Page 92 of Broken Mafia Bride
But Raffaele’s shattered expression sears itself into my memory—and I have a sinking feeling it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
And maybe it’s not the kiss that haunts me. Maybe it’s how much I wanted it—until I remembered who he is now.
28
RAFFAELE
“Raffaele, wake up,” a familiar voice whispers.
My eyes flutter open, and I’m met with the most incredible sight.
Giulia leans over me, her eyes half-lidded, dark with desire. Her mass of chestnut hair is loosely gathered in a messy bun, strands tumbling free around her face.
I take a moment to take her in.
She’s wearing one of my gray T-shirts—oversized on her—and the fabric has slipped off one shoulder, revealing a stretch of smooth, bare skin that makes my pulse stutter.
“Raffaele,” she whispers again, her hand reaching down to drag through my hair. “Are you up? I missed you.”
I sit up slowly. “What are you doing here?”
She gives me a look, then giggles. “Where else would I be, silly? I’ll always be with you, Raffaele. Always.”
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I flip us over until she’s beneath me, still giggling, her eyes bright now. The early morning sun filters in through the half-open curtain, turning her eyes into a kaleidoscope of color. She is iridescent, perfect, and I want to preserve this moment for eternity.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“Then kiss me,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I waste no time. My mouth comes down on hers in a kiss that starts slow, but she deepens it, sliding her tongue into my mouth with a deep moan.
My hands trail up her legs, pushing the shirt higher. She breaks the kiss just long enough to whip it over her head, leaving her smooth, honeyed skin glowing in the light.
My mouth waters. I lower my lips to the pulse in her neck, nipping gently.
Her back arches, pressing her breasts into me. She moans, nails digging into my back, raking down. My mouth opens over her collarbone, dragging my tongue across her skin.
Giulia hums low in her throat as I continue my descent, closing my mouth over the hardened peak of her nipple.
“Ah—” she gasps, breath catching as her back arches.
I cup her other breast, circling her nipple with my thumb, teasing it until her moans grow louder. My teeth graze her, pulling another sharp breath from her lips.
“Raffaele—please,” she pants as I shift to her other breast, giving it the same slow, reverent attention.
When I finally move away, I trail open-mouthed kisses from her breast down to her belly button, until my face is at her slick center. I breathe her in, desire replacing the blood in my veins. My skin buzzes, alive with need.
She lifts her hips, pressing herself harder against my mouth. I flick out my tongue and taste her.
This time, we both moan. I want to eat her, drink her in, and fuck her with my tongue until she’s reduced to mindless lust—until she’s sobbing and begging, her juices running down my jaw. But I’m far too coiled up. My cock is hard enough to pound nails, and I’m this close to coming out of my skin.
She drives me fucking insane.
Everything about her is perfection—crafted to bring me to my knees, every single time.
I lean over her, slanting my mouth over hers again, letting her taste the faint evidence of her desire on my tongue. She gasps into my mouth, her body trembling with need.
“Please,” she croaks, gaze limpid.
