Page 70 of Mafia Obsession

If I touch her now, it will be because I don’t have control of myself. Restraint is my superpower tonight.

I grab the shade control and hit the button until the room goes pitch dark.

“Go to sleep, little storm. Tomorrow, you can join me out on my boat,” I say, tossing the remote on the bedside table. “I’d like to take a look at the shelf damage for myself if I’m going to invest money to fix it.”

Lourdes nods and closes her eyes. I can tell she’s fallen asleep in a few minutes. As her breathing deepens, she turns slightly in her sleep, her hand wandering and landing on my chest.

Fuck. Me.

Chapter 25

Lourdes

Iwake before Ares opens his eyes. The soft hum of the electric shades automatically retracting makes me look toward the row of windows. A glow of sunlight sits on the horizon through the gauzy curtains, casting the bed in soft gray.

Staying as still as I can as to not ruin this quiet moment, I take in my fill of Ares without his notice. Even in sleep, he looks under control. Composed. Elegant.

I don’t share my bed lightly.

Yet here I am. Staring at the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s a picture of masculine perfection against a room still hazy with morning mist.

Ares lies on his back beside me, one arm flung over the pillow, the sheet draped low down to his hips. The sleep pants he’s wearing look new.

Perhaps he doesn’t know they are paper thin. I saw the outline of every curve last night. Every muscle.Everymuscle. His size and the beauty of his cock are things I can’t even think about without feeling aroused. I bet a man as potent as Ares can smell a woman’s arousal.

I softly prop myself up on one elbow and let my gaze wander. My fingers itch to trace his regal nose and cut jawline. Run my hands through that thick black hair. His face is relaxed. Awake Ares can be his evil twin. Asleep Ares has soft lines around his eyes. His age is just a number. There aren’t any gray hairs at his temples. His muscles are like carbon rings, signaling the years it took to craft his perfect body.

I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest, the dark sweep of his lashes against tawny skin.

He doesn’t look ruthless right now. He looks…human. And that’s what will break me. Thinking it’s not dangerous to fall for a man like this. I can’t disappear into this life with him. Not when Sandrine needs me.

Still, I gaze down his chest and back to that long line of muscle disappearing beneath the sheet. My pulse stirs low in mystomach.

His eyes open without warning. One blink and he turns his head to me. He’s not groggy. Not confused. Instantly, he’s alert, and the softness is gone.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice rough.

Heat floods my face. “Do you always wake up like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a switch has been flipped and you have problems to solve immediately.”

His mouth curves faintly. “I have enemies. It’s a useful habit.” His gaze drifts over my face. “How long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough. You don’t snore. I appreciate that.”

He huffs a quiet laugh and rolls onto his side, propping up on an elbow as well. “And how do you wake up? I missed it.”

The comment strikes a nerve. He missed it. Missed…me.

“I don’t know. I never woke up to anyone staring at me to tell me how I sleep.”

“I watched you last night.” He fingers the sheet between us.

“And?”

“You sleep like you’re bracing yourself.”