Page 73 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
He cuts off my rambling excitement with a kiss. And, sure, we’ve had a few kisses between us, but…yeah. This is the kiss.
Can I get a spare canister of oxygen in here?
Anthony trails kisses from my mouth to my jaw to my ears, his whispered words rough and sensual in equal measure. “If you're interested, I have a few ideas about how we can celebrate.”
His eyes track down my body, hungry.
My back arches as he lays sucking, open-mouthed kisses down my neck. “Fuck yeah. Let's celebrate by doing terrible things to this scrawny body of mine.”
His chuckle is somehow both amused and dark, and I shiver as he levers off the chair, taking me with him. I wrap my legs around him, then press my lips to his as I push my fingers through his thick, blond hair.
“This is my new favorite thing, being carried around. I might need to have you update our service agreement.”
I freeze as soon as the words leave my mouth. The last time I brought up his employment resulted in a very quiet flight back from Vienna.
His reaction this time is way different.
“So any of my men can carry you around like this?” he asks with a smirk.
I shake my head and add a little shimmy to it, relieved as fuck. “Uh, no. I’d specify that only my big strong man can do the job.” Humming to myself, I warble out, “I've got a boyfriend.”
“I don't know what I’m going to do with you,” he says, shaking his head, that fucking dimple still on full display.
I attempt a pout, but my mouth isn’t cooperating. “I thought you said you had ideas.”
We’re at his bedroom door within seconds, but he hangs back, his face serious. Well, serious but affectionate. Serious but loving. Serious about me in his arms.
“I don't do anything in half-measures, Mads. I don't follow half the law, I don't tell half-truths, I don't protect you halfway. And I don't sort of love you, regardless of how that first came out.”
I put my hand on his chest, equally serious as I still my body and make sure he sees me paying attention.
“Anthony, I know people see me as this happy-go-lucky person with a joyful approach to life who maybe isn't always the most mature. I get that. But I didn't get to where I am by going half on anything either. It's full Superman extension or nothing at all for me.”
I stretch up for a kiss, and his resulting shy smile has me over the moon.
“Anthony…I’ve known you were beautiful from the beginning, but it didn't take me long to see that whatever you have going on below the surface, you are a man of principle and protection. And when I tell you I've never felt safer, I mean that you protect me at a cellular level. I have never felt that way before. Not with my family, not with my first million, not with my first billion, not with any of it. I mean…am I wrong?”
He shakes his head. “You’re not wrong. I want every element of you to feel safe.”
“And that? Is the thing money can’t buy. I’m not going to lie—I love being rich. I love owning a successful company. I love being able to ring up my private jet and go wherever I want to. But gun to my head, if I had to choose between every dollar I own and you, I’d choose you every time. I can always make more money. I can't make another you.”
Anthony inhales deeply and exhales slowly, pressing his forehead to mine. “Thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome. Now take your clothes off.”
He grins, and I help him pull his shirt over his head.
“There are easier ways to do this,” he says, narrowly avoiding an elbow to the eye when I pull too hard on his shirt and almost flail right off his body.
I scramble to keep my hold on him, crossing my ankles behind his back. “Yes, but you’re my Avenger, and I want you to carry me.”
Shaking his head at me, he does a much better job of removing my shirt while I still glom myself onto his front. Bare-chested, we kiss, and he blindly reaches for the door. Slamming me against it, he kisses me harder as he fumbles with the knob before finally letting us in.
His room is simple but not spare. He has a few built-ins, and like the rest of his place, the walls are white, allowing the elements in the space to give it color. He’s got a big bed and a nightstand, and that’s it.
More importantly, he’s got a better view of the park than most multi-million-dollar units. He must keep the styling simple so the view is the feature, not the things. And doesn’t that sound like the man I’ve fallen in love with?
He lets me down by the side of the bed, and we stand there for a moment, holding each other, rocking into each other.
