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She huffs, "Relax, there’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing some painkillers won’t fix."
"You need to drink some water, rehydrate." I grab her arm and pull her along with me to the sink, then snatch a glass and hold it under the tap before I shove it under her nose. "Drink."
"Fine, stop worrying!" She takes a mouthful of water, gargles and spits it out once, twice, before tipping the glass back and drinking from it. She drains the glass and sets it down with a snap on the counter. "There, happy?"
I’ll be happy when I have you under me, in my bed, writhing around my cock.
I glare at her and she bites down on her lower lip. Of course, I feel the tug all the way to the crown of my dick. Un-fucking-believable. I’m supposed to marry her sister, and here I am, getting turned on by her. And it’s not like we’ve kissed or I’ve held her inappropriately… Recently.
Her chest rises and falls. The air between us thrums with that chemistry that’s so overpowering when the two of us are together.
Hell, even when we’re not. I haven’t stopped thinking of how it feels to mold her body to mine, to hold her hips against mine, to squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples, and tweak so hard, she curves her back and cries out, and when I reach between her legs, she’s soaking wet, her cum trickling down her inner thigh. She’s ready and waiting, the pink lips of her pussy swollen from the need to have my shaft buried balls deep inside her. The crown of my cock stabbing into that secret place of hers which drives her crazy. I tilt my hips and drive into her over and over again. With her, the hunger that gripped me is like nothing I’ve experienced before. The scent of her hair, the taste of her skin, the feel of her breath on my lips as I kiss her and plunge my tongue inside her honeyed mouth and drink from her, even as I empty my load inside her.
She blinks, then takes a step forward, “Massimo, I—”
"Don’t." I hold up my hand. "Whatever it is, don’t say it.”
"Right." She glances away. "You’re right. I shouldn't be talking to you like that. It’s not appropriate.” She squeezes her eyes shut. "Look, I didn’t mean to barge in like that and turn your engagement upside down."
"You didn’t," I say through gritted teeth. "Things will proceed as planned."
She snaps her eyes open and turns to me. "You’re still going to marry her, despite what happened between us?"
19
Olivia
"Nothing happened. We had a casual fling, we parted. End of story." He pulls himself up to his full height. "It happened. I moved on. Just like you did."
I gasp. It’s like someone took a hot knife and stabbed it into my chest. I can’t blame him, though. I’m the one who told him I was in love with someone else. And I was right in doing so.He’s the Mafia, remember? And you swore not to have anything to do with the likes of him.Not to mention, I was disfigured by the accident. One bullet and my entire life fell apart. I went from being the leading lady of a musical headed for the West End, to someone who had to start all over again. Story of my life. I always seem to take two steps forward and one step back, to end up where I started. I need time to figure out what I’m going to do next.
"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way." He reaches for me, and I evade his grasp.
"It’s fine. We both moved on. I just didn’t expect to see you engaged to my sister. Do you even love her?"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Why did I ask that? Do I even want to know the answer? And why my sister? Of all the people in the world, why her?"Do you?" I turn to him.
"It’s an arranged marriage, decided by the heads of theCamorraand theCosa Nostra," he murmurs.
"And you went along with it?"
He tilts his head.
"Bullshit. You’re not the type to fall in line with someone else’s plan."
"You’re right." He rakes those piercing gray eyes of his across my features. "I wouldn’t normally agree to have my destiny decided by someone else, unless it were Nonna."
"Your grandmother? What does she have to do with it?"
"She wanted all of us brothers to be married within a month of her death. Also, it was her dying wish to settle the feud between theCamorraand theCosa Nostra.”
"So, you offered yourself up as a candidate?"
"Little did I know, when I proposed to you, I was potentially fulfilling both of her wishes." He takes a step forward into my space, forcing me to tilt my head further back.
Good God, I’d forgotten how big he is, how imposing. How his shoulders block out everything else. How the heat radiates off of his big body and slams down on my chest and pins me in place. How that earthy, musky scent of his, mixed with the spicy notes of his cologne, goes to my head when I draw in a breath in his presence. I press myself into the counter of the sink behind me, not that it helps. He’s not touching me, but he may as well be, the way he drags his gaze down my body, alighting upon every nook and cranny and curve and dip, like he’s remembering how he touched me with those rough fingers of his.
"What are you doing?" I gasp.
"Nothing. Yet." He shakes his head. "You go to my head, you know that? I only have to see you to forget about my responsibilities... Who I am. What I want out of life. You make me want to throw you down and rut into you until you’re screaming my name over and over again."
