Page 10 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

Without any words being spoken, he guides me toward the bed, his hands gentle but insistent as he lays me down on the cool, silk sheets. The room is filled with the sound of our breathing, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.

He climbs on top of me, his body pressing down, and for a moment, he just looks at me, his eyes dark with intensity. There’s something in his gaze that sends a shiver through me, something powerful, possessive, and yet filled with a kind of tenderness I’ve never seen before.

“You’re safe with me, Emily,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me, settling deep in my core. “I’ll take care of you.”

“No need to bullshit me. We both know it’s just one night.”

“I mean it.”

He lowers himself onto me. The warmth of his body envelops me, and I can’t help but sigh, the tension I’ve been carrying for so long melting away under his touch.

He moves slowly, deliberately, his hands tracing a path down my sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before his lips find mine again, claiming them in a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s a kiss that demands everything, and I find myself giving it willingly, losing myself in the taste of him, the feel of him against me.

He lowers himself onto me again, his body sliding against mine, skin to skin, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Every inch of him is warm, solid, making everything else fall away.

His hands are everywhere—tracing the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist, the swell of my breasts—like he’s memorizing every part of me.

When he finally enters me, it’s with a slow, deliberate thrust that steals the breath from my lungs. I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders, holding on as he fills me completely.

It’s overwhelming, this connection between us, and I can’t help the soft moan that escapes my lips.

“Emily,” he groans, his voice rough with need, and the sound of my name on his lips sends a thrill through me. “You feel so good.”

He sets a rhythm, slow and steady at first, each thrust deep and controlled, like he’s savoring the way our bodies move together. There’s a dominance to his movements, a confidence that makes me trust him completely, makes me want to surrender to him in every way.

But as his pace quickens, I feel the pleasure building inside me, coiling tighter with every thrust, every brush of his skin against mine.

It’s like he knows exactly what I need, exactly how to touch me to drive me to the edge, and I find myself responding to him without thinking, my body arching into his, needing more, needing everything.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the intensity of my need, and he responds with a deep, guttural moan that sends a shiver down my spine. “Don’t stop.”

He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispers, “I’ve got you, Emily. Let go. Come for me.”

And I do. I let go of everything—the fear, the doubt, the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on me—and I lose myself in him. His name is a whisper on my lips as I come undone, the pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense it’s almost too much to bear.

He follows me over the edge, his movements becoming more erratic as he reaches his own climax.

His body tenses, and I feel the moment he loses control, his head dropping to my shoulder as he groans my name, his breath hot against my skin as he spurts deep inside me, his cock twitching, his body falling still.

For a long moment, we stay like that, our bodies still joined, our breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath. There’s a silence between us, but it’s not empty—it’s filled with the weight of what we’ve just shared, something deeper, something more than just physical.

When he finally lifts his head, his gaze meets mine, and I see the same emotion in his eyes that I’m feeling—something that goes beyond words, something that’s real.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, and I smile against his mouth, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the heat of our bodies.

Then I realize something I should have realized sooner. We didn’t use protection. I’m a fucking moron. So’s he. Neither of us mentioned it.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.

6

LUCAS

She’s gone.

I wake up to the soft light of dawn filtering through the glass walls of my penthouse, casting long shadows across the room. The world below is slowly stirring to life, but there’s a strange silence in the space around me—a silence that feels wrong.

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