Page 63 of Mafia King of Lies

She melts into me on instinct, like she was made for this, made for me, her body curving into mine, fitting against me like there was a space carved just for her.

I growl against her mouth, feeling the way her body molds into mine. My grip tightening on her waist, my fingers fisting the silk of her nightgown, pulling her even closer, deeper, like I could swallow her whole.

She gasps, but I devour the sound, tilting her head back, kissing her harder, deeper, bruising. Her nails dig into my chest, and instead of stopping, it fuels me.

She shivers, but she doesn’t pull away.

No.

If anything—she presses closer.

Her arms wind around my neck, her body arches into mine, desperate, pleading, demanding more. Her tongue flicks against mine, teasing, and I growl, taking control, taking everything, losing myself in her the way I swore I never would again.

Because this is war.

And neither of us are surrendering.

I curse under my breath, my hand sliding up her spine, feeling every delicate dip, every subtle tremble beneath my touch. She’s intoxicating—so damn intoxicating that I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.

Maria fists my shirt, her nails scraping lightly against my skin through the fabric, and it ignites something primal inside of me. I spin us around, pressing her back against the edge of the counter, caging her in.

She looks up at me through heavy lashes, lips swollen from my kiss, breath coming in short, uneven pants. “Matteo…”

My name on her lips sends a dangerous thrill through my chest. The way this woman affects me is unreal. She unhinges my normal restraint.

She’s mine.

And God help me, I want to remind her of that in every way possible.

I lower my head, letting my lips graze the side of her throat. She tilts her head instinctively, granting me more access, and I take it—pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below her ear. Her hands thread through my hair and they pull at the soft strands.

I feel all the blood rush down my cock. It strains against my pants, begging to be let loose into her. The need for her is raw, untamed, and out of control.

I nip at the sensitive spot beneath her jaw. “Tell me to stop.”

Silence.

“I don’t want you to.”

I groan, dragging my teeth over the pulse in her neck before kissing the spot as if in apology. My hands travel lower, gripping the backs of her thighs. In one swift motion, I lift her onto the counter, stepping between her legs.

Maria gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders to steady herself. “You’re insufferable,” she mutters, but her fingers slide up, threading into my hair.

I smirk against her skin. “And yet, here you are, letting me touch you.”

She huffs, but there’s no real bite to it. Instead, she tugs on my hair—hard. I growl, capturing her lips again, kissing her deeper, slower, drawing out every ounce of tension that has been simmering between us since the moment we met. And ithasbeen there, even though I did my best to deny it.

There has always been something about her that drew me in. Like a siren call that draws sailors into her treacherous waters.

Her hands slip beneath my shirt, dragging across my bare skin. I feel the hesitation in her touch, the way her fingers linger like she’s memorizing me. And damn it, I let her. Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, I’m memorizing her too.

Every soft sigh, every small shudder. Every single piece of her. I want to know every inch of her.

I pull back slightly, ripping my lips from hers. My lips are bruised and tingling from her touch. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to catch my breath.

“We should stop.”

Her brows furrow, her expression shifting from lust to frustration. “You’re kidding, right? Don’t do this to me again, Matteo. Not when you kissed me like you want to fuck me. I don’t want to go through this back-and-forth with you again. Either you take me here and now or we move past this for good.”

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