Page 11 of Possessive Mafia Vows

While he was away, I got my life back onto an even plane. No ups, no downs, no distractions. Just me and my work. Kyle has been back for a week, and here I am all over the place like I’m trying to walk across a frozen pond.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I don’t even have to ask. When he’s this close to me, I’m transported back to that dark alleyway, every nerve-ending in my body screaming to be fucked.

“Well?” Kyle asks. “It’s your call, Sienna. Tell me you don’t want me.”

“I…”

Kyle’s lips are almost touching mine. I can feel his breath on my face, see the bottle-green flecks in his eyes, smell his cologne.

It would be so easy. Tell him to turn around and walk away. It would all be over.

But I already feel the emptiness of losing him like Goldie Hawn’s character inDeath Becomes Herwith a hole straight through her middle.

“I can’t…”

He cups my face with both hands. His tongue is in my mouth, and I can’t even believe the sounds that are coming from me. My body has made the decision for me, and now there’s no turning back.

Kyle picks me up and carries me to my desk. The pot of pens rolls onto the floor and lands with a crash. I push Kyle’s damp jacket over his shoulders and fumble with the buttons of his shirt, our lips attached, tongues chasing each other around my mouth.

Everything else is forgotten.

Kyle raises my arms in the air and pulls my chunky sweater over my head. I gasp. The overhead light in the office is stark, designed for computer work.

“Kyle, no,” I breathe against his neck.

“No?” He pulls away, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Let’s go to the studio.” The studio is in darkness. He won’t see my scars.

Too late. He’s already spotted them.

I try to get down from the desk, and he helps, offering me his hand. I’ve not felt this exposed or this vulnerable, well, ever. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.”

But he pulls me towards him, his free hand entwined in my hair. “Trust me, Sienna. Please.”

I don’t speak.

He holds my gaze long enough to know that I’m not going to bolt, and then he traces the scars across my neck and chest with his fingertip. “Don’t be ashamed of your body, Sienna. These marks are part of you. They are what makes you so special.”

He dips his head and kisses the scar that starts between my cleavage. He traces the puckered skin with tiny fragile kisses, across my chest, around my collarbone, and up to where my jawline meets my left ear.

“Mo leoin, you are so beautiful.”

His kisses travel to my mouth and keep going. No part of my face is left untouched. He sucks on my earlobe. My neck. My hairline.

My entire body is tingling, and I realize that my arms are no longer crossed over my chest, and my bra is on the floor.

Kyle unzips my pants and tugs them down over my hips while his lips continue to trace damp patterns from my belly button to my abdomen. He slides my panties down, and I step out of them. No one has seen me naked since the accident, and I’d kind of accepted that it was how it would always be.

I feel his tongue between my legs and instinctively reach behind me for the edge of the desk to keep me upright.

“You’re beautiful, Sienna.” He peers up at me from between my legs, his eyes greener than ever, while his thumb strokes the livid scar on my inner thigh. “You believe me, don’t you?”

I nod. My pussy is dripping, and his tongue has barely touched me. God, I never realized how badly I wanted this. How badly I wanthim.

“Say it.” He spreads my legs while still holding my gaze. “I’m beautiful. Say it.”

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