Page 142 of A Very Mafia Christmas (Arranged Marriage 4)

"Hmm…" I hunch my shoulders. Am I actually going to give in to this ploy of his? Am I going to fall for this, the oldest trick in the book? Don’t agree to it; don’t agree to it. I jerk my chin. "What do you want in return?"

"For you to wear my ring."

"I’m already wearing your ring." I hold up my left hand with the wedding band on it.

"You know which one I mean." He pinches my engagement ring between his thumb and forefinger. "Wear it for me," he murmurs, "please, Flower."

And fuck, I can’t refuse him when he asks me in that soft voice of his. Goddamn him. I hold out my hand, and he closes the distance between us and slides it onto my left ring finger. I take in how the two rings complement each other. I angle my fingers, and the light from the window bounces off of the golden stone in the center. The tiny diamonds sparkle, and my vision blurs for a second. I blink away the moisture in my eyes, then pull my hand back from his.

"You got what you wanted," I whisper. "Are you happy now?"

"I’ll be happy when you take me back."

"So, you’ll let me tie you up now?"

He holds out his wrists. "If that’s what you want..."

"I want," I lick my suddenly dry lips, "to have you at my mercy."

His gaze intensifies, and a flush stains his cheeks. "Do it," he orders.

I almost laugh. He can’t stop himself from ordering me around, can he?

"Wait here." I spin around and head for the bedroom, only to hear his footsteps behind me. I scowl at him over my shoulder. "Thought I told you to wait?"

"Not good at following orders, Flower."

I toss my hair as I reach into the bottom drawer of my dresser and pull out a length of satin-covered rope.

"Well, now," he murmurs, "you’ve been planning for this, I see."

"Maybe I have." I jerk my chin in the direction of the bed. "Lie down."

He seems like he is about to refuse, but finally, he nods. He prowls over and sprawls out on my bed. It’s a queen-sized mattress, and the man seems to take up every inch of space on it. He spreads his legs, and his pants stretch across his thighs. The fabric at his crotch tents; the throbbing in my core intensifies further. Damn it, I haven’t even touched him, and already, I’m so turned on.

"You still plan on tying me up?" he drawls.

"What?" I raise my gaze to his face.

His lips curve in a smile that lights up his features. "It’s okay if you are admiring certain parts of my anatomy."

"Go to hell."

"Only if you’ll come with me."

I snort. "Only you would say that and think it’s romantic."

"If I’m with you, baby, it’s always romantic."

A hot sensation stabs at my chest. Why does he have to be so charming? It makes it so difficult for me to maintain my distance from him. I flounce over, then clamber onto the bed and into the 'V' between his legs. He holds his wrists out, and I loop the rope around them. I knot it once, twice, then loop it again.

The heat of his body embraces me, and his scent intensifies. I’m very conscious of how he doesn’t take his gaze off of my face as I complete my task.

"Stop staring," I mutter.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

No, it actually is insanely hot, but I’m not going to tell him that. When I’m certain that his wrists are secure, I push his wrists up and over his head. Which means I have to lean over him. My breasts brush his chest. The neckline of my shirt gapes. I glance down to find his gaze transfixed on my cleavage.

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