Broken Crown (Mafia Royals 5)

I want to tell him I wish I could go back in time, do better, love him too.

But I can’t. The words won’t come.

And yet part of me wishes I could say them.

“Okay,” he says finally as he pulls me against him. “Seven days then.”

“Seven,” I repeat.

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”

I’m almost afraid to nod.

And then he pulls me against him and presses a kiss to my neck that makes me feel like I’m dying and living at the same time.

I close my eyes.

His hands move down to my hips.

I’m suddenly in nothing but skin as he pulls the rest of my clothes off.

Nothing.

His fingers dig in.

His mouth presses against my neck.

He whispers, “Even if you’re his… for right now… you’re mine.”

I open my mouth to say he’s wrong.

But no words emerge. My breathing stalls in my chest.

He’s inside me.

All of him.

Filling me.

And all I can say is.

“Oh, God.”

I wasn’t ready for this.

For him.

I feel all of him.

Full.

Mine.

I exhale.

He breathes across my lips.

It’s us.

Him.

Ours.

I don’t know how we move beyond this, but I do know. I’m confused, and his name is on my lips.

Chapter Seventeen

“Do not borrow tomorrow’s troubles today.” —King Arthur

King

I could have done that better.

I wanted to.

And then I was touching her, tasting her, and she was reacting to every single touch, and somehow, that unmanned me. Leaving me with no other option but to claim her in the most medieval and dominating way.

I need her.

I have no idea how much, but I’m finding out as I surge into her, reveling in the moment as her warmth clenches around me with each thrust. My purpose was to show her how I felt, then pull back. Instead, I find myself pushing harder and further.

I find my hips pressing against hers over and over again.

I find my mouth on hers like it hasn’t tasted in years.

And I find my hands are unable to stop touching her skin, so I keep going, I keep tasting, I keep seeking, and I realize that maybe in seeking, I’m finally found.

In the one woman who belongs to someone else.

Her lips part, I take them with mine while she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. With a groan, I fuck her harder. No excuses. No reason other than I want to be inside her deeper, more… forever.

Her eyes roll to the back of her head: is that a good sign or bad? Normally I wouldn’t think twice, but it’s Del.

And I love her.

So, I draw away a bit only to have her nails rake the skin along my spine and dig in as she tugs me closer again. Yeah, okay, just kidding. But if this is how the ship is going to go down, fucking let me go down with it. With her.

“So good.” She grips my shoulders. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” My hips move slowly now as if I’m taking her on a trip through the waves of my own desire, of her sexuality, of a fantasy where it’s just her and me where the world doesn’t exist outside of this moment.

Del moans.

“Del,” I whisper, my voice raspy. “This is…”

“Different,” she finishes. “Everything it’s not supposed to—be.”

I open my mouth to agree when I grip her ass with both hands. Her eyes flash open, and then she’s biting down on her bottom lip, gaze locked on my mouth like that’s her next feast.

“Now,” she says. “Now! I need it now.”

I don’t have to ask what she needs. I can feel her hitting the edges of where I’ve pushed her. I can feel it all. I want it all.

I fucking want it all.

I squeeze my eyes shut briefly as I sink into her—into all of her and just exist. I don’t leave. I stay. I stay and feel an almost heartbeat of lust surge through her as her hips move. I hold them there.

And then she screams.

I still hold her as she tries to move against me.

I take her.

I take it all.

I love her.

I love her.

I love her.

I hold her while she breaks, and I continue to hold her, loving the pain as she sags against me. Fists start hitting against my chest.

I welcome her guilt.

It’s as much mine as it is hers.

And because I’m a bastard… I smile.

Chapter Eighteen

“I found Him in the shining of the stars, I marked Him in the flowering of His fields, But in His ways with men I find Him not. I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.”— King Arthur

Del

I failed.

As I slide down off my ecstatic high, an ecstasy I shouldn’t feel or know or even want… and yet I do, guilt creeps in, first a trickle and then an overwhelming flood that takes over, nearly drowning me. He’s still on top of me, his body warm, his muscles firm. Everything about him feels right when it should feel wrong. The soreness between my legs, even the stickiness.