Page 14 of Owned By the Mafia

“Seriously?” she mutters.

I look at her stoney-faced. “Yes.”

I take out my gun and close the living room doors behind me. I meticulously make my way through every room and inspect every possible hiding place. Once I’m confident it’s completely secure, I ensure it’s all locked up and activate her alarm.

I open the living room door to find her seated on the luxurious sofa, her legs tucked underneath her. Her high heels are carelessly tossed off near her, and there’s just something about that image—her dressed in pantyhose, a smart skirt, and a blouse that makes me want to rip it all off her and fuck her hard.

People say I’m crazy or insane, but they have no idea what I’d do to touch this woman. To lie by her. To be inside of her.

She looks up at me from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Are we hitman free?”

“Don’t joke. You need to take this seriously. Your life is in danger.” I watch as she stands up.

“When did you ever take anything seriously,” she says as she walks toward the door.

I step in front of her. “In case you forgot, I took you seriously.”

She looks up at me, her eyes shining. “You fucking stalked me. You drove me underground because I couldn’t go anywhere without you having eyes on me. You’re a psycho, Robbie, that’s all. Nothing more.”

She pushes past me, and I turn my head to watch her go down the hallway to what I presume is her bedroom. I note which bedroom door she walks through and shuts before I sit in front of the television.

I knew the stalking bothered her, but I always hoped she’d see that my obsession for her was more of a compliment than a danger. Ronan has always said I am too extreme in everything I do. Maybe I am, but what’s wrong with being passionate?

I pull my jacket off and lay it over the one arm of a sofa, and then I unbutton my shirt. I slide out of it. If I’m going to sleep on the couch, I’m not doing it in a button-up shirt.

I kick my shoes off, pull my socks off, and sink into the seat's soft cushions. I sit there, staring at the television.

I should put on something for background noise and sleep; that’s what I should do. I shouldn’t bother her, speak to her, or make her feel uncomfortable. There’s so much that I want to tell her, but I don’t have the words.

She is in every atom of my being. There is nothing without her. I put her to the recesses of my mind by focussing on work, but now that she’s so close to me, I can’t pretend as though there isn’t this devil of an attraction that I have for her.

And I know she has it for me. I’ve seen how her eyes have traveled up and down my body, inspecting every chiseled inch of muscle. The way she glances at my crotch, how someone would look at a photo in fond remembrance.

She may come across as a professional and calm to the outside world, but I know that deep down inside her is that little girl who liked to ride my dick until she was paralytically intoxicated from too many orgasms.

I smirk to myself.

The number of times I’ve had to make myself something to eat after sex with her because I do it right, and she can’t take two steps on those jelly legs once I’m done with her.

The smell of her sex is etched into my brain, and it’s a smell I will never forget, and I shouldn’t have to. I look back at the hallway and sigh.

When you know you’re right, you know you’re right.

I stand up and pace the room. I need to get rid of this excess energy. It’s dangerous. But I can feel my semi-hard dick already twitching with excitement.

I pause as I hear the sound of running water through the pipes.

She’s having a shower.

My dick stands at full mast.

Chapter 8 - Dinara

The thought of this pervy little stalker being in my home, where I need to sleep, makes me feel all kinds of ick. When I shut my bedroom door, I lean against it and take a few deep breaths.

I nearly had a heart attack when I was shot at, but I couldn’t let them see that. Then I had to catch my breath and act as though Robbie sheltering me and then shooting back at my attackers wasn’t the hottest fucking thing alive.

How can I find the man who made my life a living hell sexy? My panties are dripping just thinking of how overprotective he is of me. I shiver and undress, shoving my clothes into the hamper before I walk into my bathroom and turn the shower on. I rinse the sweat from my body and lather the soap on my body.

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