When She Falls: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Fallen Book 3)

The next morning, I take Gemma into town for clothes and supplies.

On the taxi ride over, I try to figure out when to tell her that Vale has no idea where we are. Gemma seemed so sure that Damiano’s aware of what we’ve done, that I froze and lied to her.

How will she react when she finds out it might be a very long time before she sees either of her sisters again?

Guilt pulses inside my chest at the knowledge that if we want to stay hidden, Gemma will have to wait to talk to them. We can’t risk getting in touch with anyone for a while. Even with burners, we could be tracked using cell towers. I don’t know about Garzolo’s men, but Napoletano could pull something like that off in his sleep. It’s best if Gemma waits to call anyone until we’re about to leave Crete. Then, even if they manage to track us here, we’ll be long gone.

I rake my fingers through my hair and retie the knot at the back. Will Dem make Napoletano his underboss now that I’ve abandoned my duty? Napoletano and him might not have the same history we do, but he’s capable. He’d do the job as well as I ever could.

Damiano will be okay. One day, our paths will cross again, and maybe I’ll even convince him to forgive me.

I chase the painful thoughts away by focusing my attention on Gemma. She seems to be feeling better after sleeping for nearly eighteen hours. We ask the taxi to drop us off by a pharmacy because she’s self-conscious about the bruise on her face, and she wants to buy some makeup to cover it up.

The fact that she has to do that at all infuriates me. Fuck Garzolo. I hope he’s enjoying his cell.

We walk into the pharmacy, and Gemma quickly buys some things before ducking into the bathroom. When she comes up with her bruise covered up and a smile on her face, my anger loses its edge.

I finally have Gemma exactly where I want her—by my fucking side. That’s the only thing that matters now. I won’t let my anger at her father stop me from enjoying this.

The old town of Heraklion is filled with cafes, tavernas, and shops selling everything from pottery to souvenirs. We pass by Orthodox churches and walk through fountain-filled plazas. Gemma takes in everything with wide eyes, excitedly pointing things out to me on every block. A scruffy but kind of cute street dog starts following us around, and Gemma insists on stopping and giving him a scratch. My thoughts go to Churro who’s still back in Ibiza. I’ll have to find some way to get the little guy to us eventually.

Gemma leaves the dog alone and comes to me, tucking herself against my side. Warmth spreads through my chest. The longer we spend together, just the two of us, the more certain I am.

I’m going to build a life with her.

It might not be easy, especially not at first, but all the best things take work. I’ll spend each day doing whatever needs to be done to make sure she’s safe and comfortable and happy.

There’s nothing better than seeing her happy. It’s contagious. I’m fucking floating as I walk beside her, holding her hand inside my own.

“I love this town,” she tells me once we reach the shore.

I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I’m glad you like it, Peaches.”

We won’t be able to stay on Crete forever, but Greece has a shit ton of islands. I’ll find her one she likes even better and buy her a house. I have enough money scattered across my personal accounts to last us a few lifetimes.

No, scratch that. I’ll build her a house. It’ll take longer, but it’ll be fucking perfect, just like her, and we’ll be so happy, we won’t miss any of the things we left behind.

“What would you do if you could do anything?” I ask.

Gemma peers at me. “What do you mean?”

“How would you spend your time if we lived here for a few years?”

She grins. “Are we pretending we’re that couple that goes somewhere on vacation and then falls in love with the place and decides to move there?”

Maybe we’ll stop pretending sooner than you think. “Right.”

She scrunches her lips and moves them to the side. “I’m not sure. I like fitness, so maybe I’d start my own Pilates studio. I’d have to get certified first. When I was younger, I really liked to paint, but it’s been years since I tried it. I probably wouldn’t be any good.”

I stop walking and point at the storefront right in front of us.

Gemma gasps.

It’s an art supplies shop.

I insist we go in, and despite hesitating at first, Gemma quickly warms up to the idea. We walk out of there fifteen minutes later with a bag of paint, brushes, and some canvases.

I grin to myself. In our future house, I’ll build her an art studio, and we’ll decorate the walls with her paintings.

Our next stop is a clothing shop. While Gemma tries on little linen dresses, all I can think about it is getting her out of them. She brings me a few things she thinks would look good on me, and I buy them without even checking the sizes. I’m too eager to get her back to the house.

I feel high. Around her, I’m incapable of thinking straight. I hate shopping, and yet somehow doing it with her feels like this special fucking treat.

We leave the shop with four big bags, and I’m about to start heading to the taxi stand when she stops by another store display.

