Page 85 of Revenge on the Mafia

“Sì.” She nodded.

Satisfaction danced to the beat of my heart. Until the one thing she’d not said tainted the air in my lungs. She didn’t need a knife when she had words.

For one month.

Twenty days left.

Four hundred and sixty hours.

After that, I’d be gone. She’d be someone else’s.

Pain worked in my chest. Even though I knew I’d bruise the smoothness of velvet, my nails bit into her skin. My hips bucked. A manic need overtook me. I wanted it all. I wanted her soul. Her dreams. Her nightmares. Her everything.

She arched under me. Clenched around me and convulsed on my cock with a scream of desperation. Words burst in Spanish. I tried to listen. To understand. To lock it into my memory. But her grip on my cock forced me to my own release. I came as violently as I wanted her to be mine. Her fingers dug into my skin, just as hard as mine did. She was as desperate for me as I was for her. But she wanted her release and answers to her questions. I just wanted her.

I was an idiot for going through it. The pressure in my chest built up. I pulled out of her while she was still heaving. Zipped up my still hard cock and staggered to the bathroom.

Four hundred and sixty hours.

My hands shook when I turned on the tap. I should have said six months, not one month. I wasn’t scared of dying. But every fucking second that passed was one less with her. I wasn’t myself. I couldn’t calm my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried. After some time, I gave up on it entirely and dragged myself out. She’d curled into herself. Eyes closed. Breathing gone soft. Sleeping on my fucking bed.

Four hundred and fifty-nine hours.

I should go back to my office.

I didn’t want to miss any of it anymore. What harm could it do to have one night with her?

More harm than I could handle for sure. I should go. She made a soft sound in her sleep. I stepped closer. Another sigh. Against my better judgment, I found myself getting into bed and lying down beside her. Just one night with her. A lifetime of memories to take with me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ANNA

Iwoke up to a haze of confusion and a distinct heat brushing the side of my body. What on earth am I lying on?

My breath stalled as the heat moved. Up and down. Hard muscles cloaked in soft cotton.

I was naked. Wrapped around him while he was fully dressed. The side of my cheek on his chest heated with shame. His palm on my ass burned like hot coal. Memories from the night before did nothing to cool them.

He was a master of his game. He’d ensnared me in a strange bubble where only he and I seemed to exist. Fear, confusion, and agony ripped me apart in three ways. Somewhere in the middle, I was stretched beyond my limit. I was one tick away from shattering into pieces.

Was that the reason he’d offered that loco deal? He’d known my resistance would wear off? My stomach twisted into tight little knots. I had to create distance between us. But my hand curled over his shirt. Popped two buttons and sought the star behind it.

His breathing was calm. Soft. He was still sleeping. I popped another button but didn’t get to the fourth before his hand captured mine. Pressed it down to his chest.

What was he hiding? Hesitantly, I lifted my face, but his eyes remained closed. I stared at him, trying to figure out what was going on behind what he was showing me. Sitting up, I straddled him. His hand followed my ass as if it were metal to my magnet. I wiggled, trying to get my hand released. His grip might as well have been a handcuff.

I stilled and settled my gaze on him. Why did it feel like he saw right through me, even with his eyes closed?

“Are you scarred?”

It was like talking to a concrete wall.

“Burned?”

He wasn’t fooling me. I knew he was awake. The growing erection below me was proof enough of it.

“How about weapons?” His eyes flickered open. So lazily that it flushed my skin with heat.