Page 7 of Mafia Book Boyfriend

We’d only just finished, but my cock stirred. She bit her lip, “Umm, Xander?” She said with her eyes twinkling. “Again?”

“Again and again,” I swore. Flipping her over to prove that I was a man of my word.

The sun tiptoed the following morning, doing its best not to disturb us. I didn’t mind waking up. I’d never mind it again if I woke up with her arm wrapped around my waist, her breast pillowing my chest, and her knee hooked on my cock.

A gull sang out, and Adorra stirred, stretching like a cat before snuggling back into me. I kissed her shoulder, and she murmured, “Morning.”

“Good morning. Did you rest well?”

She arched a brow. “You know how much rest I got.”

I smacked her bottom. “More than you should have. You ought to thank me for letting you sleep at all.”

“Insatiable,” she grumbled.

“True,” I didn’t bother denying it. “But only with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she teased.

I lifted her face because some things weren’t funny. “Only. With. You.” I repeated. Then I swooped down to take her mouth because I hadn’t waited to wake her so we could talk. Especially not when what she was saying didn’t make sense. If she still didn’t know, I was hers. I didn’t mind showing her… again.

I kissed my way down her neck, nibbling on her collarbone in a way I’d learned drove her mad when a buzzing stopped me. She froze, her brows pulling together before her eyes widened. “My phone, oh shit, it’s Aaliyah. She’s probably going crazy. I forgot to call her—” She slipped under my arms and dove for the bedside table.

Sitting up against the headboard, I patted my lap. Motioning for her to have a seat while she greeted her friend. Adorra hesitated, but I wiggled my fingers. She sighed and sat, leaning her back against my chest as she talked. I wrapped my arms around her waist and played with her breasts, listening to her end of the conversation.

“No, no, I’m fine. I know. I’m sorry. Everything’s great. It’s more than great. Xander is amazing.” She turned and shot me a look when I worked my fingers down to her slit. She was already wet.

I tuned out Aaliyah’s fussing as I worked my lady. I understood how she felt. If I’d been out of contact with Adorra, I’d go crazy too. Aaliyah’s next words froze my fingers. The speaker transmitted loud and clear as I sucked her neck. “So… how much dirt did you get on him? What did you find out? I need a report.”

Adorra stiffened in my arms. I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and slid her to the bed. She ended the call with a quick promise to call back. Silence filled the room before she said. “Xander, I can explain—”

I flipped my palm up, stopping her. “Start by telling me who you work for. Is it law enforcement? No, it can’t be. They’d never allow you to sex me. So, is it another family?”

“No, Xander, I don’t work for anyone. I swear. I don’t know what you heard, but—”

“I heard enough. Were you just using me to get information.”

Adorra scrambled to her knees, reaching for me. “No.” She bit her lip, and her eyes darted away—telling me everything. “I mean, yes—but it’s not like that—”

I grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around my waist in case Yaya was up making coffee. Adorra was still going on, but I didn’t hear a thing after she said “yes.”

She’d said yes.

Adorra

Here it was, the dreaded third act break up. I’d lived my Mafia romance book fantasy. Had the beautiful island romance, complete with steamy, wet, sea-filled kisses. I’d met his quirky family members and fallen in love with them. We’d spent our night discovering how perfect our bodies were for each other. We had everything going for us, and then, bam, a problem arose from out of nowhere.

If we were a book, I’d have thrown us across the room. These were the parts I despised. When the obviously perfect couple got into a heated argument over a misunderstanding. If the problem arose at less than seventy percent completed on my e-reader, I’d DNF that book and keep it moving. I never understood why two otherwise smart, savvy people didn’t realize they could solve all of their problems by just freaking talking to each other.

I stabbed at my sandwich with a fork. Picking at everything from the meat to the freshly made, still-warm bun. I’d love to talk to him if his ass hadn’t high-tailed it out.

“We need to talk,” Yaya said. Her dark brown eyes locking on mine.

I swallowed and set my plate aside. “Okay, what about?”

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, arched a brow, and waited.

I slumped in my chair. “It’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding.”

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