Page 78 of Mafia Shade's Reluctant Bride
Maria huffed, rolling her eyes. “You know, if you weren’t so insufferable, you’d be halfway decent.”
“Halfway?” I raised a brow. “That’s generous.”
“Don’t get cocky,” she warned. “I’m still recovering. If I had my full strength, I’d throw something at you.”
“Recovering,” I echoed. “Is that why you’re still wrapped in that blanket like some ancient Greek philosopher?”
She patted the duvet around her shoulders. “This is comfort. You wouldn’t understand.”
I leaned down, bracing a hand on the back of the chair she was sitting on. “I don’t know,” I murmured. “I think I’d understand just fine. Girls wrapped in duvets are my specialty.”
Then, she tilted her head, a smirk playing on her lips, teasing but strained, like she was using humor to anchor herself. “If I knew you were into girls wrapped in blankets, I would’ve used this technique sooner.”
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head, but my voice came out rougher than I intended. “Yeah? That’s your strategy? Seduction via extreme coziness?”
Her breath hitched, and in that heartbeat of hesitation, the air in the room seemed to disappear, and what was left was a familiar comfort and desire wrapping around us like the very duvet she had cocooned herself in. Neither of us moved, but something shifted, and it was impossible to move when her eyes were locked on mine like that.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric, knuckles going white, yet her eyes glinted with something dangerously tempting. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”
The way she said it, breathy and playful like she was testing a boundary that we both knew didn’t exist anymore, sent a deep and primal wave rolling through me.
I took a step closer, close enough to feel the warmth of her body seeping through the thick layers between us. My fingers brushed the fabric, just barely, but even through the barrier, I could sense her, heat radiating and chest rising and falling just a little too fast.
“Alright,” I murmured, my voice lower now, the amusement edged with something darker, something raw. “I’ll bite. Is the goal to make me agree or just to see how far you can push before I do something about it?”
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her eyes flickered with a bit of uncertainty, desire, and a silent challenge, which made me realize she wasn’t just playing anymore. Neither of us were.
“Lorenzo,” she whispered. It wasn’t my name—it was a plea, a breaking point wrapped in a single breath.
Weeks. We had been toeing this line for weeks, testing the boundaries of restraint, and pushing and pulling until we were frayed at the edges. Every glance, every lingering touch, every sharp inhale when we got too close—it had all been leading to this.
And now, there was nothing left to hold onto. The walls, the excuses, the pretense—they had crumbled.
I knew if I didn’t speak now, I would never be able to.
“Maria,” I exhaled, my fingers tightening slightly on the fabric between us. “I have never seen you as a sister but as a woman who I have wanted so badly but couldn’t have because she was my best friend’s sister.”
The confession left my lips like a sigh of relief and a curse all at once. The feeling of it settled between us, knowing this was inescapable.
Maria’s breath stilled, and her gaze locked onto mine, something flickering behind her eyes. Then, just for a second, her gaze dropped to my mouth.
A small shift, barely perceptible, but it was enough. Enough to shatter whatever thread of resistance I had left.
I reached up slowly but deliberately, tracing the edge of her jaw with my fingertips. Her skin burned under my touch, warm and alive. Her lips parted slightly, her breath feathering against my own, unsteady and expectant.
She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The acceptance, the longing—it was all there, raw and unguarded. And that was all it took.
I closed the distance, and the moment our lips met, everything else ceased to exist. My lips came crashing into hers. It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was the kind of kiss that came after years of knowing someone too well, of pushing and pulling and pretending the tension didn’t exist.
Maria’s fingers curled into my shirt, pulling me closer. I tilted her chin up, tasting the remnants of something sweet on her lips. She sighed into me, and for a second, everything else faded—the past, the teasing, and the years of trying to keep things just a little bit out of reach.
When we finally pulled apart, she blinked up at me, dazed. “So,” she breathed. “That happened.”
I dragged my thumb over her jaw, “Tell me to stop it now, and I will.”
She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “Shut up and kiss me again.”
And who was I to argue.
