Page 24 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
“Mm-hmm.” She doesn’t hide her humor well. Her lips are tightly rolled against one another, but the smile is still there. Lifting my hand, she peeks up at me through her dark lashes and blows cool air over the cuts and bruises.
I hold my breath, staring at her with wonderment.
“Better?” she asks, before dabbing more ointment across my knuckles.
I nod without saying anything. I don’t trust my voice.
No one has ever taken care of me before. I’m not sure I like it.
She wraps my hand in a bandage and places the icepack on it again, every movement gentle and careful, as if not wanting to hurt me more.
Nothing she could do to me could hurt.
“Thank you,” I say honestly, our eyes meeting in a heated embrace.
Time seems to slow, and the air in the room stills, making it hard to breathe. I lean forward just an inch to make her wonder if I will kiss her.
I’m won’t, but I want to.
I won’t break my word or the contract. The ball is in her court.
Her gaze drifts from my lips to my chest and to my cock, then she scrambles from the bed. “You need to be more careful. Make sure your cuts don’t get infected.”
She tries to run into the bathroom, but I’m there in a flash, grabbing the door before she can shut it.
I kick it open, take her in my arms, and force her to look at me by tugging on the thick of her hair. “Have you ever seen a man naked before, Delilah?”
“Yes,” she says, as if she’s offended.
I drag her hand across my chest, and a dark purr builds inside me. “Have you ever touched a man? Have you ever been fucked?” I pin her against the wall and hold her hands above her head, shoving my knee between her legs. The towel around my waist holds on for dear life. “Have you ever orgasmed on another man’s cock?”
“You’re foul. And that’s none of your business,” she seethes, our lips mere centimeters apart.
One hand drifts to her waist and clutches her hip. “It’s my business. Everything about you is my business now, Delilah.”
“No,” she whispers. “No, I’ve never been with anyone.”
An unstable breath floats between us, and I realize it’s from me. My cock hardens beneath the towel, my lust climbing to new heights. I shut my eyes, trying to calm down.
“How unfortunate,” I mutter, snapping my eyes back open while trailing my finger over her hip bone. “Your first time will be with a man like me.”
I back away, not bothering to hide how she affects me. I want her to know.
“Only when I’m ready.” She dares me to say otherwise, but I would never.
It’s important that when we have sex, she want me so much, she’ll beg for me, plead for me to ease the ache I’ve created. That she makes the first move is an essential aspect of the agreement that I will never change.
I’ll die holding to that agreement.
“Only when you’re ready,” I repeat softly, the nerves in her voice loosening the tight string managing my arousal. “I swear it.”
“How do I know you mean it?” She pulls at the hem of my shirt she’s still wearing, her gaze locked on the floor.
I don’t like that. I want her attention on me. I know our relationship is unconventional, but it is one I want to build. I have a lot to learn, and I will for her.
“And how do I know you won't bring other women to bed? I’m supposed to trust that you only want me. We just met—”
With a growl, I wrap my hand around her nape. “I take my agreements seriously. I am not a fucking twenty-something-year-old idiot who doesn’t know what he wants. I don’t take time to make decisions. I know what I want. I take what I want, Delilah. No other woman will warm our bed for as long as you lie in it.”
