Page 149 of Damián

“It means a lot… just less polite.” I let out a sigh, running a hand over my face. “I don’t like this.”

“And you think I do? You know I’ve been running from this since I was thirteen… I just finally ran out of places to hide.”

I let out a breath and slump on the couch. I spread my legs slightly and stretch both arms out to rest along the back of the leather cushions. “Fine. Then I’ll join you.”

“You’ll join me where?”

“I’ll join the organization. I’ll be your right hand.”

“Absolutely not.” Oliver rounds the desk, walking straight toward me. “I’m not kidding, Damián. I won’t let you get into this.”

“I am already in this.”

“I forbid you.”

I grin, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him forward. Before he can protest, I pull him down to straddle my thighs.

“Ouch…” I wince as his weight presses against my bruised ribs.

Oliver immediately lifts my shirt and gasps. “What the hell happened to you?!”

“I jumped out of a moving fuel truck and blew up a plane. And oh, yeah… you’re three hundred kilos short on crystal.”

“You what?!” He glares at me angrily and tries to scramble off my lap. “Am I hurting you right now?”

“Don’t you dare move,” I warn, pressing him against my body. “I’m fine, mi cielo. Tae already cleared me.”

“See… this is exactly why I don’t want you in on this.”

“And this is exactly why I’m doing it. I am officially your right-hand man.”

He leans in closer. “I am the boss, and I said no.”

“What are you going to do to stop me?” I whisper, looking up into those beautiful hazel eyes. “Shoot me?”

Oliver tries to fight it, but the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile.

“I can always ask Silvio to do it.”

“Uff… mi cielo sending his henchmen to do his dirty work?” I slide my hands down to grip his ass, pulling his hips against mine as I lean in to kiss the curve of his neck. “That’s so hot.”

“Damián…” Oliver tries to resist, since it’s clear he isn’t done arguing about my safety, but I slide my hands over his ass and squeeze… hard.

A breathless moan escapes his lips, and his body relaxes.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, placing small kisses all over his neck.

“Don’t change the subject,” he breathes, but his fingers automatically curl and cling to my shoulders.

“Sorry, boss, the subject is closed.” I press my hands into his lower back, forcing his hips down as I thrust my own hips up. Our bodies grind together, slowly, and Oliver moans again, his head falling back.

“Is your body sore?” I ask, pulling the neck of his shirt so I can trail my lips from the curve of his neck to his shoulder.

Oliver doesn’t answer.

“My man is so stubborn.” I flick my tongue over the tense muscle connecting his neck and shoulder, then bite down gently.

Oliver gasps, his grip on my shoulders tightening painfully.