Free Web NovelChapter 44: "Very Slowly"
Aren hesitated only briefly before placing her hand into Caio’s.
The instant her fingers touched his palm, his hand closed firmly around hers.
He guided her forward until she stood directly between his legs, her knees brushing the edge of the mattress.
"Sit here," he said hoarsely, struggling to sound composed. "On my thigh. It gives you... more control."
Truthfully, he barely understood what he was saying anymore.
Aren didn’t fully understand the reasoning either. She only knew she wanted to be closer.
Carefully, she lowered herself sideways onto his thigh. The moment she settled there, Caio’s arm slid around her waist and lower back, holding her securely against him.
Instinctively, Aren placed both hands on his shoulders to steady herself.
They were impossibly close now. Close enough that every breath brushed against the other’s lips.
"If anything feels wrong," he said quietly, one hand rising to cup her flushed cheek, "anything at all that you dislike..."
His thumb stroked softly across her skin.
"You tell me immediately. Understood?"
Aren nodded shyly. Her entire face had turned a vivid crimson.
"Yes..."
That was all the permission he needed.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Caio leaned forward until his lips touched hers.
The kiss was astonishingly gentle.
Tentative.
Nothing like the desperate, feverish hunger that had consumed him the first time.
This time, he kissed her as though he feared she might break beneath too much force. His heart hammered violently against his ribs as he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
Then another.
And another.
The faintest pull at her lower lip parted them with the quietest sound.
It wasn’t enough.
It could never be enough.
But it eased the relentless ache that had been clawing at him ever since that night.
Aren responded immediately. She tried earnestly to mimic the movements of his mouth, learning through observation and instinct alone. The clumsy sincerity of it nearly shattered what remained of his self-control.
His hands ached with the urge to touch more of her. To slide beneath fabric. To pull her fully onto him and lose himself entirely. Instead, he held every urge back with painful discipline.
After several long moments, he forced himself to pull away.
"Aren," he whispered unevenly.
His thumb slid beneath her chin, gently steadying her face.
"Was it... good?"
Aren looked equally breathless now. Her chest rose and fell rapidly despite how careful he had been.
"Yes," she whispered, soft and airy. "It felt... very nice."
A genuine smile appeared on Caio’s face — a small one, but a real one — rare enough to transform his face completely.
For those few seconds, every trace of harshness disappeared from his features, replaced by a warmth Aren had never seen before. She found herself staring at him in quiet fascination.
His thumb brushed slowly along the curve of her cheek, lingering there as though he was savoring the simple reality that she was sitting in his lap at all.
"Shall I... continue?"
The question was gentle, but the implication behind it sent another rush of heat through Aren.
"...Yes, please."
The words had scarcely escaped her before he leaned forward and stole them away.
This time, the kiss deepened almost immediately.
The tentative caution that had defined their earlier kisses dissolved beneath something softer, steadier, and infinitely more dangerous.
Caio kissed her with patient expertise, guiding rather than demanding, his mouth moving against hers in a slow, intoxicating rhythm that steadily unraveled her thoughts.
When his tongue brushed lightly against her lower lip, the unfamiliar sensation sent a strange flutter through her stomach.
Caio felt every reaction.
He felt her stiffen in surprise, then gradually melt back against him.
His hand slid into her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands as he drew her closer. His other hand moved higher along her back, spreading warmth through the fabric separating them.
Before Aren fully realized what had happened, she had been pulled completely against him.
Chest to chest.
Body to body.
The solid strength of him surrounded her from every direction. Heat radiated between them, turning each breath warmer than the last.
Instinctively, she shifted in search of balance, adjusting her position atop his thigh.
And suddenly...
She froze.
Something hard pressed firmly against her hip through the layers of fabric separating them.
Something very hard.
Very large.
And unexpectedly warm.
Curiosity immediately overpowered everything else. Without thinking, Aren leaned back and broke the kiss.
Caio instantly went rigid.
Absolute panic detonated inside his chest.
’Did I scare her?’
’Was that too much?’
’Fuck—’
"What’s wrong?" he asked immediately.
His breathing hitched as his eyes searched her face with barely concealed alarm, desperately looking for any sign of discomfort or fear.
But Aren didn’t look frightened.
If anything, she looked thoughtful.
Analytical.
Her gaze lowered toward the space between his legs, brow furrowing in concentration as she examined the situation with the same concentration she might devote to solving a difficult puzzle.
"Don Caio," she said quietly.
She pointed downward.
"You are..."
She paused, searching for the proper wording.
"You are... very hard."
Caio went completely still.
For one catastrophic second, he was fairly certain his soul physically left his body and drifted somewhere near the ceiling.
