Page 33 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

“I think it has everything to do with me,” I rumble, leaning forward until our faces are nearly pressed together. “In fact, I think if I put my hands inside… whatever the fuck this is, I think you’d be soaking wet for me, Rosin.”

Her pupils go wide, and her lips part. She licks them, and her little pink tongue darting out makes my cock pulse painfully against my zipper.

“Jumpsuit.”

I blink. “The fuck?”

“It’s called a jump–”

I don’t give a fuck.

I crash my lips over hers, because her voice is throaty and because when she spoke, she rubbed herself on my thigh.

She wants me.

I fucking know it.

Roisin leans into the kiss, her lips parting as my tongue slips inside. She moans, rubbing herself on my thigh as I drop her hands from mine and cup her face, deepening our kiss.

When I can feel her heat pulsing through the fabric of my trousers, I pull back and press my forehead to hers.

“Fuck, Roisin…”

“Do you want me or not?” she whispers.

I look down at her lips.

This is a very bad idea.

We’re not supposed to do this. We’re not supposed to have anythingreal.

And she just told me that she hates mafia men. Which I absolutely am. She said it with so much fire, it actually makes me feel like I’m going fucking crazy.

I know I must be, because I take one look at her beautiful green eyes.

And I decide.

I curl my hand up the back of her neck and grab a fistful of her beautiful strawberry blonde hair, pulling it out of the bun that she’s fighting a losing battle against anyway. It feels like yards and yards of silk in my hand, the curls wrapping around my fingers, welcoming me in, and I tug her head back to get better access to her mouth.

She gasps.

And I'm gone.

I devour her. There's no other word for it. I've never kissed anyone like this, and I've never had a kiss like this.

Ever.

Even when we kissed at the cottage, it wasn’t likethis.

This is so much more than just a kiss. It's... an obsession. I’m lost in her. My hands roam her body, greedy to experience everything. The silk of her skin and the lace covering it make me crazy, because the difference in textures makes me want to use all my senses on her.

I want to feel how wet she is for me.

I want to taste her skin, taste the spot that’s practically weeping onto my thigh.

I want to watch her, to see what she looks like when she comes, wrapped around me with her head thrown back, to watch my cock plunge into the sweet release of her body…

I want her. I want her so badly.

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