Going After Heaven (Mafia Romance)

Chapter Thirty Five

I can't remember how I got to the point of sleeping off in Gabriele's arms.

Aside from the slight back ache I feel because of the position I slept in — my legs around his waist, my head tilted to the side resting on his shoulder with my hands curled to rest on his shoulder blades and his hands wrapped around me— that was the best sleep I've had in years.

I didn't sleep with chips on my shoulders or double-checking for invasion. I didn't sleep with any fear. I slept in his arms and my entirety interpreted that as safety.

I feel safe around him. I feel needed. I feel at peace. I feel taken care of and most pertinently I feel understood.

My fingers dig into his shoulder blades as I shift my ass to adjust. I feel his shaft under me and my core pinches, warming up.

The visual replay of last night comes barreling into my imagination. How he made me cum with his fingers. That jelly soft spot he found inside my core and played with till I'm milked out. His fingers on my nipples. His length grinding into me from behind, heating my ass. My moans were pleas for more.

I think if how my fingers felt tugging at his curls. And when I came, how alive I had felt. How branded I had felt with every one of his touches.

I inhale as the visual sways to me on my knees, his length in my mouth and hand. How he took control and fucked my mouth. How every time he pummels I feel it in my core and my clit tingles. I came from giving him a blow job, from feeling him vibrate as he moans, from feeling his length stretch as he pummels, from his dirty talking, from the control he took and how he used me like a tool. His tool.

I smile into the corner of his neck and open my legs wide so my core can feel his length underneath me with less barrier.

"Thinking about me?" Speak of the devil and his deep voice billows, sinking to my stomach. I lift my head to stare at those eyes.

He means it to tease me but when I open my mouth to say something, "Yes" slips. Because yes I am thinking about you.

"That makes the two of us" He smiles and I skip a beat. I will never get used to that smile. No way will I get used to seeing his cheeks dent and his lips curl, sending translucency to his eyes and my heart.

My guilt is stifled and all I can think about is how I felt last night. How I feel now. How I have felt from meeting him at the elevator.

I was wrong when I called him Odin. I have never felt more alive on the inside like these past days with him around.

He upsets me. He gets under my skin. He annoys me. He walks carelessly past every boundary that I have drawn out. But he makes me feel more like a human with blood and emotions that are mine. He makes me want to live for myself, do things for myself, things that make me happy.

I can't help but think that I want to know him past this. I want to know if he has a favorite thing and what kind of jokes will make him laugh because that seems like an impossible feat.

I want to know and unwrap every layer of him till he is bare. Till he lets me see beneath his perfect.

"It's morning"

"Oh" I look around my office and find the wall clock on the floor-to-ceiling shelf behind the desk.

It's past six in the morning. A day to project LID. I exhale. It's almost here.

"Hey" Gabriele tilts his head and I crane to look back at him.

"It's tomorrow," I swallow a lump.

"Yeah,"

"We will both be dead tomorrow," I chuckle.

"I don't know what will happen tomorrow Heaven, but I know one thing and that's a fact, you won't be dying" damn his certainty. Why can he not say the same for himself?

"Lucky me" I roll my eyes.

"What would you love to do today?" He plants a kiss on my temple like it's a normal thing. Like when we talk, we rain each other with kisses.

It feels natural.

"I don't know" I shrug.

"Say the word, whatever you want to do," he plants another kiss on my forehead and I curl my legs around his waist, tightening my core.

"I want to go somewhere quiet, laugh a lot, read comic books, and just stay away from the places I'm used to, somewhere with a different energy" energy that doesn't stifle with guilt or self-loathe that I will be feeling the moment I step into my office or apartment.

"Then I know just the place"

"Where?" The last thing I need is to be thrown to any hotel in the name of a vacation.

"My place" he plants a kiss on my cheek and I giggle.

"Your place?"

"No?" He pouts, "it's quiet, away from what you're used to, I have comic books and I can try some jokes I've been practicing, some people say the funny guy always gets the girl" huh... what am I hearing?

I burst into laughter and let my head fall on his shoulder.

"I will make you dinner later, it has a beautiful view" He adds.

Wait, is Gabriele Romano asking me out on a getaway slash dinner date and trying to pitch himself to me? This is beautiful to hear.

"Are you asking your boss out on a date?" I move away from him and fold my hands across my chest. Pretending like I'm not giddy happy inside. He chuckles.

"Bloody hell I am," he says and I can't hold back the laughter that breaks out of me. This laughter is unfamiliar. It's not the sophisticated sound I have been trained to give when I find something funny. This laughter is exposed and if I didn't know better I would think it belongs to someone else.

"You should never stop laughing Heaven," he gives that quick smile, "never" I nod, still giggling, "so you see I can make you laugh,"

"On one condition" I snort.

"Done"

"At least hear me out," I swat his chest.

"Shoot"

"You will answer my questions truthfully because I have lots of questions to ask" and I do. This is a perfect opportunity to know him. Call it a dying wish.

He thinks about it for a second then he nods.

"Say it," I pout.

"Accepted"

"I didn't know you cook" I cough out, but that's not the main point.

"I want to for you" who is this guy?

"I'll love to eat whatever you make" and hope to hell you have cereal just in case it's a disaster.

He holds my gaze and moves his tattooed knuckles to stroke my cheeks.

"I'm not doing this because of tomorrow, I'm doing this because of what will happen after tomorrow" I nod. I get it. We will both be dead after tomorrow. Or he will be dead after tomorrow. "Do you have any allergies?"

"Badly done meals, I'm allergic to bad cooking" he gives that smile again. Not too broad but a little wider than his usual quick smile.

"Get ready then," he lifts me and I stand. His hands move to my butt and he squeezes gently, again like it's a natural move.

"Be right back," I swat his hand and walk to my bedroom. Every part of my inside is heated up and melting into puddles, waiting to break out.

I can take today for my pleasure alone and savor each moment. I can let myself feel everything today, just for today. Because we won't be here after tomorrow.

I push the thought of our deaths away and smile as I walk into the bedroom connected to my office here at the factory.

I smile, thinking of what I would pack up for dinner.
Thinking of how to appear as part of the menu.

How exactly do Italians like their meals dressed?
Someone help a lady in distress out.