Page 56 of Claimed By the Possessive Mafia Prince
“I’mgoingto keep you safe.”
“From what? From who? Your uncle?” She huffs when I don’t respond and turns away.
I grab her hand and spin her so she’s facing me again. When I pull her in for a kiss, she plants her hands on my chest and tries to push against me. But then I feel her resolve melt, and she leans in, giving herself a few moments of pleasure.
We kiss passionately as if we’re still fighting but with our mouths. I savor the texture of her lips, her taste, her everything.
She leans back, breathless. “Stop–people can see.”
“I don’t care if they can see.”
I kiss her again. She moans and grinds her body against mine. For long seconds, we sink hungrily into the heat. Memories of last night return to me-her beautiful, perfect body. Her curvy temptation.
She pushes away again. “MaybeIcare.”
“Maybe, maybe,” I repeat. “I like the sound of that. Gives me a chance.”
Her sunlight smile pierces her bad mood. “I’m serious. Stop. We’re just friends, remember?”
“I can agree, but I won’t mean it.”
“Oh–another lie, then?”
I sigh as I press my forehead to hers, wishing she could be inside my head.
“Aren’t you going to deny it?” she says.
“I’m doing my best here.”
“I don’t even know what that means.” When I don’t reply, she snaps, “But I get it. You want the young, naïve girl to bury her head in the sand and stop asking inconvenient questions. God forbid your island hookup has a head on her shoulders.”
“Again with thisisland hookupstuff. You’re the one who thinks this can only ever be that.”
“What is it going to be, then? Are you going to propose to me after a week of knowing each other, and then we’re going to ride off into the sunset for our happily ever after? Grow up, Dario.”
“There’s a middle ground between hate and love, Siena.”
“How poetic.” Her voice trembles, tears springing to her eyes. “Oh, really?”
She’s talking to herself now, demanding to know why she’s crying, angry with herself.
“Hey, come here.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. And that’s okay.”
I pull her into a hug. She slides her arms around my waist and presses her face against my chest, letting out a shaky sob.
Again, I wish I could tell her the truth. I’m in the mob. I’ve done bad things. She’s not crazy. Thereissomething more happening here.
Then I imagine her looking up at me with hate in her eyes.Let me go. You’re a monster.
“I just want to do a good job.”
“You are, angel,” I tell her. “And you’re doing a kickass job.”
“Do you have any idea how frustrating it is…” She sniffles, then leans away from me. I cradle her in my arms. “Knowing that someone is trying to ruin this chance and not knowing who or why?”
