Page 43 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

He’s always been dominant, always in control, but there’s something different tonight—something more raw, more primal, as if the barriers he’s kept up are finally coming down.

He growls, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, pulling me flush against him so I can feel every hard line of his body pressed against mine. “And I want you, Emily. All of you. I’m done pretending otherwise.”

I gasp as he lifts me effortlessly, pinning me against the cool tile of the shower wall. The contrast between the heat of his body and the chill of the tile sends a shock through me, making me cling to him even tighter, my fingers digging into his shoulders as I try to steady myself.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against my neck, his voice rough and possessive, his breath hot on my skin. “Do you understand that? No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

His words should scare me, should make me want to pull away, but instead, they ignite something inside me—something wild, something that’s been waiting for the right moment to break free.

I want to tell him that I’m his, that I’ve been his from the moment he first touched me, but the words catch in my throat, lost in the intensity of his gaze.

“I’m yours,” I manage to whisper. “Only yours, Lucas.”

The admission sends a shudder through him, and I feel his grip on me tighten, his control slipping as the desire between us spirals out of control.

He kisses me, hard and desperate, his lips claiming mine with a ferocity that takes my breath away. There’s no hesitation, no holding back—just raw, unfiltered need.

My hands are in his hair, tugging him closer, and I can feel his growl vibrate against my lips, a sound that makes my entire body tremble with anticipation.

The water is a constant rush around us, the heat of the shower mingling with the heat of our bodies, and it’s almost too much, almost overwhelming.

But I don’t want him to stop. I don’t want this moment to end.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands against my lips, his voice rough, commanding. “I want to hear you say it.”

I’m shy, always have been, but with Lucas, I feel different—bolder, more daring. He makes me want to be brave, to show him that I’m not afraid of this, of us.

“I want you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can second-guess them, my voice trembling with both fear and desire. “I want you, Lucas.”

A low, satisfied growl rumbles in his chest, and I feel his hands slide down my body, his touch setting fire to my skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “You’re going to get all of me, Emily,” he promises, his voice a dark, sinful whisper. “Every last inch.”

He moves, his body pressing into mine, and the sensation is electric, a shock of pleasure that has me arching against him, my breath catching in my throat. It’s too much, and yet not enough, and I can’t help but cling to him, my nails digging into his back as I lose myself in the sensation.

“Lucas,” I gasp, the sound of his name on my lips a surrender. I’m his, completely and utterly, and there’s no going back now.

The hot water cascades over us, the steam curling around our entwined bodies like a protective cocoon, shutting out the world beyond the tiled walls of the shower.

His hands are everywhere—strong, sure, and infinitely tender as they glide over my wet skin, sending shivers down my spine that have nothing to do with the temperature. His touch is a mix of urgency and reverence, like he’s both devouring and worshiping me at the same time.

His response is a low growl, a sound that vibrates through his chest and into mine, making my pulse race. He holds me tighter, pulling me flush against him until I can feel every hard line of his body pressed into mine.

His lips brush against my ear, his breath hot and ragged. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that makes my knees weak. “Give in to me.”

His hands slide down my back, his fingers tracing the curve of my spine, the dip of my waist, before settling on my hips. He pulls me closer, his mouth trailing a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck, down to my collarbone, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes my lips.

I’ve never felt this way before—so wanted, so cherished—and it’s overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

His hand moves lower, between my thighs, and I gasp, my head falling back against the cool tile as his fingers find their mark. He’s slow at first, gentle, coaxing me to relax, to let go, and I do—because with him, it feels so easy.

The sensation builds slowly, a simmering heat that spreads through me, making my skin tingle, my breath come faster.

“Lucas…”

He responds with a low hum of approval, his fingers working magic on my clit, his other hand holding me steady as my legs begin to tremble.

“You’re so beautiful, Emily,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “So perfect.”

I don’t have time to respond, don’t have the presence of mind to form words, because he increases the pressure, his movements becoming more deliberate, more intense. The pleasure spikes, sharp and sudden, and I’m lost, completely undone by the sensations coursing through me.

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