Page 77 of Assassin's Obsession

"You feel desire for me." The still hard penis between us is testament to that.

"Yes." He closes his eyes, almost like he's in pain. "And it's playing hell with my intentions right now."

"I thought psychopaths were all about getting their needs met, no matter what."

"You realize that as a made man, I am not going to visit a psychologist, right? I don't have a neat diagnosis for the way my brain is wired."

"Can you feel love?" He's already claimed to love me, but if he can't feel that emotion, it's a lie. And he promised he wouldn't lie to me. "Do you have a conscience?"

If he doesn't, it won't bother him to lie to me.

"Define a conscience. Do I feel guilt for killing the enemies of my family? No." He starts to spread conditioner onto myhair, the yummy scent of coconut intensifying. "Do I feel guilt for killing men or women who would destroy the people most important to me? No."

"That sounds like you don't have a conscience then." Which explains why he finds it so easy to cut a man's hand off for touching me, but not why he would do it.

"Do I feel something inside me that is acutely unpleasant when I see you unhappy? Yes." The angles of his handsome face are harsh with intensity. "Does the need to take care of your sister and mom spring from my need to take care of you? Yes."

My heart speeds up, because although he's answering the question about his conscience, what he's describing sounds a lot like an assassin's version of love. It's not going to be hearts and flowers with Angelo, but I'm not a hearts and flowers kind of girl.

Obsession works for me in a way that casual interest wouldn't.

Maybe knowing I'm his focus is what makes me feel safe.

"Is that a conscience?" He pulls me close and rubs his hands up and down my back, and then massages my bottom as the steam swirls around us. "Maybe not. But it's what happens when a man who has no soul finds one."

Unless my ability to read people has suddenly taken flight, he's not lying. For the first time, Angelo's assertion that I'm his reclaimed soul rings true. And it touches emotions that I do my best to protect but am well aware of having.

Angelo believes that I give him the equivalent of a conscience.

Maybe not a fully realized one. He couldn't be top enforcer for the Cosa Nostra godfather if he was squeamish about killing, or doing the other things he has to.

But the fact that Angelo cares about my mom and my sister's well-being is more important to me than his job title.

Yes, I'm aware that makes me a little bit like him. The people I care about are more important to me than the people who end up in Angelo's crosshairs. And one thing I'm certain of is that my family and friends, like Bianca and Piper, will never be there.

Because I am his soul.

And he won't hurt me, adding him to the list of three people I believe that of absolutely: Mom, Cookie and my best friend, Bianca De Luca.

"My conditioner has been in long enough." And I've waited long enough for what comes next.

Sex.

Angelo doesn't move, but his hands on my butt feel so good, it's hard to complain about that. "Xabat said to leave it in for at least three minutes. It has only been two and a half."

"I don't think thirty seconds is going to make or break the silkiness of my hair. My hair has done just fine with bargain shampoo and conditioner and no special hair masks all my life. We are not doing one more thing to put off sexy times."

He smiles patiently at my rant, which probably took the thirty seconds he wanted to wait anyway.

"Doesn't that hurt?" I point at his rigid erection, still leaking from the tip.

My nipples ache with pleasurable pain. I'm positive it wouldn't take more than brushing against them for me to have a mini-orgasm.

"I'm used to it being this way around you."

"You spend hours at the club like this?"

"Sometimes."

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