It’s a jewelry store.

She starts walking away, but I pull her back. “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing,” she says, waving me off. When she realizes I’m not going to move until she tells me, she sighs and points at a pendant.

“Come on.” I tug her inside the store.

The jewelry store is small and quaint, and chimes ring above us as we step inside. Glass cases line the walls ,and the miniature gray-haired shopkeeper comes over to ask if there’s anything in particular we’d like to see.

“That black pendant in the display,” I tell her.

“The onyx piece.” She smiles knowingly. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Gemma follows her to take a closer look, but not before giving me a light smack on the butt.

A rush travels up my spine. I fucking love how comfortable she’s getting with my body.

She talks to the shopkeeper, completely oblivious to how my obsession with her is growing with every hour we spend together. I don’t think I realized how much I was restraining myself around her while we were in New York. Everything was forbidden. Every wrong move could’ve gotten us in trouble. But now, the shackles are off, and I’m not sure she’s ready for what’s coming next.

The shopkeeper steps away from Gemma, and I quickly take her place, looking at Gemma’s reflection in the mirror. “What do you think?”

The pendant is a smooth black stone nestled in an intricate gold frame on a delicate chain. It catches the light just so, and there’s wonder in Gemma’s eyes as she looks at it.

“It’s beautiful. But I don’t have any money,” she adds sheepishly.

“I do.” I hand her my card. One of my accounts is at a secure offshore bank that not even Napoletano can trace.

“Are you sure? You’ve already bought me a lot of things.” She drags her finger over the pendant.

I snake my arms around her waist. “If you knew how much pleasure I get from spending money on you, you’d realize you’re doing me a favor by getting that necklace.”

Her cheeks turn pink. “That sentence just did something to my insides.”

I let out a low chuckle and press my lips to her ear. “Wait until tonight, Peaches. There are plenty of other things I can do to your insides.”

Her breath hitches, and she gives me a heated look while the shopkeeper carefully wraps the pendant in a small box.

We walk out of the shop, and I can’t resist the urge to press her against a wall and kiss her. Her lips are soft and pliant, and she moans into my mouth as I deepen the kiss. People walk past us, probably staring, but I don’t give a fuck.

Let them see us.

Let them know she’s mine.

I drop Gemma off at the house and get the taxi to take me to the closest grocery store. Orrin’s supposed to have someone drop off a car we can use at the house today, which is going to make shit a lot easier. It’ll also give us a way to get out of here quickly if we need to.

I grab stuff off the shelves in a rush, not wanting to leave her on her own for more than fifteen minutes.

She’s safe there, I know she is, but I’m still fucking anxious to be away from her. When I get back, I leave the bags on the counter and prowl through the house in search of her.

“Peaches?”

There’s no answer. Panic spikes inside my gut, but a moment later, I find her in our bedroom.

She’s napping.

A smile pulls at my lips. I halt, placing my hands on the doorjamb above me, and just take her in.

It’s warm despite the window being open, and she’s tossed off the thin sheet we’ve been using as a blanket. She’s lying on her stomach, wearing only her underwear, and my gaze falls to her ass.

Cazzo.

The scrap of black fabric leaves little to imagination. It’s not a thong, but it’s barely more than that.

I bite down on my tongue. Fuck, my handprint would look good on that ass. My hands twitch with the urge to prowl over and fondle her smooth, curvy flesh. I’d shuck those panties off, spread her open, and eat her ass and cunt until she turns to jelly beneath me. Then I’d sink my cock into her warm, swollen pussy over and over until she was squirming and begging for another release.

I shudder, acutely aware that I’m already hard inside my jeans.

She turns me on like no one ever has.

She must sense my presence, because after a minute she stirs, flips over, and gives me a few sleepy blinks. My gaze drops to her perky tits. She stretches her arms over her head with this confused expression, like she’s completely oblivious of the effect she’s having on me.

“Hey. What are you doing over there?”

“Imagining all the ways I’m going to fuck you once your side is feeling better.” No matter how badly I want to be inside of her, I’m not going to risk hurting her while she’s injured. There’s a purple bruise the size of my fist on her ribs.

Her eyes slide down my body. When she notices the bulge inside my jeans, she blushes and bites down on her lip.

My hungry gaze soaks her in. She’s so fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” she says softly.

I move across the room, unable to resist her. When I sit down on the bed beside her, she wraps her arms around my shoulders and presses a kiss against my neck.

“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she murmurs. Her hard nipples brush against my back and send more blood rushing to my groin. “I want you.”

