Page 14 of Cassio (Belles & Mobsters 3)

His hand slid to the middle of my waist, then reached for my hands. Our hands clasped for a few heartbeats, then he brought them around his neck. I held my breath and then slowly released it, my body still feeling relaxed. I felt drunk. But not from the shots I consumed. I felt drunk off of him, and he’d barely started dancing with me. I inhaled his luscious scent and my insides quivered.

The warmth of his body could easily become an addiction. I should talk, say something. Yet, I couldn’t find a single word. Instead, I soaked up this moment like a woman dying of thirst because I was certain it would end at any moment. Physical closeness has always been difficult. No idea why or how, it just didn’t work.

“You know wearing a suit is not a costume, right?” I blurted out. Wonderful, of all the things to say, I blabbed the most idiotic one. Even if my body, by some miracle, didn’t go into panic mode, this man would.

“Sure it is. A businessman,” he replied. I threw my head back and laughed.

“That is not a costume.” My eyes roamed over his three-piece Brioni suit again. It fit him like a glove. “Maybe a mobster?” He raised his eyebrow and gave me a weird look. “What?” I asked defenseless. “You could go for an Al Capone look or something.”

The slightest grin lifted the corner of his mouth and my heart thundered under my ribs. I was wildly attracted to this man. I didn’t even know his name, but none of it mattered. It was as if everyone and everything disappeared, leaving me alone with him and this electricity that was a novelty to me.

Panic will kick in any second now.It had to; it always did. I didn’t want it to, but it was inevitable. Maybe I could touch him before it happened.

I threaded my fingers in the dark strands of his hair, touching the back of his collar. His hair was softer than I imagined. I wondered if his lips would be even softer.

A thought flickered in the back of my mind warning me this man wasn’t soft. Yet, he was thrilling. Exciting. I wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as I could before the broken part of me kicked in and rejected the close proximity of this gorgeous male specimen. I deserved that much!

He inched his face closer and the air sizzled with something intense. My breath hitched in my throat and languid heat rushed through my bloodstream, making my head feel light.

The air in the club was heavy, the music a distant noise in my brain as I danced with a man I knew nothing about. Not even his name. And there was something so enticing about him, I wanted to hold on to him for as long as I could.

“It’s a good look,” I murmured softly. “You could be a good mobster.”

Gazing into his soulful eyes, I felt like I could get lost in them. My heartbeat fluttered and my skin burned like I was too close to the sun. His hands on me felt good, but I craved more. It was like my body finally woke up from years-long slumber and demanded satisfaction.

The sweet spot between my thighs ached, the attraction like a drug through my veins. I imagined him slipping that tattooed hand between my thighs and over my sweet spot. Would his touch feel good, or would my body betray me? I wanted to test the waters.

Oh my gosh, my panties were on fire.

I bit into my lower lip, contemplating how to ask him to take me somewhere and touch me. Normally, I’d break a man's hand if he tried to touch me, but nobody had ever stirred a fraction of this sensation. Especially a stranger, but this man… something about him unraveled me. Shook me to my core.

His teeth grazed across his lower lip and warmth filled my stomach. I stared at his mouth, urging him silently to kiss me. I never kissed strangers. In fact, I rarely even initiated or returned a kiss when I had a boyfriend. A platonic boyfriend at best.

I just assumed I was broken and didn't like anything related to physical closeness.

We stared at each other and everything around us faded into background noise. He inched closer and my body buzzed while nervousness vibrated under my skin. The butterflies in my stomach worked in overdrive, and I held my breath.

His lips touched mine as “Scars To Your Beautiful” by Alessia Cara played, and somewhere far in my mind, I acknowledged it seemed appropriate. I have been bad at love, scarred somewhere in the depths of my mind that I couldn’t even grasp or comprehend. Yet, right now, I felt whole. Perfect.His!

My heart raced so fast, I worried I’d lose my breath. My knees weakened at the sensations pouring into me, the press of his lips against mine soft. I rubbed myself against his hard muscles, our mouths a perfect mold together. Soft and wet. He slid his tongue inside my mouth and I thought I’d just turn into a puddle.

With this stranger’s soft and warm lips on mine, his scent overpowering me, I was lost. Every inch of my skin was on fire. For him! His one large hand moved down to my lower back, heat radiating through the flimsy material of my costume. His other hand grasped my face, his thumb under my chin, tilting my face so he could kiss me deeper.

A moan climbed up my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I heard nothing but the wild beating of my own heart in my ears. Felt nothing but him. The way he kissed was madness. It felt like being devoured and savored at the same time. He tasted of mint, fruit, and alcohol, the oddest but most intoxicating combination.

I kept waiting for the old ghosts to kick in. Yet nothing.

No panic.

No frozen fear.

Just pure, unadulterated desire.

He captured my top lip between his, kissing me with possession. Like he knewme; like he had been waiting for me his entire life.

My heartbeat hammered against my ribcage. His kiss made me feel alive; made me feel everything.

A tremor ran through me, but I refused to stop the kiss. Instead, my hands clutched at his nape, unwilling to let go. Like he was my life raft - difference between life and death out in the wild storms hovering over the oceans. I pressed my body harder against his, rubbing against him. All my reason out the door and instinct kicked in.

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