Page 49 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
I followed the sound, stepping into the kitchen—and I forgot how to breathe. As soon as I saw her, every sense in my body forgot how to fully function because my eyes were not just seeing her. They were tasting her.
Maria.
Dancing.
Cooking.
Wearing that.
The silk clung to her, teasing just enough skin to make a man think of how she would look without it. That was all that was on my mind. Her bare legs moved in an effortless rhythm, hips swaying as she stirred whatever was in the pan.
My mouth went dry. Maria, the ice queen, was moving like she had fire under her skin and like she knew exactly what she was doing to me without even trying.
It was unfair.
I should have left. I really should have left. The more I stared at her, her buttocks twerking to the pop music sound, the more I wanted to hold them firmly, have them on that counter, standing as I spread them apart.
Fuck! I should leave.
Instead, I leaned against the doorway and watched.
She turned mid-step and froze when her gaze locked onto mine.
Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening as she startled at the sight of me. “What the hell, Lorenzo!” She exclaimed.
I smirked. “Enjoying yourself?”
She straightened, her composure snapping back into place like she didn’t just lose it. “What are you doing here?”
I pushed off the doorway and slowly strode into the kitchen. I moved close enough to see she was making pasta and to smell the rich smell of berries on her skin. I was closing the space between us. “I didn’t know you had moves.”
Her brow lifted. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
I kept moving, and she didn’t step back. But when I didn’t stop, she began to back up a little till her back hit the counter.
I braced my hands on either side of her, caging her in. I wasn’t just smelling her. I could feel every inch of her without touching her. Her breath came faster, and her pulse was visible at the base of her throat. She smelled so good—sweet, warm, and intoxicating.
Fuck.
“What else don’t I know?” My voice was lower now, rougher.
Her gaze flickered down, landing on the food before snapping back up to me. “The taste of my cooking.”
I tilted my head. “That’s what you think I want to taste?”
Her fingers clenched against the counter. Her eyes locked on mine as soon as the words left my mouth. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t. It was almost like I took the words right out of her mouth.
I wanted to push. Just a little more.
“You sure about that?” I murmured, my lips inches from hers. “I want to taste other things.”
Her throat bobbed. “What other taste?”
She trailed off, and my eyes followed hers. That was when I heard the sound of footsteps.
Voices.
Luca’s voice.
