Page 4 of My Mafia Queen

Yes, this isn’t any better than what happened downstairs when he flat-out refused my advances, but this doesn’t mean he can’t hidehow he truly feels about me.

There are things in his eyes, and it’s a mixed bag––I’m not gonna lie. Good things and bad things. He is not one hundred percent one thing.

He can’t be.

So, a storm brews in his eyes, and my presence here only fuels it.

He’s torn.

Damaso Salla is torn.

He’d end my life if he deemed it necessary, yet he can’t press his lips against mine.

I know why he has reservations, and I find it wise and mature on his part. A kiss is only a kiss. And it can mean nothing, and the memory of it may be gone in a day or two.

I don’t want this to happen as much as I want it to happen.

And I’m torn as much as he is. But there is more.

His lust for me is real. And it’s even more significant than mine.

He knows things I don’t know.

He can anticipate what might happen in the future.

Stuff I wouldn’t be able to predict.

He even knows how I’d look naked under him. And how I’d feel.

What he knows is just a blur to me.

I can imagine things, but my imagination doesn’t measure up to the reality of us.

The glint in his eyes tells me he is going over several scenarios while I can’t come up with one.

My mind is blank when it comes to this. I’m nervous. And slightly fearful.

A kiss might change my life forever.

It could yank me off my path and toss me into something different.

A kiss might lead to a lot of‘everything else,’and many things could happen once I’m under him.

I might be hurt and broken in the aftermath, disappointed and on the verge of desperation, and a bit lost.

Or I might feel nothing.

I might be numb.

It might just be another thing I might need to get over with and leave carelessly behind.

Aside from seeing him torn, lustful, and stirred up––while stubbornly fighting his instincts––I notice a glimmer of consideration for me in him.

As if he'd care about what happened to me if he gave in and touched me in ways that would become a turning point in my life.

That pang of humanity appeals to his wisdom, and from the faint regret flickering in his eyes, I also gather the future is uncertain.

For him and me. And us together. But these are thoughts, and thoughts never make history.

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