Page 40 of Tempting My Mafia Monster

Cristo. He couldn’t possibly mean that. Every rational part of my brain knew how toxic it was. But the real me, the one I hid from the world, had always craved that kind of passion. It felt as if I were chosen. Not in a simple way, but in the deepest possible way. As if, out of everything dark inside him, he’d made a space just for me. This man, who was all storm, had put me in the eye of it. And I liked how that made me feel. Maybe that made me as broken as he was.

He started using his arms to haul his chin over the bar, his muscles tightening and expanding with the effort. When he reached fifty, he dropped to the ground and began his push-up routine.

I watched him with a deep ache in my chest and emotion lodged in my throat. I curled up on the mattress with the book and pencil, composing the saddest, most passionate masterpiece I’d ever created. If I ever had the chance to play it, I knew it would rip my heart out.

I named it My Monster.

All I Need

“Why do you do that?” Raya asked as I flipped all the puzzle pieces face down.

“What?”

“Turn them all over so you can’t see the picture. Doesn’t that make it harder?”

“Not for me. I prefer to look at the shape rather than be distracted by the picture.”

“You know,” she said, leaning back against my chest as my arms reached around her to group the pieces by shape and number of tabs. “I’m really judging you right now, reading into what this tells me about you.”

The corner of my lips curved. “Psycho analysing me, eh? Is that right?”

“Si.“ She wriggled her hips on my lap, and I dropped my mouth to her shoulder, giving her a playful bite. She giggled, pressing her head against mine and bunching her shoulder to get me off. “That tickles.” I let go and went back to the puzzle. “I think it shows you’re a methodical, analytical thinker. And slightly obsessive.”

“Hm, only slightly?” I teased as I added a piece of mane to the horse. I’d never thought about my personality traits, but she was probably right.

I liked to pretend I had a structure to my days that I controlled. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Work out. Shower. Do something creative, like reading, drawing, or tattooing. Have lunch or dinner, and whatever purpose I was removed from the bunker that day, before coming back.

But I’ve found a new obsession that’s taking up all my time.

For someone who had violent thoughts and impulses every time another person touched me, Soraya’s touch was the exception. I knew the moment I kissed her. She felt like a beacon in my damned darkness. She was the one thing that made me feel peaceful and human again. Alive. Her skin against mine, her lips, her tongue, her pussy, fuck. I couldn’t get enough of her or that feeling.

Through her eyes, words and body, she made me feel things I’d never believed I was capable of. I had no idea how she’d done it. Somehow, she’d clawed her way beneath my darkness and searched for a man I’d been convinced was never there. But she’d found something. Or someone. And he belonged only to her.

I shifted in the chair as I grew hard beneath her.

“What kind of puzzler are you, then?” I asked, giving up on the task because I’d rather wrap my arms around her and let her take over. “Don’t tell me you’d start with the edges.”

Her curls tickled my face as I rested my chin on her shoulder, watching.

“Of course I’d start with the edges first. I’m not a psychopath.”

I smirked as she started spreading the pieces out on the table, turning them over so she could see the picture.

“I like to see everything,” she said, sweeping her hands over the pieces to spread them across the whole table. “That way I know what I’m working with and there are no surprises. Then I sit back and scan, memorising all the shapes and colours. After the edges, I start grabbing pieces that I can see fit together instantly.” She picked up two random pieces from the table and connected them.

I frowned. “Then you’ll end up with lots of sections all over the place.”

“Yes, but they will all fit together eventually. You just need to be patient.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me? Being patient?”

She twisted her head to look back at me with a smile. She’d been asking too many questions. She wanted to know how McKenna controlled me, why I’d come back the other day spaced out and covered in self-inflicted cuts, and about my past. But every question demanded an answer too close to the haunting memories I kept buried.

Instead, I’d asked about her. She was more than happy to tell me all about her childhood and life in Verona, but she never failed to turn the attention back to me.

“Yes. Luckily for you, I’m a very patient person. I’ve had years of experience.”

I held her tighter, burying my face into her hair and nibbled at her ear. My hands roamed under her hoodie and started groping her very fuckable tits.