Page 81 of Surprise Twins for the Mafia Prince
The corner of my mouth ticks up in a half-grin. “Well, now you do.”
“I’m a flawed man, Paige.” His voice is rough with emotion. “Sometimes, all I can think about is how flawed I am, and you’re right. It’s probably some leftover bullshit from my childhood, but I swear, just seeing the way you look at me gives me confidence that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.”
“But do you trust me, Dario?”
I hold my breath, knowing that whatever his response is, it could change our relationship completely. The silence stretches between us, every second feeling like an eternity.
His hand comes to my baby bump, and I feel one of our boys push against it—a little foot or fist pressing out as if to make contact with his father. Dario smiles, his eyes softening in a way that makes my heart ache.
“I trust you, Paige. I know that Luca is going to tell me I’m an idiot after what he saw in that restaurant, but I believe you when you say you didn’t tell him anything. And more importantly, Iknowthese kids are mine.”
“But you said?—”
“And I’m an asshole. I think we already established that. Too bad for you, because you’re stuck with me.”
I smile at his teasing tone. Sliding my hands up his arms and shoulders, feeling the corded muscle beneath his shirt, I lock my fingers together at the back of his neck. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, baby. Because I love you too.”
The fracture in my heart heals instantly. Joy floods my system, making me feel high and dizzy and invincible all at once.
I pull him down to me, pressing my lips to his like I can drink him in.
Dario takes over immediately, kissing me with the kind of hunger that saysyou’re mine.
Lust hits me, crashing through every nerve in my body.
He walks me backward toward the couch, hands tight on my hips. I nearly stumble, but of course—he catches me.
He always catches me.
Then he spins me around. One firm hand on the center of my back pushes me forward, bending me over the armrest. My palms find purchase, bracing. My heart beats like it’s trying to break free from my chest.
“I need you,” he groans, voice rough as gravel. “Right now.”
His hands shove my pants and panties down in one swift motion. I shiver at the cool air, and then his fingers are there, sliding up my inner thighs like sparks trailing fire.
I glance over my shoulder. His eyes are glued to me—hungry, dark, wild.
He slips two fingers inside me, and I arch with a moan, already so wet that he slides in easily.
God, yes.
My hips push back, instinctive, aching for more.
“So eager,” he growls, and the sound makes me clench around his fingers.
“Do you want my cock, baby?” His voice is molten sin. “You want it deep?”
“Yes,” I gasp. “God, yes—please, Dario.”
“I love it when you beg.” His voice is dark and decadent, like the richest chocolate melting on my tongue.
A third finger stretches me open, the burn delicious, the pressure tipping into pleasure so sharp it makes my vision blur.
His other hand slides up under my shirt, pushing the cups of my bra aside so he can squeeze my breasts—so sensitive now, they send electric shocks straight to my core.
I toss my head back with a gasp, the pleasure building fast, coiling tight inside me.
