Mafia King (Mafia Royals 3.5)

Held my breath when the mattress dipped.

And then a strong arm jerked me against a warm body.

I opened my mouth to say something snarky when Tank whispered in my ear, his breath hot, his tongue touching skin. “For once…don’t.”

But, of course, I did. “Are you protecting me or holding me, Tank?”

He nuzzled my hair a bit with his nose. My lips parted on a little gasp of surprise as he whispered, “A little bit of both.”

I gulped. “You, um...brought your gun to bed.”

A dark chuckle and then. “No.”

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Mouth dry, I just lay there with his giant arm pinned across my body, his breath in my hair, and his very aroused body pressed up against me.

I could literally feel every pulsing heartbeat of that giant non-gun in his pants.

And it seemed the more I felt, the more I wanted to feel.

I wiggled a bit.

He bit back a curse. “Bad idea.”

“Or best idea I’ve ever had, and we can blame it on intoxication.”

“Sober.”

I sighed. “Same.”

He let out a little growl. “Good to know that’s the only way you’d screw me, Tiny.” He pulled me tighter against him. “Now, stop wiggling and sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“One more thing—”

“If you say one more word, I’m gagging you, and it won’t be the fun type of gag where you have a safe word.”

I perked up. “Should we make a safe word just in case?”

He cursed.

“Sea turtle.” I decided with a cheerful sigh. “They’re innocent enough and—”

His hand moved up and cupped over my mouth.

I kind of liked it.

In a weird way.

How the hell did his hand smell so good, anyway?

Was that lotion?

Tank?

Or just…man?

I shivered.

“Felt that,” he hissed.

“It was involuntary,” I snapped.

His chuckle made me want to stab him more than kiss him. So arrogant. How rude! “You know, you don’t need to hold me.”

Not that I could get away if I wanted to, but I wasn’t about to admit defeat to the giant behind me.

If anything, he pulled me tighter against him, as if he were afraid to let me go. It was nice. Nice being wanted. Held. It had been…a while since anyone had simply held me or even wanted to.

I was too crass.

Too loud.

Too perfect one day, only to be too immature and crazy the next.

I never seemed to fit.

But I fit here.

In his arms.

I fit very well with his chin on my head, his hands on my skin, my heart beating out of my chest as his breathing slowed—seductively.

“I do, though.” His voice sounded heavier, carrying a rasp of exhaustion that I felt deep in my bones. “Need to hold you.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why.

But then something happened.

I actually relaxed.

His deep breathing told me that he’d done the same, though he still had me pinned against him like I was his favorite bear to sleep with. But I was oddly okay with it in that moment as I was lulled into a deep sleep.

And this time…

I didn’t wake up screaming like I had after my first kill.

This time, I slept.

When my heavy eyes blinked open, a few hours had passed, and the warmth I’d felt from Tank’s body was gone, leaving me shivering as I pulled the covers up over my body and sat up, looking around the room.

The shower was on.

I checked my phone.

Three a.m.? Really?

Rat bastard needs to shower at three a.m.?

With a groan, I chucked a pillow onto the floor and padded my way into the en suite bathroom.

Steam billowed outside of the walk-in shower. I mean, seriously, the hell was he doing?

I opened my mouth to yell something close to that when he walked around the shower wall, fully erect and nearly slipped back against the tile. “What are you doing?”

“It’s nighttime! What do you think I was doing? I was sleeping!” I kept my eyes on his face.

I should have been given an award for that.

He was just so male.

“I couldn’t sleep so I went for a quick perimeter run, then still couldn’t sleep so did some pushups and—wait, why am I explaining myself to you again?”

“Soooo, my bodyguard left me?” My right eyebrow arched.

“Miss me?” He winked. “And don’t worry, your bodyguard never left the premises, and I did the pushups inside the living room.”

“How many?” I just had to ask.

“Three hundred.” He sighed. “Now, can I dry off?”

“Who got your back?”

“Pardon?”

“In the shower.” I lifted my chin. “Who got your back?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Does it feel like it?”

He groaned. “Well, at least now I’m tired. Next time, I’m just going to wake you up and get a good verbal spar on. I’ll be snoring in seconds.”

“Because I’m boring?” I put my hands on my hips.

He rolled his eyes. “No, because you’re exhausting.”

“Oh”

“Yeah.” He must have seen the frustration on my face because rather than grab a towel, he walked back into the shower, turned it on, and said, “You coming, or not?”