Page 6 of Claiming His Mafia Princess

This time, when his lips touch mine, I have no fight left. I give in to his warmth and the taste of expensive liquor that coats his tongue. There is no light. I can’t see his face, or the kiss of the devil — but I can feel his intentions.

I allow myself to kiss him, to get lost in this darkness where I cannot see the face of the villain who owns me now. Here in the pitch blackness he is just a man, that is kissing me, his hand dangerously close to my silk shorts, ghosting over the part of me that has betrayed me more than my family. I feel the clench of desire. The want for him to touch me — but no one has ever touched me besides me. One fingertip softly brushes the silk and I moan into his open mouth.

Oh. My. God.

Nevio possesses me in the darkness. He doesn’t need to restrain me — I willingly cave into the feelings his kiss stirs inside me. No one has ever been this close, been able to kiss my breath away and then resuscitate me with theirs.

Ihave had dreams about the man I’d end up with — that he would know how to make me feel good. I never imagined it would be a villain who won me in a poker game.

Nevio makes a sound that ripple through me like a growl.

The vibration only turns me on more. My pussy has only ever been this wet when I play with my secret toy. The one I keep in the drawer beside my bed. I use it when I have made myself all worked up reading sexy books. I may be a virgin, but I am not innocent.

My skin ripples with goosebumps, and I want to stay in the dark, in this kiss forever. If the lights turn on, I will have to face the reality of Nevio and how I ended up here. I don’t think I want to know why my brothers did this — that thought is more frightening than Nevio’s hands on me.

Something has to be terribly wrong.

But it feels good, the way his lips taste, and his hands command my body. I like it, there is a warmth building inside me.

Nevio stops, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. My God, that kiss was like nothing I have ever felt before. I shudder just thinking about it, and immediately I want more — I don’t want him to stop kissing me. It’s like I need him to touch me so I can forget that this is all real.

“It’s past your bedtime.” He growls, and I shiver at the vibration of his voice so close to my ear.

When the car door opens and the interior light casts a golden glow onto his face, I see him, really see him. I have never looked at Nevio. It is rude to stare and it would have been staring. Only because before now I would have looked at the red mark spilling out over his collar, not into his eyes, or at the way his hair falls into her face, which is younger than I thought it would be up close.

In the haze of post-kissing bliss and the dim light, he isn’t half a monster; he is actually quite beautiful. The man looking at me doesn’t look like the killer I know he is.

Chapter Four

NEVIO

If I don’t stop myself right now, I will deflower Dalila right here in the front seat of my car, and that isn’t what I want.

She’s worth waiting for, taking my time with, she isn’t going anywhere — she is mine and I plan to enjoy her.

She tastes like sin, and I am hungry for more.

I open my car door, stepping out into the garage. The lights are off, but I know my way around. Walking to the passenger side, I open the door for her and hold out my hand to help her climb out. She stumbles, slipping on the wet runner-boards, falling straight into my arms. Her half naked body pressed into mine. I suck in a breath, praying for self-control. Lord help me, I do not have many virtues, but I want to wait.

Dalila is here, and I do not want her to hate me. I want her to know that I saved her from far worse.

No one has ever been inside this house and left again — not alive, that is. She rights herself, still crushed against me. She must be freezing in those thin pajamas. We need to get inside where the heating is on, and I can decide exactly what it is I plan to do with Dalila Vece. Ushering her through the security door that leads from the underground garage up into the main house, I notice just how petite she is beside me.

The house is warm, my tense, stiff body relaxes inside the comfort of my sanctuary. Her eyes dance around, looking at everything. She folds her arms over her chest to warm herself up. Her hair is a tangled mess from sleeping and my hands in it. She looks sexy and scared all at once.

“It’s late.” I say, because it is, but also because I have no idea what else to say. “We can go straight to bed, and I will make sure you get your things tomorrow.” Her big green eyes glitter up into mine, and I can see the tears shining in them. I don’t want her to cry — or be afraid. For just once in my life, I want someone to want me — to stay the night and not turn their eyes away from me when they see me.

“Where is my room?” She asks me, her voice shaking as if she shivering.

“With me,” I say without hesitation. If I am doing this, then there will be no half measures.

“You’re going to be my wife. There is no point in having separate rooms.” There’s a flash of fear in her eyes before she nods. Mafia daughters are raised not to ask questions or argue — she’s a feisty brat who doesn’t always follow the rules, but I think she is too afraid to push me. “Come, Dalila, you don’t need to be scared.”

She is terrified. I can smell fear at fifty paces — I can’t blame her. She wasn’t prepared for tonight’s events. Neither was I. I still can’t quite fathom why her brothers did this, or where our fathers were and how come hers didn’t stop me taking his prized daughter. Something still doesn’t feel right. I’m uneasy about my victory.

“Are you going to hurt me?” She asks softly.

I am not stupid. I know my reputation. I may be quiet and unassuming, but everyone knows how many corpses have my personal stamp on them.

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