Page 107 of Revenge on the Mafia

I stared at him. “Did you take a ruler and measure?”

He gave me a wicked smile and said, “Nine-nine-seven-four-seven-e.”

I blinked. “Is that your bank account number?”

“Better. That’s the color of your lips.”

I didn’t delve into it. I wouldn’t survive that. “Is that why you have my name tattooed?”

“No. I kept forgetting it,” he replied dryly.

Glaring at him, I jumped off him and commanded, “Clothes off.”

He gripped the back of my thigh. “Promise me you’re mine.”

I leaned down and breathed the word, “Always,” before I kissed him. He gripped my nape and fell into the kiss. It was sweet and soft. Hot and possessive. He pulled me down onto his lap. I dropped down but ended the kiss. “Stop distracting me.”

He laughed softly but sat still and allowed me to finally undress him. Each pop of his shirt brought me closer to revealing his secret. I did it slowly, taking the time to brush my hands on his skin, baring his tattoo inch by inch.

“There’s more,” he said through half-lidded eyes.

I pushed him back, and he fell onto the mattress obediently. He lifted his hips so I could work on his pants and boxer shorts. When they landed on the floor, I took a step back and stared at him.

¡Diso mío! He was right. I’d never be able to win this game. His entire left side, from the tip of his toes to the star on his chest and sliding down to his wrist, carried the most beautiful bougainvillea vine. Intertwined with it, my name sparked like a star in the night sky. Anna. Anna. Anna.

My throat went dry. Bending down next to him, I traced my name. Finding one threading across each vein, on a pulse beat. “This isn’t love…” I counted another one and another. “It’s obsession,” I murmured.

“Call it whatever you want. I’m yours.” He pulled me up and rolled me to my back. “To do with as you wish.”

“I lost count.”

“One hundred and thirty-two.”

“What’s special about it?”

He kissed the pulse fluttering behind my ear. “Figure it out,” he murmured before dragging his mouth down to give me butterfly kisses.

I tried to calculate, but he was a distraction. Moving down my body, murmuring soft words in Italian, running his rough hands over my skin. Before long, he had my dress off and my underwear ripped. Then he continued to worship my body, each kiss a promise. Each word a forever.

He had one mission. That was to prove his obsession. He thrust into me. Caging me with his touch and his eyes. Then he moved. Slow and steady. It felt like he was giving me his soul. He kissed my eyes, my lips, my nose, my everything. He promised me his world. He promised me his heart. He delivered all of it in a rough voice filled with emotion and Italian words. I arched under him. I melted into the mattress. I wanted to linger in that moment forever but cried out and came so suddenly and so intensely that it felt like a shock to my system. He groaned into my neck, his entire body trembling, his hands biting into my skin as he jerked inside me.

“Mine,” he muttered right after, before pressing a kiss to my forehead.

Our heartbeats struggled to catch up. Sweat gliding off our skin. The smell of sex still thick in the room. I pressed my hand on his chest. His heartbeat could DJ at a nightclub.

“Mine for fucking forever. Convinced?” The rasp of his voice was sandpaper on my velvet skin.

“Might be,” I replied vaguely because I couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about.

A rough laugh hit the dip between my neck and shoulder, before his teeth sank into the tender flesh on my neck. A shiver ran down my spine. Then he rolled onto his back and took me with him.

I traced the star on his chest. Over and over again, while his heartbeat slowed down.

“How about the third man?”

He lifted his head, a question in his gaze.

“Well, I’m keeping you,” I told him.