judge me? She didn’t know anything about me. Even if I drank a bit too much on occasion, with the shit I had to deal with on a daily basis, this was to be expected.

I set the glass down on the side table and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. In the past, I’d only drunk at parties or to celebrate something with fellow Made Men. Drinking alone had started after Serafina got kidnapped and my friends died because of my idiotic attempt to save her. Alcohol had become a way to numb the guilt, the anger, the worry, the sadness.

In our world, men were supposed to appear invincible. Admitting any kind of weakness was out of the question. Maybe I had a problem, but I was in control. I could stop if I wanted to. But if I refused to drink with company, people would eventually ask why. If I mentioned I didn’t drink at all, they’d think I had a problem. They’d see it as a weakness—something I couldn’t risk. I was in control. Emma was simply sensitive because of her past. I got it. The past clung to me too. I downed my whisky. I was in control, and Emma would soon realize it.

In the following two weeks, I tried to drink only with company and not at home. It worked out except for a few minor slips when Leonas drove me up the wall with a risky maneuver. The brat wouldn’t get himself killed while under my protection.

But my good intentions went to hell when the anniversary of my friends’ deaths loomed on the horizon. Renato offered to join me at their graves, but I declined. This year, I didn’t feel like company. Of course, Emma knew something was up and came into my office the night before the anniversary of the attack on the Falcone mansion and the brutal deaths of my friends.

She was already in a flimsy white nightgown, her curls trailing down her slender shoulders when she moved toward me. I sat in my desk chair, a half-empty bottle of bourbon on the desk and a half-full glass in my hand. I met her gaze over the rim as I downed the rest of the liquor.

Emma’s eyes were concerned, not accusing. I would have preferred her anger. “Tomorrow is the day you lost your friends, right?”

Her voice was gentle and careful as if she worried I’d break down at the mere mention of it. I had never broken down in public. I hadn’t even cried after their deaths. I kept my emotions bottled up as deeply as I could.



<<<<71818990919293101111>124

Advertisement