Page 6 of The Mobster’s Nurse

I spin around, and a gasp bursts from me. "Excuse me?"

"Again?" There's that twitch of his lips again. Like the whole world is a big joke and I'm just another punchline. "That's twice. You're excused. Now, you heard what I said. A woman like you, Elena⁠—"

"People call me Ellie."

"Friends? Is that what you want me to call you?"

"I didn't say friends," I snap. "Just that … people call me that."

He raises his eyebrows as if he's delighted with my outburst, like it's his sole purpose for being. I'm not even sure why I corrected him. Stupid slipup. Making him think I care.

"A woman who was willing to stand up to her boss, when she was only twenty-two … I refuse to believe that you want these animals to get hurt."

"Of course not," I hiss. "But you can't ask me to rat on …"

I almost said my boss, meaning Daryl. Honestly, Daryl has been piquing my suspicion lately, acting strange. Sweating too much. Eyes flitting here and there. And then there was that business just now with him not wanting me to check on Lucky Charm's supplements. And that cabinet he installed and always keeps locked. With the electronic lock that only he can access.

"Tell me," he growls.

I hold my hand up. "Excuse me, Luca, but this is entirely inappropriate."

He takes a step closer. My body betrays me. My nipples are erect and too sensitive. He looks hungry. Starving. For me?

"Now you're making me suspicious."

"You've said some very inappropriate things and⁠—"

"Are we going to pretend I can't read you?" he says huskily.

He loops his hands around my body.

My hands instinctively move to push back against his chest. I know I should. But I pause there, palms flat against him, and I make a choice. A clear-eyed, determined choice. I am not a woman things happen to. I am a woman who decides. And right now, I decide to stay exactly where I am and discover what comes next. His hands slide down, greedy and certain, and grab a fistful of my ass like he's wanted to do since the moment he saw me. He pulls me in close against his hard body.

I could stop this. I know I could. A slap. A push. A scream, hell, even a kick. The thought arrives clearly, calmly, and then it floats away, because … I don't want to.

I sigh, surrender, melt, and just drink this man in like a tonic.

"You're so beautiful, Ellie. Beautiful, strong and passionate, feisty and stubborn."

Let me go, I try to say. But the words won't come out. Maybe because they wouldn't be honest. Maybe I don't want them to be.

The mobster crushes his lips against mine. Groaning as he palms my ass and pushes his groin against my belly. I feel the thick ridge of his rock-hard cock against me. Huge and ready. My lips sear, and my clit throbs, yelling at me to let him. To give myself to him.

And I want to. God help me, I actually want to.

But wanting to and wanting to now are not the same. And, I know the difference.

Before I become too lust-drunk to think straight, I push him. Perhaps too hard.

He takes a step back immediately. He moves the moment I ask him to. No resistance. No hesitation. I notice that.

"You taste fucking perfect."

"Let me pass, please." My two palms flat against the contours of his muscular chest.

He moves aside without a word. Watching me. Figuring me.

"We're going to talk again," he says, his red-tinged eyes never leaving me. "Don't leave town."