Page 110 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

What I want.

I know it’s not right. She might not want this. Hell, I probably just ruined her whole life.

But I don’t fucking care.

Under my lips, she’s stiff, and I hate it. I hate that she might hate me.

When I want her so damn badly, I can’t fucking stand it.

I scoot my hand around to the back of her neck, gripping her tightly, twining her beautiful hair in my fingers as I tug gently. Roisin gasps, and I take the opportunity to explore her mouth.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I want you so fucking bad…

She moans, and my world lights on fire.

Roisin kissing me back changes everything. The hunger roaring inside me softens, turning into something less violent.

But no less hungry.

Her fingers trace the outline of my jaw, trailing down my chest. I love how strong she is, how capable and tough she is.

And even though I know it’s completely illogical, all I want to do is protect her from every fucking asshole with a gun that wants to hurt her.

I break the kiss, moving along the side of her face, kissing and licking until I find the place where her neck meets her shoulders. I bite, gently, rewarded by a little moan from her that makes me go harder than the fucking granite around us.

“Marco…”

Something loud screams by. A truck, a bus, I don’t fucking know.

It’s enough to snap me out of my frenzied state.

I lean back, panting, staring at Roisin. Her eyes are wide, and I can see a red mark forming at her neck.

It gives me an insane amount of satisfaction to know that I marked her.

She parts her lips, swollen red from our kiss. “Why?”

“Why what?” I growl.

“You didn’t want to kiss me in the church.”

The worry in her eyes makes my stomach churn, but I put my hand up, gently cupping the side of her cheek.

Warily, she looks at me before leaning into my hand for just a fraction of a second.

“Every time I kiss you, Roisin, I don’t want to stop,” I whisper. The truth feels painful to let go, but her eyes snapping to mine encourage me to keep going.

I gently run my thumb over her lips.

“Every time I kiss you, I want more. I want to fuck you senseless, until you’re screaming my name, and every fucking time it’s not the right time,” I practically growl.

Her cheeks flush red, and I’m reminded that when she blushes, it spreads down her neck in a very, very sexy way.

“So no,” I grit out. “I didn’t want that old fucking man there. I don’t want to kiss you in a car on the side of the road, or in a hot spring. I want you where I can have you, and until you name the time and place, I can’t fucking kiss you like I want to. Because if I do, I won’t ever be able to stop.”

I drop my hand, the truth hanging uncomfortably in the car. I pull back out, following the road as we drive back toward the little cabin that I rented.

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