Filthy: A Mafia Romance

He turned to face me, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve asked a lot of you.”

Propping up one hip and folding my arms over my chest again, I raised an eyebrow at him. “Asked?”

He gave me a rueful smile. “Okay, demanded.”

“Forced,” I spit out.

If I expected him to flinch at the word, he didn’t. He just shrugged. “You would have come around either way. I was just expediting the process.”

I barked out a laugh. “Come around? To what, being your mistress? Your personal whore?”

His full mouth pulled down into a frown, his brow furrowing over his dark eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked calmly. “That you’re my whore?”

“Aren’t I?”

He stepped closer to me and I had the urge to step back, to keep some distance between us, because I still remembered that he was dangerous. And he was dangerous for a lot of reasons, most of them having to do with the hurt I was experiencing in my chest.

“No,” he told me flatly. “You’re not. Diana…A whore will sleep with anyone for money. You did it because I left you no choice, but I like to think that wasn’t the only reason.”

I swallowed heavily and looked away, because his expression was making me feel vulnerable. It looked earnest, genuine. And I wanted to believe that it was. “What other reason could there be?”

When he took another step towards me, it put him right next to my body. His hand reached out to slide down my shoulder and for a blissful second, I let it. Because he still felt good, even as I tried to deny it. Then I jerked out of his grip.

“Damnit, Diana, we’re good together,” he said, his tone annoyed. Like he’d expected me to just melt from his words just because he said I wasn’t a whore.

Still an asshole, I thought. “Good together? How do you figure that?”

“Tell me you’ve come like you have with me for any other man.”

Pursing my lips, I was silent for a long moment because of course I hadn’t. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I said, “Good sex doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course it does.”

“Not to me.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and this time when he grabbed hold of my upper arm, he held tightly. I couldn’t shake him off. “Don’t give me that crap. The sex is good because what’s between us is good.”

“Between us? And what is between us?” I demanded. “A payment plan? Drugs? What?”

He paused, whatever he wanted to say lingering on the tip of his tongue. Then finally, it slipped out. “Love.”

Chapter 14

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Love is between us. Or affection or whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, because I know you do. This connection. I didn’t expect it, sure as hell didn’t want it, but it’s here.” He tapped on his chest above where his heart was. “We’re good together, Diana, and I think it’s pretty clear that this isn’t about payments or deals or anything like that anymore.”

Love. He…he thought he was in love with me. It was ridiculous. Utterly and completely. How could he be in love with me?

I told myself he was an asshole. That he was just standing there trying to manipulate me again, just like he always did. Play on my fears with Cody and going to prison. Play to my desires with my need to be wanted by a man.

But even as I reminded myself of all of this, I couldn’t ignore the pressure in my chest. The hope and the need there. Because I did care about Ethan. I wasn’t sure if it was love—I didn’t think he was sure either—but it was real.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked him finally, my tone soft and quiet.

His other hand moved to slide over my other arm, though his grip had softened. His fingers warmed along my bare skin and a little shiver ran through me. It wasn’t disgust anymore, not even a little bit. It was desire and comfort.

“Because it’s what I should have told you when I took you to dinner that night,” he answered. His voice had dropped lower, volume matching my own. “I’m not doing all of this just for my business. I’m doing this because I want you in my life, and I’m okay putting in a little extra effort if that’s what I get for it.”

He leaned forward and when he pressed his lips against mine, I let him. My eyes fluttered closed and I realized how seldom he kissed me. His lips were soft, his mouth equal parts insistent and coaxing. When his tongue trailed over the seam of my mouth, I opened for him, letting him inside.

He tasted of mint and something heavier, richer. His tongue explored, touching and coaxing my own until we were dueling. The kiss intensified, becoming deep and needy, full of passion where it had begun with sweetness.