Page 91 of Secret Baby for the Mafia Don
"You push people away. You refuse to let anyone see past those walls you've built." My thumb traces his cheekbone. "You think vulnerability is weakness, and weakness gets you killed in this world."
"It does," he says flatly.
"But I know you." I hold his gaze steadily. “And it doesn’t make you vulnerable for me to know you.”
His expression remains neutral, but I see a flicker of something in his eyes. Like he wants to open up but refuses to let himself.
"You deserve to be loved," I say softly.
For a moment, I think he might kiss me. His eyes drop to my lips, his hands tighten on my waist. But instead, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed.
"I tried so hard to forget you," he confesses.
My heart flutters wildly as Marco Calabresi, the man who never admits weakness, is telling me I haunted him.
"But you were everywhere," he continues, one hand coming up to brush wet strands of hair from my face. "I couldn't escape you."
I smile up at him, my hands resting against his chest. "You don't have to." The moment the words leave my lips, I worry I’ve said the one thing that will have him retreat. After all, he doesn't want a long-term relationship. He doesn’t want a wife or family.
"I mean," I quickly add, "we have a few more days together while I'm your ward.”
His expression darkens instantly, a low growl rumbling in his chest. "Don't call yourself that."
"What? Your ward?" I ask, smirking up at him.
"Yes," he says, fingers tightening slightly on my waist. "It makes what I'm about to do sound perverted."
My pulse quickens as his meaning becomes clear. He wants me. Maybe not forever, but for now.
"And what are you about to do?" I challenge, tilting my chin up.
Instead of answering, Marco's mouth claims mine, hungry and demanding. I respond with equal fervor, my fingers threading through his wet hair, pulling him closer.
Marco's growl deepens as he backs me against the tiled shower wall. I savor the solidity of his body against mine. For all his darkness and danger, Marco feels like safety. Like home.
He peels my pajamas off, his hands roaming my body.
His erection is thick and hard between us, and I realize he’s planning to have sex without a condom again.
It speaks to his trust in me.
A trust he shouldn’t have.
I should tell him the truth.
Tell him that I misled him when I said everything was fine after our last condom-less encounter.
That there was nothing protecting us from creating a life. A life he's sworn never to want.
The words form on my tongue but dissolve before I can speak them.
Why ruin this fragile peace we've found?
Why shatter this connection when we've only just rediscovered it?
Instead, I let my hands slide down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palm.
"Let me take care of you," I say, pressing my lips to the hollow of his throat.
