Page 28 of Protected By the Mafia

His hand moved up to her stomach, his lips found the side of her neck, and he released her hair in favor of sliding that hand back to her hip. He held her in place while they settled, then eased out of her and quickly tugged her panties back into place. He did all that with his lips attached to the lower curve of her neck, and she felt the skin lift slightly before he released her enough to straighten.

Another, softer flush rushed through her. “Did you just—”

Her pants sailed over the back of the sofa and Cristiano pulled her against him, chest-to-chest. “I did. So that while I’m gone, all you have to do is look in the mirror to remember how fucking sexy you are to me.” He slipped his hands under her shirt again, until his palms rested on her skin. “If I have to, I’ll leave hickeys and love bites on your body every single fucking day until you can’t picture yourself any other way. Until associating that image with a screaming orgasm is your automatic response.”

Felicity’s lips dropped open in a silent gasp. Her belly coiled with a fresh wave of want.

He growled and kissed her again, one hand dropping to clamp over her ass. His tongue swept through her mouth, demanding and giving all at once. Then he straightened, chest heaving. “I’ve never hated my job more than I do right now. But I can’t stay.”

She pushed out a breath and smiled, her hands on his chest. “It’s okay. I know you’re busy, and I’m not really wanting for anything. I just—” She hesitated for a split-second. “I feel kind of like a free-loader, I guess.”

Cristiano smirked, kissed her forehead, and reached into his pocket. “Plenty of couples live together, and there’s no reason you should have to worry about work. I’ve got more money than I need.”

Felicity curled her fingers into his shirt as she tried not to openly gape at him. Couples? She’d been trying very hard not to think about what they were, or how Cristiano might be defining them, because in the back of her mind she had been certain she was merely his current fascination. But men who drifted from woman to woman with the changing of their moods didn’t use words like “couples.” Right?

He noticed her stunned silence and arched a brow. “Which part of that was shocking?”

She remembered, the night before, asking him if he would stick around when his current assignment was over and the need for her to be in hiding came to an end. He’d given her a simple response and she’d accepted it at face-value, but looking back, his answer had been almost avoidant. Or at least, it felt that way now.

Felicity held his stare, searching his dark blue eyes. “Last night, when I asked if I would lose you after all this is dealt with, what did you mean when you said ‘I have you’?”

Cristiano slid his phone back into his pocket. “I mean you can count on me, Felicity. I’m not going anywhere.” He cupped her face in his hands as if she weren’t already looking at him. “I mean you are my woman, and by the same token, I am your man. If you run, I will chase. If you push me away, I’ll pace at the boundary line. Because I will never be far.”

Tears stung her eyes and Felicity stretched her arms around his torso. He folded her against him, threading his fingers into her hair again as the other hand splayed over her back. “My own personal guardian stalker,” she teased.

“Damn right.” He lowered his hand some more and pinched her butt cheek. She jumped, but he only said, “In the meantime, let me show you something.”

Taking his hint, Felicity eased back.

Again, he retrieved his phone from his pocket, swiped the screen, and turned it toward her. A proud grin tipped his lips.

Felicity gaped, her eyes bulging. It was a picture of her. Of them. It was a picture of them, having sex against the back of the couch! Very little of Cristiano was visible, and certainly not identifiable. Based on the photo, a man with his pants undone who looked to have thick or sturdy legs was standing behind and railing a woman, with his hand tangled in her hair. His arm came in at an angle, so only the forearm was visible, and she thought maybe if the image was magnified a small portion of his cock could be seen, too.

She, on the other hand, was obviously the focus of the picture. Her ass was prominently in view, although partially covered by the skewed dark green and half-lace panties she’d chosen for the day. Her back was curved, the shirt shoved up until the slightest edge of her matching green bra line could be seen, and because of the style of the shirt and Cristiano’s ministrations, her more visible shoulder was half exposed. Her head was thrown back and combined with the curvature of her back it seemed clear—though her perspective was admittedly biased—that she was feeling pretty damn good.

It was straight pornography, even if her ass crack was covered.

As the shock faded, Felicity realized something else. Her face was entirely out of the shot. Everything she’d inferred about the feelings in the photo came from body language, and of course memory. The lighting from the living room’s large windows darkened the foreground of the picture just a bit, darkening her hair beyond its actual hue … and further rendering her unrecognizable.

The picture was indecently sexy, but also tasteful in the way it obscured her identity.

Cristiano tapped the center button on the device and the image shifted, slightly, until she was looking at the same picture again but beneath a layer of apps and folders. It wasn’t fully obscured, but the part that was the most overridden was the part that held the most personal risk. Then he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her nose, the startlingly tender action jerking her out of her shocked stupor.

“You actually took a picture.”

“Of course I did,” he said, already putting the phone away. “That was the point. To prove to you that you’re sexy as fuck. You just need to see you the way I do.” His gaze burned. “And I wanted to show my appreciation for your idea.” He chuckled. “This worked out better. If you’d sent me some sexy pic while I was driving, I might’ve swerved off the road and died.”

She laughed, since she could see he was teasing, and turned with him when he started toward the kitchen. “Well I hope it wasn’t a busy road, then. I would’ve felt extra-bad.”

“The interstate’s always busy.”

“Interstate?”

Cristiano paused just past the island. “I had to go to Trenton.”

Felicity felt the breath stumble from her lungs. “Do I … want to know?”

He turned to face her. “You’re the only one who can answer that, baby.”

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