Page 5 of Mob Princess

“Short of me fucking you in here, Lina, there’s not much for us.”

“You’ve done that before. I go by Nikki. Why do you call me Lina?”

“Because I can, cailín.”

“What does that mean?” I feel like I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place where.

“Little girl in Irish.”

We’re looking at each other, so I’m certain he sees something change in my gaze because his hips rub against my pussy. I fist his suit coat and practically maul him. Those two words do something to me I never imagined. They make me feel safe. They make me feel precious. It’s been a long ass time since I’ve felt either of those.

“Lina, if we don’t stop now, we’re going to fuck. And as much as my cock is telling me we should, you are not a one-night stand kind of woman. You deserve better than against a wall in a storeroom.”

“And if I’m not?”

His hand tightens just enough to make me raise my chin. His entire expression hardens, and I’m looking at a Dom. I wonder if he is in real life or if that’s just his personality.

“You deserve the best of everything. Never settle, little girl. Never accept less.”

“But I won’t see you again. I don’t want to wonder what might have been. I want to know. I want to tuck that memory away for a freezing Canadian night.”

“Then let me take you out on a date. If you still feel this way, then we’ll talk about it.”

“You live in New York. I don’t.”

“If you say yes to going out with me, I will make it happen.”

I want to say yes. I want to scream it. But my life—my family—makes it virtually impossible for me to date.

I don’t answer fast enough because he steps back. He doesn’t let go entirely. His hands rest on my waist, but his body isn’t touching mine. It chills me to have that space after the furnace that held me in place a moment ago.

“I’ll give you my number. If you want to text me after you think about it, I’ll be sure to answer. If you change your mind and want to go on that date, I will make it work.”

“Okay.” I sound so brainless.

I look down to where I dropped my purse at some point. He steps back even farther as I bend to pick it up. My lips go past his cock and balls, and I nearly lick them—him. I get my phone out and hand it to him once I unlock it. He programs his number in. When he hands it back to me, I send him a message.

Me

The clumsy Canuck

He must feel it vibrate because he pulls it from his pocket. He grins when he sees my message. I feared it was lame. I watch him type something. Maybe it’s just my first name. We still don’t know each other’s last name.

Sean

The neighborly New Yorker

He sends a smiley emoji right after he pokes fun at himself. Our gazes settle on each other’s lips. But we know better than to start another round. He opens the door and looks up and down the hallway. He waits thirty seconds—I counted because I’d be doing the same thing if I were in the lead—before he steps out. He calls the elevator, and our hands brush against each other. Once it’s moving, our hands wind up with our fingers entwined. But it’s over too soon. The moment we get to the exit, my driver’s door opens. So does his. We let go.

“It was nice meeting you, Lina.”

He makes it sound so final. Like he doesn’t expect to hear from me again. We reach my car, and I shake my head at my driver. He scowls, and I shoot him a warning glower. I know he’s going to run straight to my brother and bitch. Fuck them both.

I reach for my door, but Sean’s arms are longer. I move out of the way as he opens it for me. I turn toward him.

“It was nice meeting you too, nounours.”

He chuckles. Fuck. He understood.

---