His throat suddenly felt bone dry.
"Aren..." he started weakly.
Every part of his brain scrambled for an explanation that would neither confuse nor overwhelm her.
"It’s my... I..."
’Christ.’
He closed his eyes briefly.
"I become like this because... we kissed," he managed at last, voice rough and strained. "And whenever we kiss, I’ll probably be... like this."
Heat crawled steadily up his neck.
"It’s normal," he added quickly. "A normal physical reaction."
Aren blinked slowly as she processed the explanation.
Several seconds passed before understanding settled across her features.
"Oh."
She nodded thoughtfully.
Then, with wide eyes full of curiosity and a serious desire to be helpful, she looked back at him.
"If so," she asked sincerely, "should I touch it too when we kiss?"
Caio froze so completely he nearly stopped breathing.
Every instinct in his body screamed the same answer.
’Yes.’
’Absolutely yes.’
’Grab her hand.’
’Guide it lower.’
’Teach her everything.’
’Every. Single. Thing.’
The images arrived in his mind with horrifying speed.
Then, the last surviving fragment of his rational mind slammed on the brakes hard enough to leave skid marks.
’No.’
’Too fast.’
’You’ll terrify her.’
He forced himself to inhale.
Exhale.
’Take your time with her.’
’Yes.’
’Take it very, very slowly.’
After what could only be described as a heroic feat of self-restraint, he finally managed a strangled response.
"No."
He drew in another ragged breath.
"Not yet."
Before Aren could begin a detailed investigation into the subject, he carefully shifted her position on his thigh, moving her away from the source of the problem entirely.
One hand slipped beneath her chin, gently redirecting her attention upward until her eyes met his once more.
"Listen to me, Aren."
His voice dropped lower.
"There are... more things I want to do with you."
The confession alone sent heat flaring beneath his skin.
"But we’re going to take this slowly."
Even he himself could hardly believe how patient he sounded.
"Would you like that?"
Aren stared at him for one long moment, considering his words.
The idea of doing more with him, being closer to him, learning the things hidden behind his hesitant words... all of it sent a deep blush spreading steadily across her face.
"...Yes," she answered, quiet and sincere. "I’d love to learn everything from you."
She smiled at him then, with complete trust shining in her eyes.
Caio stared silently at that warm, trusting smile. Something in her words and that smile nearly destroyed him.
Then, suddenly, Aren leaned forward.
Driven by a pull she couldn’t fully explain, she wanted to kiss him again. Wanted to feel his lips again.
Caio recognized her intention the moment her weight shifted on his thigh.
His breath caught.
His chest tightened.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs.
This was different.
Before, he had always been the one closing the distance. This time, she was coming to him entirely of her own accord.
Just as her lips were about to meet his—
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The violent knocking exploded through the room like gunfire. freewёbnoνel.com
Both of them jumped.
The moment shattered instantly.
Leo’s muffled voice followed a second later.
"Boss?"
The murderous fury that crossed Caio’s face in that instant was powerful enough to freeze lava.
If looks could kill, Leo would already have been reduced to ash on the other side of the door.
"WHAT?!" Caio snarled.
The single word emerged as a dangerous growl thick with venom.
"It’s an emergency, Boss," Leo called back.
Even through the wood, his tone carried the unmistakable tension of a man fully aware that he was standing dangerously close to signing his own death warrant.
Caio’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles popped. For one glorious second, he wanted to punch a hole through the wall.
Wanted to tear the door off its hinges.
Wanted, quite sincerely, to commit homicide.
Instead, he exercised a level of restraint that bordered on supernatural as he turned back toward Aren.
The black fury boiling through his veins vanished the instant he looked at her. Carefully, he lifted her from his lap and settled her onto the mattress beside him.
"Wait for me here," he murmured.
His voice had become startlingly gentle again.
"I have someone to kill."
Then he stood.
Adjusting his clothes with a sharp, irritated motion, he stalked toward the door with all the determination of a man marching toward an execution.
The door flew open with a violent CRACK.
Caio filled the doorway, looming over his second-in-command.
His eyes were dark.
Dangerous.
Actively homicidal.
"This better be fucking worth it," he hissed.
Leo’s gaze flickered past Caio’s shoulder until he spotted Aren sitting on the bed.
For a brief moment, understanding flashed across his face with painful clarity.
’Oh no.’
Then regret.
Then the horrifying realization that he had interrupted something monumentally important.
He cleared his throat, shifted awkwardly, and decided that the gravity of the news outweighed his desire to remain alive.
"It’s Pietro Lamon and the assassins," he said, professional composure returning at once. "They were all discovered murdered just now."
