Page 141 of Mafia King's Broken Vow
The space steals my breath—floor-to-ceiling windows devouring the city, soaring ceilings, furniture that whispers luxury. But what stops my heart are the details: security panels, cameras tucked into corners, locks that could stop armies.
All protecting me.
“This is yours?” I move toward the windows, city lights bleeding through glass.
“Ours.” He prowls up behind me, hands claiming my hips through thin fabric. “Part of my deal with Nikolai and Igor.”
I spin in his grip, searching his face. “What deal?”
“I’m back in,” he says, watching for my reaction. “Security consultant for Volkov Enterprises. With benefits, including this place.” His grip tightens. “And freedom to build something real. With you.”
The words detonate through my chest. This isn’t temporary shelter. This is forever.
“You’re asking me to move in.” I need it spelled out, no room for misunderstanding.
His blue eyes burn with vulnerability and steel. “Yes. I want you here, Mila. With me. Where I can keep you safe. Where we can create something that belongs to us.”
“Something like what?”
His palm cups my face, thumb tracing healing wounds with devastating tenderness. “Something permanent. Something nobody can touch.”
The raw honesty in his voice shatters my defenses. This lethal man is offering everything—home, future, his scarred soul.
Instead of words, I surge up and claim his mouth. The kiss starts careful, mindful of healing flesh, but ignites into desperate hunger. His arms crush me against him as his tongue conquers mine in movements we’ve perfected through stolen nights.
I gasp when he lifts me, powerful hands cupping my thighs as he carries me deeper into our sanctuary. My legs lock around his waist, bringing his hardness against exactly where I’m already aching.
“We need to go slow,” I remind him weakly as he lays me on silk sheets that feel like sin.
“I’ll start gentle,” he promises, voice thickening with need as he covers me completely. “Until you beg me to break you.”
His mouth devours mine, and I surrender to the fire that’s consumed me since he walked into that hospital room. My hands tear at his sweater, mapping granite muscle while avoiding fresh bandages.
“I need you,” I whisper against his lips, already destroying his clothes. “Right now.”
Primal possession flashes in his eyes as his hands find the zipper of my dress, slowly sliding it down as his lips trail fire along my neck. His fingers explore, edging my dress off my shoulders, capturing my breasts in his palms, thumbs rubbing across my nipples that could cut glass. He kneads my flesh possessively, teeth grazing my throat before latching onto my breast through the fabric of my bra.
When I arch my back into his touch, he chuckles darkly, trailing hot kisses down my stomach. “Eager, little doctor?”
“You’re edging me,” I accuse. “That’s not very nice.”
“You don’t want nice,” he reminds me. His fingers find the sensitive spot at the edge of my panties, stroking teasingly. “How did you put it before? Oh, right, I’m merciless.”
“Please,” I whisper, rolling my hips into his touch. “Don’t make me wait.”
I cry out when his fingers finally slip beneath my panties and begin rubbing slow, torturous circles against the most sensitive part of me.
“Mila,” he breathes, pushing one finger inside me, then two, carefully spreading me open, preparing me. “So wet for me. So ready.”
His thumb resumes those slow, rhythmic circles, coaxing waves of pleasure through my core that leave me clutching at the sheets with helpless need.
“Oh God,” I gasp as his fingers curl against that deep place inside me that only he can find. “Don’t stop.”
“I want to taste you,” he says, voice husky, lower lip slightly fuller from the pressure of his teeth. “Will that be slow enough?”
My breath hitches, already anticipating what his mouth can do. “Yes. Yes, absolutely yes.”
“Mila,” he warns, slowing the pace of his fingers, making me whimper with need. “Say it.”
