Page 46 of The Mafia King's Baby

When she looks at me like that, with complete trust and something that looks dangerously close to deep affection, my carefully constructed arguments start to crumble. This isn’t just about Washington or operational security. It’s about what wemean to each other and what could build between us. “I can’t guarantee your safety in Washington,” I whisper again.

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to let me stand beside you instead of hiding behind you.”

The kiss happens without conscious decision. One moment, we’re arguing about Washington and tactical considerations, and the next, my mouth is on hers as she’s pressing against me with desperate urgency. She tastes like coffee and temptation. When she opens her mouth under mine, I lose track of every rational objection I’ve raised. She fists her hands in my shirt, pulling me closer, and I back her against the wall beside her bedroom door.

When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. The argument about Washington seems distant now and less important than the heat building between us. “This doesn’t solve anything,” I murmur against her lips.

“It doesn’t have to.” She tugs at my shirt, pulling it free from my pants. “We can argue about Washington later.”

“Later.”

I capture her mouth again, deeper this time, tasting her thoroughly while I explore the curves of her body through her clothes. She feels perfect under my touch, soft and warm and completely focused on what’s happening between us.

Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt with increasing urgency, and when she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, her hands immediately move to explore my chest. Her touch burns against my skin, tracing old scars with gentle curiosity.

“So many.” Her voice carries wonder rather than pity as she maps the evidence of my violent life. “Do they hurt?”

“Not anymore.” I catch her hands and press them flat against my chest. “Do they bother you?”

“No. They’re part of you.” She looks up at me with eyes that are dark with desire. “All of you.”

I reach for the hem of her sweater, and she raises her arms to let me pull it over her head. The sight of her in just a simple bra makes my mouth go dry, and when I trace the line of lace with my fingertip, she shivers and presses closer.

“Beautiful.”

“So are you.”

The compliment surprises me, but before I can respond, she’s kissing me again, her mouth hungry and demanding. I walk her backward toward the bed, taking my time with each step, each touch, and each kiss that makes her breath catch.

When the backs of her legs hit the mattress, she sits down and looks up at me with complete trust and desire. Her hands move to my belt, and I let her undo it slowly, enjoying the way her fingers brush against my stomach. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” The simple word carries everything I need to hear. “All of you.”

I kneel between her legs and reach behind her to unclasp her bra, letting it fall away to reveal breasts that are still perfect in my hands. When I lean down to take one nipple in my mouth, she arches against me with a gasp that goes straight to my cock.

“Yefrem.”

I love the way she says my name, breathless and wanting. I work my way across her chest, using my mouth and teeth to find the spots that make her fingers tighten in my hair and soft sounds escape her throat.

Her jeans follow her bra, along with the simple cotton underwear I remove with reverent care. The white fabric is translucent over her wet pussy, revealing every detail as I carefully peel them away. When she’s completely naked beneath me, I take a moment to appreciate the sight. Long legs, soft curves, skin that glows in the lamplight, and a shy clit peeking out her puffed lips.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

I look from her pussy to her gaze. “That you’re perfect. I want to memorize every inch of you.”

“Then do it.”

I start with her feet, kissing and caressing my way up her legs while she watches with eyes that grow darker with each touch. When I reach the sensitive spot behind her knee, she gasps and tries to pull me higher.

I resist. “Not yet. Let me worship you properly.”

I take my time with her thighs, discovering that she’s ticklish on the inside and sensitive just below her hip bone. By the time I reach her pussy, she’s trembling with need.

“Please.” She practically whimpers the word.

I smile slowly. “Please what?”

“Touch me. Taste me. I need?—”

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