Page 58 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

"Stop that."

I look up. He's standing across the counter, water glass in hand, watching me with an expression I can't read.

"Stop what?"

"Making yourself smaller." He sets the glass down and moves around the counter. He stands behind me close enough that his body heat presses against my back through the sweater. "You do it when you're uncertain. You fold in. Contract as if you take up less space you won’t be bothering anyone."

“It’s a habit I haven’t broken since dating your son. He didn’t like it when I took up too much space.”

“That is not something I taught him.”

I tilt my head to the side. “I didn’t think you did.” I cup the side of his face and take comfort from the warmth. “What he is doing is not on you. You know that, right?”

Guilt consumes his eyes. It’s there swimming in the pools of blue and then it’s gone in a blink.

His hands find my elbows. Gently, he pushes them outward, forcing my shoulders to expand, my chest to open. The sweater shifts against my breasts with the movement and the cool air of the compound hits newly exposed skin.

"Never make yourself small for anyone ever again," he says against my hair, his breath warm on the crown of my head. "Never feel shy about the space you take up. Own it and fuck everyone else."

The command in his voice straightens my spine before my brain gives permission. My shoulders roll back. My chin lifts. The contraction I didn't know I was performing releases, and the difference is immediate. More space in my lungs. More air to breathe.

His hands stay on my elbows for a beat longer than necessary. Then they slide down my arms, tracing the skin to my wrists, and the touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His thumbs brush the insides of my wrists where my pulse hammers fast enough for him to count.

"Better," he murmurs.

He doesn't move away.

I don't want him to.

"The kiss," I say. "Earlier. Do you really think it was a mistake?"

His hands find my hips. The sweater is so thin that every finger presses through, every callus, the cold ring of silver against my hip bone. He turns me around to face him and my back presses against the edge of the counter. The marble is cool through the fabric and his body is a wall of heat in front of me.

"It was a mistake because now that I’ve had another taste, I’m more likely to do it again. And again."

The longer he speaks the closer his lips get to mine. "And what is so terrible about that?"

The question hangs between us. His jaw tightens. His eyes drop to my mouth, then lower, to the shoulder the sweater has slipped from, to the bare skin beneath the knit fabric, to the hem that barely covers my thighs where the black lace peeks out.

"You don't know what you're asking."

"I know exactly what I'm asking." I reach up and touch his jaw. The stubble is rough against my palm and the muscle beneath it ticks under my fingers. "You told me you love me last night. You held me while I slept. You called me your sunshine this morning. You showed me just how much you crave me." I hold his gaze and let him see every ounce of what I'm asking for. "I want the rest, Rowan. All of it. Stop protecting me from the one thing I'm not afraid of."

He kisses me again. Harder this time. His hands grip my hips and lift me onto the counter and my legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. The position puts us eye to eye, mouth to mouth, and the sweater rides up to my waist. The black lace of the panties that were supposed to break his control presses against the front of his slacks and the hard length beneath them.

The panties are doing their job.

He groans into my mouth. The sound vibrates through me, low and raw and desperate, and I swallow it. Take it in. Keep it.

"The things I want to do to you," he says against my lips.

"Show me."

He pulls back. Looks at me with those ice-blue eyes gone dark with want. Then he drops to his knees.

His hands slide up my thighs, pushing the sweater higher, exposing the black lace he picked out himself. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls the panties down my legs in one smooth motion. They fall to the marble floor in a whisper of silk and his eyes stay locked on mine the entire time.

"Rowan."