A groan rumbles inside my chest. “I want you too. So bad, you have no idea. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

She takes my earlobe between her teeth and tugs it lightly.

Fuck, it feels so good.

“You won’t. We can take it slow.” Her hand slips inside the front of my pants, and she sucks in a breath. “You’re rock hard.”

The sensation of her fingers wrapped around my cock makes my thoughts scramble. I turn my head to press my lips to her throat, desperate to taste any part of her. “If you keep touching me like that, I’m not going to be able to stop.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” She climbs onto my lap, giving me access to all that smooth, supple flesh. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, baby.” I fill my palms with her ass and pull her closer so that her pussy presses down against my cock. “You know I’m not going to say no to that.”

I flip us over, carefully placing her on her back, and hook my fingers around the straps of her underwear. The fabric slides down her creamy thighs, leaving goosebumps behind.

She sucks in a breath when I spread her knees apart to take a look at my favorite view.

Her wet, pink pussy is as perfect as the rest of her.

I slide my hands down her inner thighs, which makes her shiver in the most satisfying way, and then I drag my thumbs over the outer edges of her cunt.

She lets out a helpless little moan.

I press my face into her pussy and slide my tongue into the place where she’s wettest. She clutches my hair. “Oh God.”

She’s so damn sweet. I could live off this. Feeling her shudder and moan from how I’m eating her out is a privilege. A profound pleasure. But I want to taste all of her, so I grab her ass, raise it off the bed, and go lower.

She startles. “Ras.”

When she tries to pull away, I tighten my hold on her hips, and glance up. She’s breathing hard, her cheeks redder than normal. “What are you…”

“Living out the fantasy that’s been playing in my head on repeat while I was watching you sleep.”

“You want to…” She swallows.

“Do I want to eat your tight little ass?” I grin. “Yeah. One day, I’ll enjoy fucking it too.”

Her gaze turns hazy with arousal. “I knew it. I knew you’d be like this in bed.”

“Like what?”

“Wild. Ravenous. Overwhelming in the best way possible.”

“Don’t get overwhelmed too quickly, Peaches.” I bring my lips back to her pussy. “We’ve got all night.”

Gemma’s shyness appears to be momentary, because it doesn’t take her long to start grinding against me while my tongue takes turns between fucking her two holes. I can feel her orgasm building from the way she starts to tense up, her back arching against the bed. She gasps when I take a hard suck of her clit and comes apart, my name on her lips.

I shuck off my jeans and take out a condom, admiring my handiwork. Gemma’s chest is rising and falling with heavy breaths, her full breasts on display. I roll the condom on and drape myself over her once again, my mouth latching onto one hard nipple before moving to the next.

“Are you going to take it like a good girl?”

She licks her lips. Nods. Gasps as I push inside her.

Her eyes squeeze shut. “God, you make me feel so full.”

I let my forehead fall against the crook of her neck, rendered mute by the sensation of being inside of her.

This is not normal.

This is not how sex is supposed to feel.

It’s supposed to feel good. It’s not supposed to feel like entering fucking heaven.

A tremor rolls down my spine. Her nails drag down my biceps, and I make a shallow thrust.

Fuck.

The sheer restraint needed not to immediately come makes sweat roll down my back. I suck on her neck, kiss along her jaw, claim her lips in a searing kiss.

When I manage to gather myself, I sit up and throw her legs over my shoulders.

The view is unbelievable.

Her swollen pussy swallows every inch of me, and I’m fucking mesmerized.

Utterly obsessed.

“This is mine,” I growl, my pace picking up. “All fucking mine.”

She whimpers.

I squeeze her thigh. “Say it.”

“It’s yours,” she gasps.

When I alter the angle, I get treated to seeing her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Oh God. Ras, I’m going to come again.”

“Good. Come all over my cock, Peaches. Let me see it.”

She fists the sheets, and her small body trembles all over. I reach over to tweak her left nipple. Her face twists into a perfect mask of agony and ecstasy before she makes a sob and squeezes around my cock. Hard.

“That’s it,” I say through my teeth, feeling her contract around me again and again.

My own release comes like a faraway roar, rising and rising until it’s all I can hear. My balls tighten. The pleasure is so intense, I’m gasping for breath.

She reaches for me, taking my hand and holding it tightly, as if she knows she’s the only thing anchoring me in place.

Our eyes meet, and I see the universe inside of hers.

Outside, the wind stirs and makes the olive trees sway. The leaves rustle, their whispers streaming through the open window.

You love her, they say.