Page 52 of Her Mafia Bodyguard


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“I need one, for sure.”

“Do you always work out so hard? It’s like you’re punishing yourself. I mean, I work out too, but…”

If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she could read my mind. Like she somehow knows why I pushed myself, why I’ve been pushing myself over the past two weeks we’ve been fucking like deranged rabbits. The boss has that tendency, too, of reaching into my head and pulling my thoughts out. Either that or I’ve been unable to deal with guilt for much longer than I knew.

“It’s all that good food you’ve been shoving down my throat. I need to work it off.” I pat my stomach, shrugging. “Don’t like the sight of me all covered in sweat? Don’t feed me so well.”

“I like the sight of you all covered in sweat,” she assures me with that impish little grin I’ve come to recognize as the precursor to something more. “It’s just that I like being the reason you’re all sweaty.”

“Is that an invitation?” I take a step her way, then another.

“Oh, gross! Wash off your stink, at least!” She squeals an instant before sliding past me, running down the hall and into the living room, laughing the entire way. The sight of her ass jiggling is more than enough to strengthen my determination to get my hands on her. And my cock in her.

“Run all you want.” I face her from the other end of the island, ducking right and left in time with her movements. “You can’t get away. Not in your underwear.”

“I can get back to my room and put on a shirt before you catch me.”

“You sure about that?” I raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Try it.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Feinting right, then left, she finally breaks right and runs through the kitchen, reaching the hall a split second before I do. I try to make a grab for her, but she’s too quick, flying barefoot down the hall and throwing herself into her room. She screams when I throw my weight against the door before she can get it shut.

“Get over here.” I take her by the waist and pull her in close, making sure to rub my sweaty clothes on her. “Now you’ll stink, too. Maybe we both need a shower.”

“You’re disgusting!” But she hasn’t stopped giggling since I took hold of her, either. So I have to wonder how much she minds. I can’t help but grope her a little now that my hands are on her. She’s like a drug I’ll never get my fill of.

Abruptly, her giggling stops. I realize it’s because her phone’s ringing, sitting on her desk. Her head swings in that direction because, of course, who can ignore a ringing phone?

“Oh, no.” She breaks free of me and goes to it, blocking it from view.

“What’s wrong? Who is it?”

She turns to me, eyes wide, the color gone from her face. “My dad.”

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