Page 438 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

“And it really all started when you ran in front of my car at the airport.” His lips curl into a mischievous grin.

“Hey, wait, I didn’t run in front of your car!” I screech, throwing my hands in the air. “You were driving like a lunatic and I was minding my own business, just crossing?—”

He doesn’t let me finish, though. All of a sudden, his strong hands grip my waist and gently pull me toward him. His mouth smothers mine, silencing my voice and devouring me voraciously for all to see. His tongue juts between my lips, coiling heat radiating throughout my core. I press my fingertips into his back, letting him infuse my entire being with pure, wanton lust.

He wraps me tight in his embrace and my body molds against his, fitting perfectly into my spot.

My spot…

I never thought I’d ever use those words in relation to a guy.

When he pulls away, we’re both breathless. “What I was trying to say is that maybe I want to stick around.”

“I don’t want to be the reason why you stay,” I murmur. “I don’t want you to resent me if it doesn’t work out. Besides, it would get weird, you know all of us living with your brother and sister-in-law. Kind of crowded, don’t you think? And that whole sex against the window thing couldn’t be a regular occurrence because, you know,” I shrug. “It’d be like we were living with parents. I mean, they are parents. Not ours, but still.” I give my head a quick shake to keep from rambling anymore. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. Maybe that’s just the bottom line,” I finally rasp.

Dante grins. “Okay, breathe, Anya. Jesus, I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once, do you know that?”

I laugh and clap a hand over my mouth. “That’s probably why I try to limit my words. When they get away from me, they just keep coming, like a sea of bullets.”

Yikes. Bullets. How incredibly apropos.

“Lemme just address one of your concerns, okay? I don’t live with Heaven and Matteo. I know you have this whole useless but pretty trust fund baby perception of me, but it’s not true. I’ve got my own place. I’m not a freeloader.” He smirks. “I mean, I don’t pay for it, but I’ve got my own space. With plenty of windows,” he says with a wink.

“Mm-hm,” I say. “All of that sounds really good. The only thing I don’t remember saying is ‘useless but pretty.’ I think that’s just you projecting.”

He smacks my ass and then squeezes it, making me squeal.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He draws me near, his lips brushing against my ear. “Why don’t I take you to my place and show you how usefulI actually am? And then I’m going to make you scream so hard, you’ll never say shit like that again.”

“Or maybe I’ll like it so much, I’ll keep saying it.” I waggle my eyebrows. “Now, are you going to take me to your place, or are you going to fuck me against this street post?” I shrug. “ItisVegas, after all.”

“Tempting, but no.” He grins at me. “The things I’m gonna do to you have to be behind closed doors or I’ll get arrested. And that whole pretty thing will be very bad for me in the clink.” With a chuckle, he nods toward the hotel. “Race ya back?”

“A competition. Nice.” I wiggle my fingers in a little wave and take off like a shot. He’s on my heels but challenge accepted. No way do I lose.

Of course, by the time I get to the hotel entrance, I can’t breathe, my face is purple, and my eyes are bugging out of my head.

But hey, I won.

We catch our breath for a minute, the unspoken promise of what awaits us upstairs hanging in the stagnant air between us. Finally, when I don’t feel completely wilted, Dante laces his fingers with mine and pulls me into the revolving glass door next to him. I can’t stop staring up at him and smiling. I want to pull my eyes away, I want to feel as if I have some sliver of self-control left, but there’s nothing.

I am hopelessly consumed in all that is him.

He’s staying…because of me.

Shut the front fucking door.

I never expected to hear those words, even though deep down I yearned to hear them tumble from his bitable lips.

“Anya!”

That definitely jars me. I turn around to see who could possibly be calling my?—

And then it hits me.

Dottie andThe Golden Girlssaid they were staying at the Excelsior.

A smile tugs at my lips. How happy they look in their brightly colored, button-down shirts and white pants…what is it with older women and their white pants? It’s like a uniform! And how do they keep them so freaking clean?

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