Page 5 of My Mafia Queen

He peels his gaze away from me and drags it over my body.

My breasts are encased in my fitted dress, like my hips and thighs. He moves his hand down, trailing the contour of my body and my thigh, and then slinks his fingers under my hemline and slowly rolls it up.

Only a little.

It’s enough to make room for his hand and move it up between my thighs.

I pose minimal resistance.

All right, zero resistance, parting my thighs just a little while sucking in a troubled breath and closing my eyes.

I’m full of sexual tension despite having so little awareness when it comes to it.

Tingles swirl between my legs, and all I want is to draw my thighs together and have the pressure of his hand against my sex so I can get myself off.

My breaths turn shallow, making me dizzy in a second.

I slowly gasp.

“You haven’t been with a man…” he says quietly as if finishing his examination.

What has given me away? How turned on I am? The stiffness in my body?

The warm wetness and arousing scent between my legs?

What exactly?

He must’ve known this for a while. He must’ve had a suspicion.

That’s why he said what he said at the pool.

He’d given it a thought before that moment.

Maybe he figured it out when he touched me in front of the Russian.

How do men know that? I don’t know. Maybe not all men know that.

Maybe he knows that.

“No.”

“How come?” he asks, pulling his hand away from me before placing it on my hip.

“It didn’t happen.”

‘You didn’t like them?”

“I didn’t want them, so yes… Maybe I didn’t like them too,” I say, drinking in his eyes and lips.

A soft smile tilts his lips.

“You like me?” he asks, slightly entertained.

I take my time to respond.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t like you.”

He studies my eyes before starting to roll to the other side of the bed as if preparing to pull away.

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