The Daddy and the Dom (Mafia Menage Trilogy 2)

I nodded, understanding. Marco was a hard man in a hard world. He’d shown me a shockingly tender facet of his personality, but he probably wasn’t used to betraying any vulnerability. Maybe not even to Joseph.

“I’m not afraid of him,” I declared. “Not anymore.”

“You’re not?” Joseph looked skeptical, but hopeful. “I know that was pretty intense, how he pulled you out of the car like that.”

“He was just worried about my safety,” I countered. “I get that now. He came to check on me when I had that nightmare, and he got me away from that man at the restaurant last night.” I swallowed down the flutter of fear elicited by the memory of the scarred man’s hand on my face. “If Marco was in a bad car accident as a teen, I can understand how that might’ve made his reaction a little irrational. Trauma can bring out strong emotions, especially if you’re not prepared for a possible trigger.” I squeezed Joseph’s hand. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It helps me understand. I know Marco just wants to protect me.”

Joseph pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’m glad to hear that, angel.”

I offered him a bright smile, putting the disconcerting encounter firmly behind us. “We should probably go inside. Marco will be annoyed if we’re late for lunch.”

Joseph chuckled. “You’re definitely starting to understand him.” He shot one last, regretful glance at the Camaro in the driveway. “But I will be fucking you over the hood of that car later, and we’re going to mark the ever-living hell out of the paint.”

Chapter Four

Marco

“Is your lasagna okay?” I asked, breaking the stretch of silence. Ashlyn was pushing her food around her plate rather than eating it. She’d been quiet ever since Joseph had left to go into the city half an hour ago.

Apparently, whatever they’d been up to in the garage before their idiotic joyride had made him lose track of time; he’d practically bolted out the door when he’d entered the kitchen for lunch and caught sight of the clock. He couldn’t be late to the meeting with his dad, no matter how difficult it was to separate himself from Ashlyn. Dominic had to be informed about how Ricky Bianchi had threatened her. Warning Joseph’s dad about the danger to her was the most important thing right now.

So, that left me alone with the gorgeous brunette, just the two of us seated at the kitchen island to eat the meal I’d prepared. I’d anticipated having her all to myself for the afternoon and evening, but I hadn’t expected this shy silence.

She glanced up at me, her lovely eyes flashing like sapphires before her gaze dropped back to her plate. “The lasagna’s great. Thanks for cooking for me all the time. You don’t have to do that.”

It was the first time she’d ever expressed gratitude for my cooking. Something swelled in my chest.

“I want to do it,” I told her. “I like cooking for you.”

I’d like to take care of her more, if she’d let me.

My gut told me she’d welcome Joseph’s kinkier games. I wanted her to welcome me, too.

But my perversions weren’t a game. They were a part of me, a need that gnawed at my soul. In the time she’d been with us, that need had shifted to Ashlyn. I’d thought about her countless times, our few intense encounters giving me enough fantasies to make me come in the shower every day. When I stroked myself, I’d close my eyes and remember the way she trembled for me.

She might think her reactions were fearful, but I knew better. She was a little intimidated, but she liked when I imposed myself on her. I could see it in the way her eyes locked on mine and her breathing hitched as she stared up at me. When I turned that side of myself on her, I commanded her full attention.

And when I’d held her in the car last night, protecting her and sheltering her while she cried, I knew I was just as devoted to her as Joseph was.

Three times in less than twenty-four hours, I’d been wracked by fear for her safety: first when I found Ricky cornering her in that bathroom; then when she’d screamed during her nightmare; and just this afternoon, when I’d caught sight of Joseph drag racing with her in the damn car.

And she’d softened toward me each time I’d rushed to protect her, instinctively trusting me to keep her safe.

The intense bursts of emotion had totally fucked with my head. I’d promised Joseph that I wouldn’t push her. I’d promised that he could have her, and I wouldn’t press my claim.

He might secretly want to corrupt her innocence, but I would cherish it. I’d ensure that she never lost that part of herself, no matter how depraved Joseph’s games became. She was made for both of us, a perfect match for our needs.