I raced toward the iron gates of the Capone estate, the tires of the Ducati screaming. I didn't slow down while the sensors picked up the chip in my bike, the heavy metal bars groaning as they swung open.
The security guards stood at the entrance, their hands resting on their holsters. I didn't want them to see a thing. I shifted my weight, leaning my chest forward until I was shielding Gianna’s entire body with my own. I pulled the collar of my jacket up and pressed her face harder into the crook of my neck, hiding the mess of her hair and the dazed look in her eyes.
"Don't move," I gritted out through my teeth, "Don't look at them."
She let out a soft, muffled sound against my skin, her fingers digging into my shoulders. The guards gave a short nod as I sped past them, their eyes lingering on the bike for a second too long. I didn't stop. I tore up the long driveway.
Instead of heading for the main entrance where Adriano or Vincenzo might be lingering with a drink, I took the side path. It led straight to my private garage, a bunker hidden behind the stone walls of the east wing.
I coasted inside, the dim overhead lights flickering to life, as I slowed the bike and finally killed the engine.
The roar of the bike that had been filling my ears was gone, replaced by the sound of her heavy breathing. The bike was still hot, the metal ticking as it began to cool.
I stayed still, my hands frozen on the handlebars. I needed her off. I needed to put distance between us.
"We're here," I said, "Get off, Gianna. Now."
She didn't let go of my neck. Instead, she let out a long, shaky sigh that ghosted over my skin, making the hair on my arms stand up. She shifted her weight, her frame sliding slowly against the fuel tank.
Then, she rocked.
It wasn't a mistake. It was a deliberate tilt of her hips, a heavy roll that pressed her core directly into the hard, aching length of my erection.


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