Mafia Captive (Mafia Menage Trilogy 1)

She stopped in the threshold to the bedroom, freezing in place as I examined her. I allowed myself a full minute to admire her body, drinking in her perfect curves and smooth, alabaster skin. Her nipples pebbled in response to my rapt attention, and the thin silk did little to hide the peaked buds.

I wanted to close the distance between us and rip the flimsy material from her body, revealing the dusky pink tips of her nipples and exposing her fully. It had been so long since I’d seen her naked, and I ached to learn her perfection all over again.

Her teeth sank into her pouty lower lip, and her hands twisted together in front of her. I recognized her nervous tics. She was feeling shy, vulnerable.

Now wasn’t the time for me to strip her, pin her against the wall, and fuck her hard. She needed me to handle her carefully; she needed tenderness, not aggression. I found her innocence enticing, but I didn’t want her to be anxious around me.

I stood and approached her slowly, allowing her time to move away if she wanted to.

She remained fixed in place. Her eyes roved over my body as I moved, flicking down from my steady stare to focus on the ridge of my cock where it strained against my jeans. She licked her lips, and I bit back a lustful growl.

When I reached her, I took a deep breath and held out my hand, giving her the option to take it.

She immediately initiated contact, clasping my hand with her much smaller one. I closed my fingers around hers and led her back to the bed, guiding her to sit beside me on the edge of the mattress.

I brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face, and she closed her eyes at the electric contact. I didn’t want to stop touching her, so I indulged myself. I stroked her hair, letting the damp, dark chocolate strands fall through my fingers. When I reached her shoulder, I traced the line of her collarbone before running my palm down her arm. Her skin pebbled beneath my touch, her body lighting up with the same awareness that gripped me.

My fingers closed around her hand again, my thumb brushing across the inside of her wrist. Her eyes closed, and she swayed toward me. Her head tipped back, waiting for my lips to capture hers.

I brought my free hand up and allowed it to sink into her hair, fisting it at her nape. She sucked in a small gasp when I tugged her back, and her eyes flew wide.

I thought I’d see the sting of rejection in her eyes, and an apology teased at the tip of my tongue. But it wasn’t necessary. She stared up at me with raw lust. She liked my hand in her hair, the little bite of pain as I wrapped it around my fist and took control.

With great effort, I eased my hold and resumed stroking her, lightly massaging her scalp.

She let out a blissful sigh and leaned toward me again. She wasn’t seeking a kiss this time. She rested her head against my shoulder, relaxing into me.

I shifted my touch just long enough to grip her waist and position her body so she was curled up in my lap. Then, I resumed petting her. She snuggled closer with a happy humming sound.

“I missed you, angel,” I said, my voice a pleased rumble.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. She lifted her head, her beautiful blue eyes catching mine. “You said we could talk. I’m still not happy with you, but I want to hear what you have to say.”

I lightly rubbed a pressure point behind her ear, and her lashes fluttered as she practically purred.

I chuckled. “Are you sure you’re not happy, angel?”

“Stop distracting me and talk,” she grumbled, but there was no real bite in the order.

I took a deep, sobering breath. It was time to discuss the reality of her situation, and that knowledge cooled most of my lust. Once I was finished, she might turn from me in disgust.

But I’d never earn her trust again if I wasn’t honest with her. I needed her trust; I craved it. The feel of her softening beneath me as she gave me everything was too addictive. I’d risk anything to have that back.

“I’m not a good man,” I murmured. “I’m not, but I wanted to be.”

I still wanted it, but now that I’d been dragged back to my violent life, I knew that was just a childish dream.

“That’s why I ran away to Cambridge,” I continued. “I wanted to start over, to have a simpler life. I thought I could have that with you, but instead, I pulled you into my world. And I’m sorry for that.”

She stared up at me, hopeful. “So, you are sorry for kidnapping me?”