Page 50 of Corrupted Heir (Mafia Kings: Corrupted 1)

I tried to focus through the haze of heat that was wrapped around me. It made my muscles weak despite the coil that was winding tighter in my core.

“Do it,” he whispered, breathing warm air against my neck.

I squeezed the trigger, and the bullet found its mark, a little closer to the bull’s-eye this time.

Instead of celebrating, I leaned back harder against him, searching for his lips. I wanted to feel them against my ear, my neck.

“That was better,” he breathed. “With enough practice, you might be almost as good a shot as me one day.”

As good of a shot as him? He was an expert shot, wasn’t he? How old had he been the first time he’d held a pistol? The first time he’d fired a shot? The first time he’d killed a person?

I surged away from him as a sharp shiver charged down my spine like my spinal fluid had been replaced by liquid nitrogen.

“All right, Annie Oakley. It’s my turn,” he said, stepping in front of me.

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed, just as frustrated with my body’s own response to him as I was with the man himself. “I have no interest in being an expert at killing people.”

He turned to look at me with his eyebrow raised. “You might have no interest in going on a citywide killing spree, but I guarantee that the day you’ve got a gun pressed to your skull, you won’t have any qualms about killing the motherfucker.”

He spun back around, raised his gun in front of him, and emptied his whole clip straight through the bull’s-eye.

“Contrary to what you seem to think, I’m not a cold-blooded murderer,” he said, holstering his gun. “But I won’t die—or let the people I care about die—just so I can pretend the world is full of fucking sunshine and rainbows.”

“I never said you were—”

“I know what you think,” he snapped. “Your eyes give you away every time.” He took the gun from my hand and returned it to the case on the small table.

I had no idea why I felt like crap when he was the one who killed people and did God only knew what else.

“I’m sorry,” I said through gritted teeth because it was absolutely insane that I was apologizing to the Undertaker.

“No worries,limone,” he said, shutting the case and flicking the clips into place. “I think that’s enough training for one day. We should go.”

I followed him out of the room, back through the reception area to his car. He opened the passenger side door for me without a glance, but as I slipped inside, he caught my wrist and pulled me to him. His lips were on mine before I could make sense of what was happening. Warm and firm, he tasted like coffee with just a hint of scotch. I didn’t know what it was about the combination, but it never ceased to draw me in, to make me want to delve deeper.

Heat coursed through my veins, lighting a fire between my thighs as his tongue slipped between my lips, gliding along my tongue.

This was wrong. Some part of me knew it, but I was just so tired of caring.

I grabbed onto his shoulders as he released my wrist and took hold of my hips.

He pressed me back against the passenger door until he’d molded every part of me to his hard frame. A hard frame I could so easily picture now after seeing him when he’d walked out of the shower. The smooth planes of his chest. The wide breadth of his bare shoulders. The rippled perfection of his abdomen.

I slid my fingers down and slipped them beneath his jacket as he pulled his lips away and started a hot trail down my jaw. His lips were warm, and his breath whispered against my skin, sending tiny sizzles of current throughout my body.

Without missing a beat, he slid his hands beneath me and lifted me up, then placed me down on the trunk of his car.

“Open your legs,” he said against my skin, then he pressed himself between my thighs as I complied. Closer and closer, until nothing but thin clothing separated us.

His lips continued down my neck, but as I tipped my head back to give him more access, I caught sight of the black car across the street. Inside it, a man sat in the driver’s seat, staring right at us. And in the car behind it, another man was watching us.

A cold tremor fired down my spine despite the heat that was pumping through my veins.

“Dominic?” I said, angling away from him. “We need to leave.”

He sighed and stepped back, his hands still on my hips. “What’s wrong,limone?”

“There are people watching us,” I whispered.

---