Page 54 of Mafia King's Forbidden Obsession

Ezra’s voice drops lower, his eyes darkening with what I assume to be old memories. “I couldn’t protect them.”

“And this man?” I reach down for the picture of the clean-shaven man who piqued my curiosity earlier.

I see anger settle in his eyes when he looks at the picture. I don’t expect him to answer.

“He was my best friend. He was behind it all…” he trails off, his palm fisting.

“Where is he now?” I wonder, reaching out to stroke his arm.

“Dead!” His tone is clipped.

The air is filled with his heavy, frigid words. In that instant, he appears more like a defeated individual who has lost it all rather than a crime syndicate leader.

My heart tugs. I don’t bother to ask how they died as I move closer to him, feeling my heart constrict with each step.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, one of my hands moving in slow, soft strokes across his back and the other wrapped tightly around his torso. At first, he tenses, but then I sense his body soften in my embrace.

I place my cheek on his chest, listening to the harsh, unsteady pace of his heartbeat. His body feels warm with sorrow, and I feel it in every pore of my skin.

When he tightens his grip around me, tears sting my eyes. This is him, Ezra Marino, a simple man like every other.

“You know, I lost my dad, too, not in the same way,” I start, and when he doesn’t say anything, I continue. “He disappeared frommy life. Ran away…vanished…whatever you want to call it. He hasn’t reached out to me, and I have no clue as to where he is.”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes thickly.

“Sometimes I try to…move on with life and just forget about him, but I can’t. I still miss him every day. I just wish…I could see him again.”

I finally pull away, and our eyes meet; the air between us feels thick. And just as I think about it, his lips are on mine, soft. His tongue tangles with mine in the same soft embrace, and as my grip tightens on his side, it quickly grows hungry and desperate.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” he murmurs against my lips, his voice low and hoarse.

“I think I have an idea,” I whisper back, my hands sliding up to his neck as he pulls me closer. “Because you’re doing the same thing to me.”

He tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling softly as I release a gentle moan. I get lost in the warmth of his kiss. He lifts me onto the cold mahogany desk, pushing my legs apart as he positions himself between them.

His hands slip under my striped blue gown, tugging at my panties. I shift, wiggling my ass so he successfully gets them off me. Just then, a thought sneaks into my head, and I pull away fast, breaking the kiss.

“What if someone walks in?” I ask, barely above a whisper, as I glance at the door. He didn’t lock it earlier when we walked in.

“Won’t happen,” he dismisses my words.

He leans forward to kiss me again, but I move my head back, avoiding it.

The air is different this time. It’s not like before—when we were in the stitch room, bodies tangled under the thickness of lust. Back then, the thought of someone walking in had barely brushed the edge of my mind. But now, when the lust is replaced by something else–desire– I’m wary.

“Still—”

His eyes darken. “Move away from me again…” he warns, his voice low and dangerous, “…and I might just fuck you in the hallway instead. Is that what you want?”

I gasp, my eyes widening at the image in my head. A shiver pricks my spine, and I quickly shake my head. He smirks, obviously pleased with my reaction.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Now, get off the desk.”

I swallow hard, glancing at the bulge in his pants before doing as he says. My hands tremble slightly as I slide off the desk.

He steps closer, reaching behind me to pull down the zipper of my gown, the slow, deliberate movement sending a thrill of anticipation through me.

“Take it off,” he orders, his voice thick with desire.

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