Page 27 of Possessive Mafia Vows

I smile. “I remember.”

“I never forgot it. I dreamed about it at night. You were there, with your hair in a quiff, and I always felt like I was the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You are.”

She shakes her head and stares at the ceiling.

I tweak her nipple. “Hey. You promised you wouldn’t go back there.”

“My scars?—”

“Your scars are part of you.” I lean on one elbow and press butterfly kisses to the scars across her chest. “Even if the skin healed perfectly, they would still be part of you.”

She faces me again and kisses me lightly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Oh no. Don’t you dare thank me. Thanking me means that you don’t believe me, and I’m not letting you go until I know that you do.”

She chuckles. “I should go.”

I lean over her, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.”

I wrinkle my nose. With her naked breasts pressing against my chest, my cock is already springing back to life. “I’m not convinced.”

She sucks on her bottom lip. “You want me to convince you?”

“Aye. I’m not sure how though.”

“I think I might know a way.”

Pushing me off her, she sits up and strokes my erection. “Prepare to be convinced,” she says before she goes down on me, her tongue pushing into the slit and her teeth nibbling the head.

It’s one of those days that doesn’t fully wake up before night crawls back in again.

It’s almost evening before we pull our clothes on and stand in front of the window with our hands wrapped around mugs of steaming black coffee. Our distorted reflections peer back at us.

I don’t want to let her go, but I know that I have no choice. No pressure. That’s what I promised her and myself.

I still need to warn her about Nick, but that will be the quickest way to kill the moment and today has been too special to deflate it like a popped balloon before it’s even over.

I remember that she didn’t eat lunch with her father.

“We could get dinner,” I suggest. “Anywhere you like. Room service if you’re not ready to face the world yet.”

She smiles, but I sense her pulling away from me. “I think I should just go home.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“No, Kyle, I can walk.”

I tug a lock of glossy red hair over her shoulder and wind it around my thumb. “Humor me, Sienna. What kind of man would I be if I made you walk home when there’s a car sitting in my parking lot doing nothing?”

“You’re not making me walk home. I enjoy it.”

“Now I know you’re lying.”

“Kyle, I don’t need a chaperone or a bodyguard or whatever. I’m a big girl now. I can?—”

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