Page 74 of Taken By the Mafia King
CHAPTER 53
SERA
“Faster,” I panted, my head pressed against the headrest as the lights of downtown Philly sped past me in a blur. Killian’s hand gripped my thigh, his fingers so achingly close to where I needed them to be.
I definitely felt those four dry martinis I’d guzzled down like water at the club. My mind swam on a turbulent tidal wave as his car hurtled toward home.
Home.
That mysterious behemoth of a mansion was the only home I had now. All the buzz from the alcohol left me as I realized I could never go back to the way things were before, not now that I knew the truth.
“Killian.” His palm warmed my skin. Despite everything, my body reacted to his proximity. Hitching my skirt up higher, I exposed my thighs. His gaze locked on the thin sliver of wet lace banding my crotch. Was it the alcohol making me feel this way or the memory of his fingers on my skin?
“Keep your dress on.” The smoke in his voice cut through my drunken thoughts.
“Touch me,” I pleaded, but he only squeezed my thigh. I whimpered, writhing in my seat.
Why did he have such power over me?
“You’re going to bed, Sera.”
“Your bed,” I challenged, looking over at him through a haze. Gorgeous.
His sharp jaw flexed as he stole a glance at me, noticing my stare. One eye twitched in irritation, which only made that desperate ache in my core throb with increasing longing. “I’ll let you do whatever you want.”
Oh, nowthatdid something to him. I could see it in his eyes and the way he bit down on his lower lip.
“You’re shitfaced, angel. It’s not going to happen.”
“Your loss,” I sang, closing my eyes. “You may never have this chance again.”
He chuckled in a low rasp. “I have no idea what you mean by that, seeing as you’re throwing yourself at me like a cat in heat. Drunk thoughts are sober wants, or so it’s said.”
“I want to kill you when I’m sober.”The same way he’d killed my brother.
“I know.”
“You knew this whole time about my dad, didn’t you?” My words were slurred. I was babbling like a fool now, barely able to hang on to the single thread of consciousness tethering me to reality.
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why would I?” he replied coldly, but his hand was still warm and heavy on my leg. He shifted, his hand grazing upward, fingers brushing over the tender skin of my inner thigh. I let out a soft curse, arching against the touch. His low laugh echoed over the sound of the engine. “You don’t know what you want, Sera. If I fucked you right now, you would enjoy it. But you’d wake up in the morning regretting it.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I purred, sliding down in my seat, daring him to slip his hand higher.
“I am not your hero.” The words were laced with ice. “Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t need a hero.” The same anger I’d felt toward my father earlier rose to the surface again, and I was ready to fight, but then that last martini hit me full force. Inky darkness swelled in my mind as the alcohol numbed every sensation. Time ceased to exist, and I didn’t realize we were home until I felt his arms around me as he lifted me out of the car.
He carried me upstairs at what seemed a ridiculously slow pace. I pressed my cheek against his chest and opened my eyes to slits, wishing it was his flesh against mine. Even when my stomach was churning and my head was spinning, I wanted him.
“Put me down,” I said softly when we entered my room. Moonlight drifted in through the windows on the far wall, casting the whole space in shadow.
“I don’t think you can stand upright.”
“If I can,” I muttered, undoing one of the buttons on his shirt, “I want you to come to bed with me.”
