Page 101 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

“Shhh, bambina. We don’t want to waste any.”

“God, it is literally so wrong how hot that is.”

I pulled my finger free and stood up. “But you love it.”

Without meeting my eyes, she reached to turn on the shower again. It was as if she didn’t want to answer me, like she was embarrassed that I’d noticed this about her. When she reached for the soap, I grabbed her face and forced her to look at me. “It’s not wrong to like what you like, even in bed. Capisce?”

“I just . . .” She blew out a long breath, her eyebrows drawing low. “Is everyone like this? Or is there something about me that craves this particular power dynamic? Why do I get so—?”

I shut her up by kissing her. I ate at her mouth and held her close, letting her feel my tongue and the reassurance of my touch. Sicilians didn’t like a false face; we appreciated honesty in all things. So while I didn’t have answers for her, I needed her to know that it didn’t matter to me. We were good together, an equation that added up—and that was all that fucking mattered.

“Emmalina,” I whispered as I dropped kisses along her cheek. “There isn’t a thing in the world wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“Thank you.” She petted my shoulders and arms, running her hands over me, before shifting her body into the spray. “We should finish showering. There’s a water crisis in many parts of the world.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX

Emma

He was already in the gym when I came downstairs, attacking the heavy bag like it had offended him. A t-shirt with no sleeves showed off his arms, and his calf muscles popped as he moved and punched. I remained perfectly still, enjoying the view, until he said, “Stop staring at me and get over here.”

I walked over and set my towel and water bottle on the floor. “How did you know I was there?”

He stopped and turned toward me. A bead of sweat rolled down the column of his throat as he stripped off his gloves. “Bambina, I could practically hear you panting across the room.”

Liar. I hadn’t made any noise whatsoever. “Can you blame me? You’re a legit thirst trap, marito.”

Lifting his shirt, he wiped his face, which gave me a nice view of his spectacular abs. “I don’t know what that means,” he said, “but if it gets you wet, then I like it.”

I bit my lip to hide my smile. I was always wet around this man, but he didn’t need to know that.

He eyed my tight workout bra and leggings. “Do you run in that outfit?”

Glancing down at myself, I checked to see what he would have to complain about. “Yes. Why?”

“Next time you do, I want to watch. Your tits look fucking fantastic in that top.”

“They do?”

He snagged me around the waist and brought me into the cradle of his large body, then gave me a hard kiss. “Fuck, yes. You’re very sexy, bambina.”

I was about to suggest we forget boxing when he released me. “First, you need to protect your hands. Come on.”

He led me to the ring, where a pair of gloves and long wraps waited. “Let me see your hand.” I held up my left hand and he took one of the wraps. He started around my wrists then began wrapping around my palm and fingers, working fast, like he’d done this hundreds of times. When he dropped my hand I examined the finished job. It was perfect.

“Comment?” he asked as I held up my other hand.

“No, I was thinking it was very impressive.”

As he wrapped the other hand I stared at his fingers, so thick and strong, but gentle with me. A barrage of questions hovered on the tip of my tongue, my brain desperate for information when it came to this man. “How did you start boxing?”

“At school I got into too many fights. I was angry all the time. So when I was ten the school told my father I couldn’t come back unless I stopped fighting. He dropped me off at a gym.”

“And you loved it right away?”

“No, I fucking hated it. Those old men beat the shit out of me on a daily basis.”

My eyebrows flew up. “That’s terrible. They could’ve killed you.”

---