Underboss (With Me in Seattle Mafia 1)

“She’s angry.”

“She’s being a brat,” she counters. “And that’s not like her. She won’t talk to me. All she wants to do is brood and sulk, and it’s irritating as fuck.”

“Not everyone knows how to handle their emotions after a powerful loss like that.”

“I know. And I’m sympathetic. She lost who she thought was her husband, the life she imagined they’d build together before he even died. And then he was just…gone. She couldn’t confront him. She must have so many emotions going on, and I feel for her. But her attitude is shitty, and I needed a break.”

“Fair enough.” I park and lock my car, and we walk inside the house. It’s the same one we used when we were here a few weeks ago. It’s starting to feel like a home away from home.

I wonder if the owners would consider selling it? It would be convenient to have a piece of property here in the neutral city of Denver.

I’ll have to make some inquiries.

“I’m taking a shower,” Nadia announces, and already has her shirt over her head as she saunters down the hall to the master, her ass swaying in that way that never fails to kick me in the stomach with lust.

I want her.

I always want her.

I’ve fallen in love with her.

I follow after her and hear the water turn on in the shower. Deciding to leave her alone to wash off the frustration of the day, I light a few candles and then go to the kitchen to arrange some fruit, cheese, and crackers on a tray. It’s not fancy, but it’ll be a nice snack.

I set the platter next to the bed and turn to find Nadia standing in the doorway, towel-drying her hair.

She’s naked and still damp from the shower. I can’t wait to get my hands on her.

“Is that for me?”

“It seems that most of what I do these days is for you,” I reply as I cross to her and cup her face in my hands. “Better?”

“Yeah, that felt good.”

I kiss her lips tenderly. “Come, relax. Have a snack.”

“I can think of something I’d like to snack on.” Her lips curl up into a flirty smile, and she drops her hair towel to the floor, then reaches for my jeans.

“And what would that be?” The question is playful. “A card game, perhaps?”

“I’d kill you at poker.”

“I’ve seen you play poker,” I remind her.

“That was an act. I could have cleaned up on that table.”

“Darling, you’re just full of surprises.”

She yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor, and then she’s on me, raw need pouring from every pore of her body. We stumble to the bed, fall in a clumsy heap, and then it’s all groping hands and laughter as we fumble our way to each other.

She’s out of breath when I pin her beneath me, but her blue eyes are wild and locked on mine as I nudge her thighs apart with mine and drive home.

I gasp as she moans.

I need her the way I need air. I can’t be gentle as pure desire fuels me, pushing and pulling, driving us both to the ultimate destination of eruption.

“Christ Jesus,” she moans. Her back arches, and she clenches around me, then lets go.

I can’t keep my hands off her breasts, my mouth away from her neck, and move up to her lips as I press on, still chasing the all-encompassing need to claim her. To show her how much I need her.

Finally, with my jaw clenched and my eyes shut, I fall over the edge and collapse on top of her, heaving and tingling.

I feel fingertips roaming over my spine and shift my face from the pillow to her neck.

“You’re the best part of my life. Don’t ever forget that.”

Those fingertips still for just a moment but then begin moving again.

“I won’t forget,” she promises. “But you’re going to have to move because I can’t breathe.”

I find the strength to roll to the side and smile over at her. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m mostly numb anyway.” She giggles and reaches for a strawberry. “And I’m so hungry. Why am I so hungry?”

“You’ve been eating like a mouse since France.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Yes. You have.”

She watches me and reaches for some cheese, then sits up to eat. “I’ve just had a lot on my mind, you know?”

“I do. And so do I. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you eat.”

“It’s handy having you around.”

“I’m glad you think so. Because I’d like to stick around for a long while. When all of this is done, I want you to move in with me.”

She frowns. “Aren’t I basically already moved in?”

“I want to make it official. I want to move all of your things to Seattle.”

She swallows her cheese and watches me with those stunning eyes of hers. “To your house?”