Page 22 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

I watch her, and she stares back, trying to control those physiological reactions that give her away.

I’m betting Daddy has no idea where his princess is. Everyone has cards up their sleeves, and I’m aware her father handing her to me to save Conor and to build his reputation is something he’s shaped into a win for himself. Let him think that. I want him to. This girl, pretty as she is, means nothing.

Declan’s powerful, though there are more powerful players. But what he is, is the most important player. Someone whose powerhouse holds up others through complicated gives and takes, and he’s too arrogant to see that it could be taken away.

He thinks by aligning with me he’ll get a piece of my pie, but I’m getting all of his and more. I’m staking my claim, something the criminal underworld has waited for me to do. But I haven’t. Until now.

I’m not saving anyone. I’m taking New York, and this girl with the wild red hair and fuck-me eyes is the key.

She breathes out, her pulse throbbing a little harder, and she finally says it. So soft it might not even be a sound. But through all the noise and moans and laughter and music, I hear it.

“Yes.”

I didn’t need to ask. It’s my club, but hey, I’ll play by the rules I’ve set: no touching without permission. And she just gave it to me. Breaking rules is usually more fun, but in this instance, the power play is better for it.

Heaven tries to resist giving in to those base urges. She can’t. And she’s given herself to me with that one word. It’s trust.

Fuck trust. I want to break her. And I will. Slowly I trace a line along her collarbone, then down over her shoulder and along her arm, to her inner wrist, where I come to a stop on her pulse.

It’s leaping and dancing, and her lips are blood-red, not just from lipstick. Her pupil dilation shows me the exact level of her arousal.

We’re surrounded by people, and she’s looking at me like we’re alone. Naked.

“Your skin is like warm silk. Your pulse is a dance all of its own, and if I press…” I do that with my thumb, my fingers resting on the back of her wrist. “The tempo becomes an impatient, seductive tango.”

Her lips part as she sways in toward me a little, and I don’t bother to hide my smile as I lift her wrist to my nose and mouth.

“I—”

“No perfume, just you. Intoxicating in the sweetness of your skin.” I move my thumb and lick the spot and she gasps, her fingers curling into me. “I bet you taste this good everywhere. Like honey with a hint of spice.”

“H-have you worked here long?”

I close my mouth on her wrist, sucking her pulse, biting softly with just the right amount of edge to make her moan, then I look at her. “I’ve been here since it opened, but I don’t consider this work.”

She pulls her wrist free, rubbing the spot with her fingers as she contemplates me and my words, trying to figure out the hidden meaning. She’s smarter than Declan, I can see that, and if I let her breathe, she’d probably understand what I just told her. But I’m not about to let her breathe. I like her mussed and high on lust. The yearning is hot, and I intend to sample my future bride here in the club.

I like to fuck, and a small taste of Heaven might be fun.

Made all the sweeter because she doesn’t get what’s happening yet.

“Are you up for adventure?”

It’s a blatant dare, and her gaze flares fiery green. “Yes.”

I smile. “This way.”

She’s hoping to dig up information to use or understand or…I don’t know and I don’t care. Declan’s of the type—like my father before he handed me the reins—to lean toward old-fashioned views, maybe mistake femininity for weakness. I’m betting she doesn’t know a thing.

Yet.

I slide my hand to her lower back, fingers just on the swell of her ass, as I guide her toward my private play room.

It’s the one that doesn’t have cameras.

I punch in the keycode, open the door, and gesture inside. She enters with no more than a second’s hesitation. Bold. I like that.

Heaven looks around the black, low-lit room. There’s a chair, a sofa wide enough that it could be a bed, a rack with toys, and of course, the wall with the hooks.

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