Page 21 of Mafia Boss' Surprise Baby

“Irish, of course,” I tell her and she barely manages a half smile for me.

I get the first aid kit and clean the cut on her forehead. She shuts her eyes, holds still as I clean her up and bandage it. I’m aware of her paleness, the blue veins on her eyelids, the almost translucent skin and the tremble of her lips. I feel pent-up, like I want to roar and break things, destroy the fool who threw a rock and caused her any pain. Instead of raging, I put the first aid stuff aside and take her hand.

“Your hands are cold,” I complain. She shifts a little beside me on the couch.

“I’m freezing,” she admits, “It’s not even that cold outside.”

“It’s the shock and the stress,” I tell her.

“I thought he had a gun. I thought he shot at us at first,” she says in a low whisper.

I can’t help it then. I stroke her hair, kiss the top of her head. She moves into my arms and nestles against me, feeling small and cold and shaky. I kiss her forehead, rub her back, trying to get warmth back into her, to cherish and protect her. That’s the word, cherish. It keeps coming up and I’m not the most comfortable with it, but here we are.

“I’m so cold, Mick,” she says, her wide eyes still frightened, her gaze locking with mine. “Make me warm.”

I don’t need her to ask me twice.

12

KATE

Iknow what I’m doing when I ask. The chill, the aftermath of our run-in in the parking lot outside. Now I’m closeted in the crow’s nest, a dim, warm room like an emerald green and gold jewel box at the top of the casino with a big window looking out on all the action, disguised from the other side as a mirror.

Mick has already reached for me, holding me against his broad chest. I’m safe in the circle of his arms, and he kisses the top of my head, fond as any friend. But there’s more to it. I feel the unmistakable difference in the way he looks at me and touches me. I wonder if he’s going to take his time. Or if all the pent-up tension between us will explode in one swift, fierce coupling. It doesn’t seem like it would be anywhere near enough.

“I always thought it would be different,” I confess.

“Different how?” he asks.

“That we’d just get past the breaking point and do it up against an office door or in a stairwell—” I trail off sheepishly.

“You thought this was inevitable,” he says a little wonder in his voice.

“Well yeah,” I say. “I just wasn’t sure how it would happen. I held out hope though. That we’d both give in eventually.” Ismile at him. Something hits me when I meet his eyes. “You were worried,” I accuse.

“You got hit with broken glass,” he says, fingertips stroking my hair back near where the bandage is. He kisses my temple and I clutch at his shirt. “I saw you bleeding and damn near lost my mind. I wanted to destroy them. Only thing that stopped me was you’re too precious to leave standing there. I had to get you in the building, get doors and walls between you and any danger. I wanted to bring you here.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say, I set the glass on a side table and turn back to him, not sure if it was the whiskey heating my veins or his nearness. I’m curled up in his arms on the couch and I tip my face up to look in his eyes. His big hand cups my cheek, strokes his thumb across my cheekbone. He really studies me and everything is going red and hazy at the edges.

I’m feeling pure sensation now with heated blood and trembling cold hands grabbing for his shirt and jacket. I clutch at the fabric in my fingers, waiting breathless while he cradles my face and then closes the inches between us.

I let my eyes drift shut but he stops about half an inch from kissing me for the first time.

“Look at me,” he commands. My eyes flip open, my body wants to obey him. My gaze clashes with his, my heart stuttering.

I watch him kiss me. The contact is brief and chaste, but my body goes molten at the first touch. My arms wind around his neck decisively and pull him down to me. Our mouths lock together, a perfect fit, and he nibbles at my lips, kissing me like it’s the only thing he ever wants to do.

He goes slow and take sensuous bites of my lips like little bee stings, licking and sucking until I’m thoroughly weak with desire, my body thrumming and tingling from his kisses. I slide my hands down from his neck until I’m pressing on his chest,my fingertips tracing his hard pectorals that I glimpsed when he showed me his tattoo of Fenway.

He lifts his face from mine and looks down at me, his eyes hazy and his mouth reddened from kissing me. He dips down and nips my lip again, unable to stop. I push in closer to him, resting my cheek over his heart like I wanted to the night he showed me his tattoo. I rub my face against his chest and wish I could make the fabric of his shirt disappear. He lifts me off of him and drags my sweatshirt over my head. I watch his handsome smolder and his composure shatter when he sees I’m naked beneath the shirt. His lips part but no sound comes out.

“Have I made the great Mickey O’Halloran speechless?” I tease.

He’s beyond teasing now though. It’s like the sight of me stripped bare to the waist does something to his resolve. He captures me, I don’t have a better word for it. He has me by the waist gripping me hard and lifts me to his mouth and tastes my nipple. It becomes a firm bud that strains and distends under his filthy ministrations. Every lick and pinch make me want to scurry away. It’s too intense, too perfect, too aware of everything we can’t be to each other.

In a matter of seconds, I practically climb him anyways. He’s holding me up and feasting on my breasts, flushed and heavy with arousal. Boldly, I swing my leg across his lap and he groans approval. His arm slides around my hips, anchoring me to him. He keeps licking at my nipples, sending sharp bolts of pleasure down my spine. I dig my hands into his thick dark hair and tug a little at his scalp. He responds, head tipped back, eyes on mine to ask what I want next. More of this, all of this, I want to say. I don’t even know if I can survive it. The intent way he devotes himself to me, the lavish caress of his tongue on my nipples, threatens to undo me completely. I start to shake all over. I pull away, his flushed face upturned to meet my gaze.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and everything feels blurry and warm. I sink down onto his lap, aware that I’m topless and he’s fully clothed.

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