There was no noise—Stefano never made any when he walked—but he was there, behind her in the mirror, one arm snaking around her waist and pulling her back into him and locking her there. He’d just taken her in the shower, after she’d sucked him off in bed. Her body still was having aftershocks, which she hadn’t thought possible just a few days ago. He nuzzled her neck.

“I love how you smell,” he murmured, his tongue and teeth already wreaking havoc.

She watched the way her nipples came to twin hard peaks and felt her body melt right into his, pressing back into his bare skin. He was always hot and hard. Perfect. She reached back and circled his neck with one hand, the action lifting her breasts as if an offering. Instantly he cupped them in his hands, and she felt his teeth sink into that sweet spot between her neck and shoulders. That bite of pain coupled with the brush of his thumbs on her nipples sent a spasm through her sex.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Francesca.” His eyes met hers in the mirror. “You sure you don’t want me to talk to Pietro? I’m all for staying in another few days.”

“I’d love to,” she answered honestly. “But I can barely walk. I’m sore, Stefano. Seriously sore and I can’t seem to resist you. I’m also not going to be a kept woman. I need to earn my own money.”

His head came up, body going still. His arm tightened into an iron band. “You’re sore? Why didn’t you say something to me?”

She turned in his arms and wrapped both hands around the nape of his neck. She knew him now. He was totally protective. He would detest that she was sore and he hadn’t noticed or thought of it. Well, he’d thought of it; he’d run her a hot bath countless times, but she always ended up straddling his lap and they’d make a mess of the bathroom floor, water everywhere from their splashing in the tub. She shouldn’t have said anything to him.

“Honey, I loved what we were doing. I wasn’t going to miss one moment of it. I’m not that sore.” That was a lie. She winced because he knew it. His expression told her he did. That and the sudden swat on her bare butt. He smacked her hard. “Ow. Seriously?” She tried to pull away from him but his arm didn’t budge. He didn’t even act like she’d moved.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. Not. Ever. I don’t like that I hurt you, Francesca. I like rough sex. I like knowing you’re mine and I can put my mark on you and you love it. But not at the cost of hurting you. That’s not okay.” He suddenly caught both her wrists, pulled them to him so he could inspect them. He’d tied her up more than once. She knew it was more for fun than anything else, but he liked it. He liked having her at his mercy and she’d enjoyed those times with him especially.

“No bruises,” she pointed out hastily. “Stefano, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss one moment with you. It was the most beautiful weekend I’ve ever had in my life. I do have to get dressed for work though, and so do you.”

He sighed, bending his head to press kisses into the pulse beating in her inner wrist. “You don’t have to work. That doesn’t make you a kept woman. When we have children, I want you to be with them, not working in some fucking deli so you can call yourself independent. You’re never going to be independent. I’m your man, bambina, and that means you lean the fuck on me.”

“We don’t have children yet, Stefano. And stop saying fuck. I mean it. You need to clean up your language. Sometimes you use that word twice in the same sentence. When we have children, I don’t want that to be the first word out of their mouths.”

He stared down into her eyes, holding her there like he could, just with his gaze, mesmerizing her. Keeping her captive, under his spell. A slow smile transformed the hard edges of his handsome face. He was so beautiful to her. A gorgeous man and she was falling more and more in love with him.

He’d spent the entire weekend worshiping her body. Claiming her so possessively. Insisting on feeding her. Washing her. Brushing her hair. He treated her like a princess when he wasn’t pounding into her. She liked the pounding most of all. And when he slowed it down and took her breath away, he brought tears to her eyes.

“I can do that for you,” he agreed. “But you do something for me. Start thinking of us together. What I have is yours. What you have is mine.”

She swallowed hard. Shook her head. Felt tears burn behind her eyes and blinked rapidly in an effort to keep them at bay. “I don’t have anything to give you, Stefano. I’m not bringing anything to the relationship but trouble. Barry Anthon is trouble. You know that. Any way you look at it, he’s trouble. You have so much money, and you’re so—extraordinary. You are. I’m . . .”