He was close—so close to the end of his control. He felt the heat skittering down his spine. Up his thighs. His balls tightening. She was beautiful, her entire body flushed, her mouth open, panting, singing a ragged chant, a breathy call of his name. “Mine.” He nearly spat the word. Telling her. Wanting that word branded into her bones. Wanting his name carved deep in her soul. She. Was. His. His everything.

Her muscles tightened, clamping down again, that scorching vise he would never get used to, the one that felt so fucking good. Paradise. Exquisite pain and pleasure coming together in perfect harmony. Forcing his explosion so that his entire body seemed to come apart. Milking him dry.

“Francesca.” He breathed her name in reverence. His woman. He hoped she felt what he was trying to show her with his body. Love wasn’t the right word, not when it was everything. Not when it was so intense.

She stroked his hair, her eyes drowsy. Sated. Staring into her eyes shook him because he found himself drowning in her blue gaze, experiencing the most powerful emotion he’d ever felt. She shook the foundations of his world.

He allowed himself to collapse over her, burying his face against her neck. He nuzzled her there. Kissed her. Bit down as gently as he could, feeling her body shudder and quake around his as he glided into her over and over. Slow again. Bringing them both down from that exhilarating rush.

When he finally found the strength to withdraw, he rolled her onto her side, back to him, curling his body around her.

“I have to clean up.”

“No.” He made it an order. “Tonight you sleep with me inside you.” He had a primitive desire to own her body all night. He waited for her to protest. What woman wouldn’t protest? His seed would run down her thighs. Make a sticky mess. She had every right to protest. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into the back of her head, into the luxurious mass of dark hair. Waiting.

Francesca laughed softly, and the sound teased every one of his senses. Made him indescribably happy. He lifted his head because he had to see her. One hand moved the cloak of hair, exposing the tilt of her mouth. That sweet, sweet curve.

“You’re kind of a caveman, sometimes, Stefano. But it’s sexy. Really, really sexy.”

The breathless quality to her voice brushed like fingers over his belly, making his cock grow semihard when he’d just been feeling sated. She could make him insatiable. She already had. He was used to having a strong sex drive, mostly when he came out of the shadow portals, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, but now, he thought about sex about every third second. Sex with his woman. Francesca.

“Glad you think so, amore. You need to go back to sleep. You have work in the morning. Unless . . . ” He paused hopefully. When she didn’t take the bait, he sighed. “You could quit.”

“I’m not going to be a kept woman, Stefano.”

He was silent. He wanted to keep her. It was necessary to him. “You do know I’m filthy rich, right? My family has money. I have money. I would much rather spend it on you than on anything or anyone else.” He spoke low, trying to keep his tone even. He knew money was going to be a sore subject with her. She’d been homeless. And she had a streak of pride a mile wide.

“You bought me an entire wardrobe, honey,” she said.

Her voice was quiet. Almost gentle. He could tell she was trying to tiptoe around his pride. It wasn’t that though. “It’s about me needing to do things for you, Francesca. It makes me happy. You have no idea how happy. I’ve never had this before.”

It was difficult to make the admission, not with his emotions choking him. He was grateful he was behind her, his body locked around hers. He tightened his arm around her chest, and pushed his hips deeper into her. She was so soft. Incredibly soft. And warm. Her perfect little ass pushed back against him, and he closed his eyes against the streak of white lightning shooting through his cock to his belly.

“I’ll keep my job for the time being, Stefano. It helps me learn about all the people in the neighborhood. You grew up with them. I would like to get to know them. I can tell they matter to you—you help them out a lot. If I’m going to be your wife, then they should be able to come to me so I can take some of the burden off you.”

His heart jerked hard in his chest. The pressure was strong, an actual pain. She was going to be his wife. He would accept nothing less, but to have her want to get to know the people in his world just so she could help him reduced him to putty. She didn’t know it—and thank God she didn’t—but she had him in the palm of her hand. She had all the power in their relationship. She probably always would.