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He offers it to me, and I know it should annoy me that he took it upon himself to take the first drag, but I find that I don’t care. In fact, I quite like the indirect contact of our lips as I go to inhale. Menthol flavors explode in my mouth as my lungs fill with smoke; I breathe out slowly, trying to look casual.
Elia cocks his head, studying me. His gray eyes are dark and impossibly deep, enticing but guarded. Clouds gorged with rainwater, just before they burst. “Those things kill people, you know.”
I repeat the inhale and exhale, leaning against the rosy wallpaper. Aunt Carly really did a number on this suburban hell hole. “I hear you kill people, too. What do you think will get me first?”
He takes a step forward, toward me, even though we’re already plastered against the wall. A small, devilish grin splits his perfect, chiseled face, and he runs a hand through his dark locks. They fall forward, disturbed by the movement, just long enough to sweep over his forehead.
I slip my hand behind my back to keep from pushing them out of his face.
“So, you know who I am, then.”
“I don’t live under a rock, and I’m not a tourist. Of course, I know who the self-imposed king of King’s Trace is.”
And it’s true. Everyone in town knows the Montaltos run this place, knows that they funnel in more revenue with their drug racket than the rest of the town pulls in combined—that the thirty-year-oldcapois one of the most dangerous men in the state.
“Hmm.” Taking another step, until his body is just a breath away from mine, he reaches for my cigarette, plucking it from between my teeth. He places it in his mouth again, stealing another puff, and irritation simmers in my gut. It’s the last one I have, and he’s ruining my relief.
His mouth falls open, smoke billowing out in wisps, brushing against my face. I close my eyes as he props his hand on the wall above my shoulder, leaning in. “I heard the king is looking for a queen.”
My eyes pop open, taking him in carefully. “How exciting for him.”
Shrugging, he drops his hand and grazes my bottom lip with his thumb, propping it open to push the cigarette inside. He holds it there while I inhale, sucking deeper than before like I have something to prove. His eyes watch my mouth work, blazing with a heat I’m not used to; it makes my thighs clench in anticipation.
“I suppose there are worse fates.”
I snort, releasing the cigarette. “You equate marriage to fate? Women must be lining up at your door for your hand.”
“Women have been lining up on my doorstep since word got around about my massive cock.” He says this so casually as if it’s supposed to impress me. It does, but I don’t let him know that. “Besides, what’s wrong with my analogy? Not all fates are bad. Most aren’t even consequential.”
“Fate, by design, is catastrophic. Nothing good can come from having your choices taken away.”
“Interesting. So, you’re a fan of choice.”
My eyebrows pull together. “What person isn’t?”
“You may be surprised,mio amore. Many of us decide against choice because of duty. Loyalty.”
I ignore the fact that he just called me his love in Italian. Tilting my chin up, I meet his gaze head-on. “Who are you loyal to?” My voice is throaty, desperate from having this sinfully good-looking man so close.
“My family.” Dipping his head, he presses his forehead into mine. From the corner of my eye, I see him dig the lit end of my cigarette into the wall. A dark burn appears, tearing at the paper, but I can’t bring myself to care. He drops the butt and brings his hand to my lips, tracing them with the tip of his index finger. “Myself, when it comes up.”
I swallow over the hard knot that’s formed in my throat, trying to remember to breathe. “That’s a good person to be loyal to.”
He chuckles, bending to glide his nose down the slope of my neck, brushing hair off my shoulder as he descends. His lips trail over my shoulder and back up across my collarbone. Pausing, he traces the tip of his tongue over the dip in the middle. One hand comes up to grip my waist, and he moves, fitting his pelvis against my stomach.
I can feelallof him.
Fuck me.This is probably the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, and it’s happening with one of the most dangerous men on the freaking planet.
Why does that make it immensely hotter?
“You do have a choice, you know.” His free hand pinches my chin, forcing me to look down at him while he slips his tongue beneath the neckline of my dress, between my breasts. My nipples stiffen immediately, brushing against the soft material, the friction driving my blood south. “About who you marry.”
I sigh softly, tentatively bringing my hand up to run my fingers through his hair.Of course, he knows about that.
Unlike his hands, his hair is unnaturally soft, begging to be tugged. My fingers flex in his roots, and he grunts once, biting my nipple through my dress like he’s struggling to maintain control.
My pussy aches, apparently in favor of him letting go. “You don’t know my father.”
