I MARRIED A GANGSTER: [2018 EDITION]

Seventeen

For the next few days in the house, we have been sitting in tension. It made me uncomfortable to have Jemma living in this house and being near Francesco. I wanted her miles apart from him, not two bedrooms down. Giselle had been shooting sneaky remarks to Jemma every second she could. Cara had been reserved with Jemma, diving into the wedding planning and making everything perfect.

My life was a whirlwind while we were planning and prepping. I was struggling to keep afloat but luckily Francesco was there every step of the way. He would stay up all night with me listening to me vent about Jemma, or how evil his mother was. He would listen patiently while caressing me and when night falls, he would walk over to the far too-small couch and get comfortable.

I've been trying my hardest to work up the will to tell him that I want him in the bed with me, but I couldn't find it in myself to do so. I mostly feared rejection, which was stupid because I knew Francesco cared about me.

But I was still too worried about how I would react if he would say no. I could feel his sadness when he walked away from me and took his position on the couch, but still, I only hit my tongue and turned away from him.

I currently lay in bed doing just that. Francesco always went to sleep extremely late and woke up when the sun was rising. He wasn't very courteous towards how much noise he made in the morning either. He would wake up cursing to himself and stretching out his kinks.

He would then stomp into the bathroom and shower for a record time and then dress and leave. When I would wake again he'd be working somewhere outside of the house and always home in time for dinner.

But today I had awoken with it being different. There was no noise when I woke up, but the sun was rising. I heard slight murmurs in his sleep which woke me. I then heard a deep sigh signifying he was awake.

Though, he probably didn't think that I was awake yet because I rarely gave awake that I was up. I heard him slowly walk to the bathroom and walk inside. The light illuminated the still-dark room, but I was out of sight of Francesco.

I open my eyes and sit up, wondering what is wrong with him. I was developing a predisposed instinct to know when something was wrong with Francesco. I could hear clothing falling to the floor and the shower turning on.

This was the first time he had left the door open. I could see his naked reflection in the mirror opposite the shower and when he turned to the side, I could see his very prominent erection.

I blush immediately and look away, laying back down and covering my face with my hands as more than impure thoughts floated through my mind.

I tried to will myself not to listen to anything that could be happening in those four walls, but it wasn't working for me. I could hear everything. My hormones had me hypersensitive to everything coming from Francesco DeLuca.

I hear a deep sigh and I found myself mimicking that same action. My hand began to drift underneath the comforter. Drifting to a part of my body that was begging for attention.

I couldn't.

It seemed so sinister to be doing ...that with Francesco right there.

But he was doing the same thing and it would be taboo if I were doing what he was doing with only one wall between us.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts of guilt when I hear heavy breathing echoing from the tile in the bathroom and I feel my blush deepen.

His breathing grew quicker and more panicked. Then I hear nothing for a few moments.

I still.

Then the sound of a low growl vibrates through the walls and I'm aware that he just finished. I swallow a laugh of disbelief as I roll over into the bed and lay on my stomach.