Page 54 of Taken By the Mafia King
“Did Gabriele de Luca touch you?” His voice, full of smoke and embers, grated over the words.
I didn’t know what to say.
My silence spurred him forward into the light. “Did he touch you, Seraphina?”
“Yes,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around myself. “But not the way he wanted to. You… interrupted him.”
The ice behind his eyes cracked as he took a step toward me. “But hedidtouch you.”
I nodded, thinking of the man’s thick fingers on my body.
There was something deep and painful behind Killian’s icy glare. What happened tonight? What had he seen that was plaguing him? And why had it sent him here to me like this?
“I would have done anything to give myself more time.” I swallowed hard and rounded the bed so we were face to face with only a few feet between us. “Just like Delaney would do anything you asked to give herself more time.”
“I’m not here to talk about her.”
“Then why are you here?”
He leveled me with a look I couldn’t decipher, so I went on.
“What’s going to happen to her now that you’ve killed her father? Are you going to kill her too, or does she still have some use for you, Killian?”
“We’re not talking about Delaney,” he whispered, taking a step toward me.
I didn’t back away. “Why am I here if you know my father won’t come for me?”
He took another step, his fingertips slowly brushing down the silk sleeve of my robe. “Sometimes I feel as though I have that answer. That I need you here for my own gain. That you are of some use to me.”
“And what use is that?”
“Power,” he rasped, eyes locked on mine. “I have what others seek in my possession, and I don’t like to share. You being here, in my home, under my control is a threat to them, Seraphina.” He closed the distance between us in a final step, the back of my thighs brushing against the footboard, but he didn’t press his weight against me. “But sometimes I wonder if I’m keeping you for another reason. A selfish one.”
I lost my grip on that anger and felt it slip through my fingers as his hand caressed my cheek, his thumb pressing under my chin.
“Do I scare you,mia cara?” He moved in close, his lips grazing my ear, sending a chill licking down my spine.
“Sometimes,” I answered breathlessly, tilting my head back and closing my eyes as his soft laugh tickled my neck.
I desperately fought the urge to give in to him and hold firm to the questions I had asked, but his power over me, over my body, was incredibly hard to ignore.
“Why are you keeping me here?” I reached for him. My fingers curled into his shirt. “Why won’t you let me go?”
“I can’t,” he whispered. Then his mouth met mine in a kiss. He stole my breath away, stole whatever argument I’d formed in my mind, and stole the last shred of willpower I had as the kiss deepened into something much more.
His tongue slid over mine. I lost myself to him then, Mano Della Morte, and melted in his arms.
His hand ran down my back, cupping my ass. I ground against him, needing more of him, more of whatever this was that had been building between us. I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I couldn’t fight this. I was so tired of fighting. Fighting for my life. Fighting for freedom. And fighting for him to finally touch me.
I shuddered when his other hand pulled the robe down over my shoulders and arms. I let the fabric fall away until I was in nothing but the practically sheer nightgown. He cupped my breasts, thumbs flicking over the silken fabric.
His hand traveled lower, fingers splayed over the flat of my stomach as he sucked my lower lip. His other hand stopped kneading my ass and began hiking up my nightgown. His touch was warm on my bare thigh as his fingers inched toward my center. I gasped at his practiced touch, his fingers sliding against the wetness that pooled between my thighs.
I ached for him. I wanted his touch so badly I began to grind against his fingers.
“I want you,” I whispered. “Please, Killian. Ineedyou. I’ll do anything.”
“I love it when you beg,” he replied in a rasp that had my blood lighting into flame.
