Page 6 of My Mafia Queen

“Don’t leave,” I say, grabbing his wrist.

He stops and relaxes against his pillow, but I’m not sure that means he’ll stay.

“Please don’t leave,” I say again.

Slowly, he runs the edge of his teeth over his bottom lip and shakes his head, a thoughtful look on his face.

“We can’t be in the same bed.”

He finally rolls onto his side to face me, and we stay like that to continue to talk.

I know what he’s about to say.

That I should just get my cash and leave.

Grab my things right now.

I could get home in four or five hours.

Stay away from men like Boris and other people who might be planning to track me down and fuck with my life.

Maybe this is not what he has in mind, and I’m projecting.

Whichever the case, I don’t move.

“We can talk in the same bed,” I suggest.

“It won’t be only talking if I stay.”

A soft smile tickles my lips.

“Why are you so protective of me?” I ask, catching him dip his eyes below my chin.

Pleasure and sexual hunger glint in his eyes again.

As if he’s trying hard not to indulge himself.

How hard would it be for someone like him to take what he wants?

Not that hard.

He’s probably done it many times, but he’s not doing it now.

“Someone has to be protective of you. No?” he says, his features relaxed, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

He lifts his eyes and looks at me, and anticipation rises in both of us. I can tell.

A few seconds pass, and he brings his hand to my neck, cups the back of my hair, tilts his mouth to mine, and murmurs against my lips.

“If I enter you tonight, no other man can enter you unless I’m done with you,” he says, and a shiver zaps through me.

Done as in what?

Not ending me, I suppose.

Done as in kicking me out of his life?

I get the message, as open to interpretation as it is, and I wish I could say my judgment is not desperately impaired.

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