Page 30 of Born into Sin

I’m still wide awake and staring at the ceiling when I hear my phone vibrate on the nightstand next to me. My heart gives a fast jump when I see Dominic’s name.

You never texted me like I asked you to, principessa.

I don’t know how he does it, but I can feel the irritation coming off the words and hear the accented disappointment. My fingers are already flying across the screen, unable to ignore him.

Sorry. I figured since you saw me climb in the window that you knew we were okay.

His response is immediate. I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you to do it. Is everything okay?

My heart races as I type out a response. I can’t explain my reaction to Dominic, but it’s all-consuming. Yeah, everything’s fine. Svetlana is already asleep. No one knows we left.

Why aren’t you sleeping?

I can’t tell him the truth, that I’m not sleeping because I’m too busy thinking about how good it had felt to be held in his arms, or that I can’t stop remembering the hardness I’d felt pressing against my ass, or that every time I try to close my eyes, I hear his accented voice in my ear, whispering my name.

I settle on: Nerves. My mind is still racing from everything that happened.

After several seconds, I start to worry that he’s not going to answer, but then his text comes through.

I’m glad I was there tonight. I don’t like thinking about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t been.

A few seconds later, I get two texts, one right after the other.

Try and get some sleep, Natalya.

Call me if you ever need anything.

And the final one has me sucking in a quick breath.

Sweet dreams, principessa.

I reread his texts several times before typing out a simple Night, Dominic.

I wait to make sure he isn’t going to send anything else, and then because I can’t help it, I pull up the photo I’d sent myself from my dad’s phone last week at the supper. The photo of Dominic holding me as a baby fills my screen. He looks younger in the photo, but he hasn’t aged that much, and I swear he looks even sexier now than he did then. I’m just a baby in the photo, but it’s obvious I was just as enamored with him then as I am now.

I keep staring at the two of us until I finally force myself to set my phone aside before I end up texting him again and making a fool of myself. My mind refuses to stop racing as I replay everything that happened tonight over and over again. My hand stings a little bit from punching that asshole, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing ache that’s going on between my thighs. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his hands on me, the way his finger had brushed along the inside of my knee, the deep, masculine groan he’d given when my ass had pressed against him—I’m lost to the memory, and it takes hours for me to fall asleep.

The next two weeks pass by in a stressful blur that’s a mix of nervously waiting to get caught for what happened and wishing like hell Dominic would text me again, but he doesn’t, and I haven’t seen or heard from him in fourteen days. It bothers me way more than it should. He’s more than twice my age, the don of a powerful mafia, and the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. I’ve spent more than one sleepless night imagining him with another woman in his arms and in his bed, and it’s slowly driving me crazy.

Knowing I need to get out of the house, I grab my bag and head for the kitchen. Mom and Dad are out on one of their date nights, which always involves a ride on Dad’s motorcycle and them coming back super late with huge smiles on their faces, looking like a couple of guilty teenagers. Sasha ordered a bunch of Chinese food earlier, but I’m not in the mood. I’ve got a craving for lasagna, and I blame it on the smoldering hot Italian that I can’t get out of my head.

“Hey, I’m going to run out and get something to eat. You guys want anything?”

Sasha and Mia look up from their huge cartons of food. Sasha’s already put a big dent in the sweet and sour chicken, and Mia looks determined to finish off the crab Rangoon before Sasha remembers they’re there.

“We have food,” he says, waving at the white boxes covering the counter.

“I have a craving for lasagna. I’m just going to run and grab something to bring back. I won’t be long.”

“Are you going to Mama Sofia’s?” Mia’s words are muffled because of the huge bite she just took.

“Why on earth would I ever go anywhere else?” I ask, already tasting the delicious red sauce and homemade noodles.

“Bring back extra garlic bread,” she tells me.

“To go with your Chinese food?”

“I’ll eat it later,” she says with a laugh.

---