Page 17 of Mafia Don's Secret Heir
The air between us is electric, every nerve in my body alive and buzzing. I know what he’s doing. He’s testing me, pushing me to see how far I’ll let him go, how far he can pull me into his world.
And the worst part?
I want to say yes.
Instead, I take a small step back, trying to catch my breath. “I don’t need you to pour wine into my mouth, Luca,” I say, although I know I’m fighting a losing battle. “I can drink it myself.”
His smirk returns, slow and knowing, as if he expected that answer.
“Maybe,” he says, his voice a soft purr. “But it tastes better this way. Trust me.”
He steps even closer, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek. The heat of his touch seeps into my skin, melting the last of my resolve. I remember how he took care of all I have left as family. There was no need, but he did it anyway.
My lips part before I can think, before I can summon even a shred of resistance.
His mouth crashes against mine with a force that steals the breath from my lungs. His lips are warm and demanding, molding mine to his will, and I find myself leaning into him, my hands clutching the edge of the table behind me for balance.
His tongue sweeps against my lower lip, a question and a demand all at once. I let him in, my head tilting back as he deepens the kiss. The aftertaste of wine floods my senses, rich and heady, mingling with the dark heat of him.
His hand slides into my hair, tangling in the strands as he tilts my head further, angling me just how he wants. The other moves to my waist, his fingers splaying across my side with a possessive pressure that leaves no room for doubt.
It’s not enough.
I reach up without thinking, my hands curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. His chest is solid against mine, the heat of his body searing through the thin layers of fabric between us.
Luca growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against my lips, and suddenly the kiss shifts. His tongue tangles with mine, a push and pull that leaves me dizzy, overwhelmed.
His teeth graze my lower lip, sharp and teasing, and I gasp into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sweeping against mine with a hunger that leaves me breathless.
I press closer as his hand moves from my waist to the small of my back, pulling me against him. His grip is firm, unyielding, and I feel the hard lines of his body against mine, the softness of his lips, the insistent slide of his tongue.
His other hand tightens in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp again, and he swallows the sound greedily, his lips never leaving mine.
It’s almost too much, the way he devours me, the way he claims every inch of my mouth as though it belongs to him.
I should pull away. Instead, I kiss him back with everything I have, meeting his hunger with my own. My nails scrape against his chest, earning another low growl from him that sends a shiver racing down my spine.
He breaks the kiss just long enough to drag his teeth over my jaw, his lips trailing fire down my neck. “You taste better than the wine,” he murmurs, his voice thick and rough.
I’m trembling, my breath coming in uneven bursts as he pulls back to look at me. His eyes are darker now, hooded with lust, and his lips are slightly swollen, glistening in the candlelight.
I want him to kiss me again.
Luca seems to sense it, because his hand moves to my face, his thumb brushing over my lips. “Say the word, Valentina,” he says, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. “Say yes.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, I lean up, my lips finding his in answer.
This time, the kiss is slower, but no less intense. He takes his time, his tongue sliding against mine in a rhythm that has my knees threatening to buckle. His hands are everywhere, cradling my face, skimming over my waist, trailing fire up my spine.
My fingers tighten in his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing me harder against the table, his body crowding mine.
He bites my lower lip, just enough to sting, and I moan softly into his mouth. The sound seems to ignite something in him, and the kiss turns feral, his teeth scraping, his lips demanding.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath hot against my lips, I realize I’m shaking.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, his hand trailing down, resting for a moment on the half-moons of my breasts before snaking to my belly, and then between my thighs. I moan once more as he pauses. I don’t want him to pause.
He searches my eyes for a moment. And then he smiles, a real smile this time, one that transforms his face, softening the sharp angles and making him almost unguarded.
