Page 67 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Is this why some of the mafia women go back? Is it the magnetic pull, the thrill of power? But those women are scared to death of their men they’re trying to escape. They’re clearly abused. So why…?
I stop the thought before I can finish it.
“Harry.”
Turning, I lift my gaze to him. “Yes?”
“Hand.”
I put it on him, but he takes it and raises it to his mouth, kissing it. Then he leans in and kisses my lips and then my throat, where his tongue traces a vein, making it throb.
Then he moves to my ear. “I may be loving tonight. Dirty. Filthy. Whatever I do, you act like you love it. And Harry? You’re not to come.”
“What do you mean?” I swallow. Come? Oh… God, is he…? “What do you mean, loving? I can’t pull that off.”
He laughs and sucks on my earlobe. “You can. Just think of when I made you beg for more. Just think what could happen to you if you don’t.”
My breath stops. He’s flirting and threatening me? What even is he?
And why does it make me so goddamn wet?
But he straightens up before I can say or do a thing as we make our way to the first floor.
The car ride to SoHo is silent and tense. Torin is on his phone. He’s focused and it pisses me off that he’s ignoring me. It’s only when I get restless that I realize he’s very good at multitasking because his hand snaps down on my bare thigh, burning my skin with his luscious heat.
He doesn’t look up from the phone. “Don’t fidget. I’m working, and you’re a distraction.”
“Sorry I moved.”
He finishes what he’s doing right as the car pulls up in front of a building with people gathered outside. “It’s not you moving, per se. You’re just… distracting.” And his hand squeezes my thigh, making me melt and jump and quiver. He sticks his phone in his pocket and kisses me so hard my head spins.
I’m still coming up for air when he opens the door and gets out. He holds out his hand. I take it and he pulls me toward him. “That’s better. You look the part now.”
Fury sweeps me and I dig my nails into his hand as we walk into an exclusive bar of low lights and well-dressed people.
My legs shake as I realize half of them are the kind of people I keep away from. Mafia. The underworld. Criminals. Thank goodness I don’t recognize any women, but I do recognize some of the men.
Not because I know them personally, but from my work with the church. I store their photos as part of my research when helping the abused women. I like to put faces to names.
Although now… as Torin’s unwilling bride, I can no longer be the first contact point in our network. I’ll have to do something else. Or?—
“Focus,” he says as he greets a few people.
Torin’s not exactly rude, but he’s definitely not working the charming end of his Irish nature, either. He leads me to a booth and sits us down, arm slung around my waist.
He orders drinks and then nuzzles my throat, and my God, it’d be easy to pretend he’s not who he is and to just drown in all the sudden pleasure and attention.
His fingers dance over my thigh, light touches that spark a thousand fires within. And I feel myself sliding back down into that same place I was when he took my virginity on our wedding night, when my entire world was just him. And I was a vessel for his whims.
“Torin…”
I feel sick.
“Torin, stop.”
He’s stroking over my panties now. I gasp for air, trying to settle this earthquake rumbling within me.
