Page 91 of Broken Mafia Prince
“But you deserve better. You deserve a future without pain and a life where you don’t have to ever look over your shoulder,” he continues.
For a second, I almost wish for that normal life, the one without pain, without him. But then, in the deepest part of me, I know that this—whatever this is—feels like my only truth. I decide that I want it all. Anything, everything that comes as package and parcel of being with Raffaele, I’ll gladly accept it.
“Kiss me,” I whisper, my throat dry, desperate. “Please.”
He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t think I should.”
“You’re overthinking this,” I say, my hands gripping his shirt.
“Am I?”
“Raffaele, I?—”
“You deserve flowers, chocolate, a kiss from a man you won’t regret,” he says, pain in his voice. “God, baby, you deserve so much more than a bastard like me can ever give you.”
A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. “I also deserve to feel alive, to feel wanted by someone who makes my heart race,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I lift my gaze to meet his. “I deserve to give my virginity to a man of my choosing. The one standing right in front of me, the one who’s taken over my thoughts since he came back into my life and made me realize everything I’ve been missing. I’ll never regret you, Raffaele. So please, kiss me. After that… take me to your car, and let’s pretend, just for tonight, that we aren’t who we are.”
He steps back, but I pull him closer, fists clenched in the front of his shirt. “Don’t say no. Don’t tell me what I deserve or don’t deserve,” I plead.
“Giulia—” His voice breaks, but I don’t let him finish.
I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his, stopping his protest. The one time I need him to be an asshole, he decides to be the sweetest, most considerate man. For the first time, the man I need is the one who kisses me like I’m his salvation and his ruin. Like I’m the reason he’s breathing, the reason he’s standing there.
The one that made me come on his kitchen counter and looks at me like he wants to take me apart and put me together again.
That’s the one my heart beats for. The one I’m starting to realize might always beat for.
When he pulls away, his voice is rough. “I need you.”
“Then take me,” I whisper against his lips.
Suddenly, I’m swept into his arms, my hands wrapping around his neck as he carries me away. The night will live in my head forever—a night that will haunt me, shape me, and maybe break me. But somehow, it will never be a night I could ever regret.
29
RAFFAELE
Idrop her into the back seat of the car and then crawl into the small space with her. Being with Giulia like this has featured in my fantasies more than a few times. In fact, too many times to count.
And I have no doubt that the real thing will be far better than anything my fantasies could have ever made up. The only difference is that not once had I imagined that when I finally got my hands on her again, it would be in the back of my car.
Fuck. I feel a little like a high schooler trying to score with the hot cheerleader.
The car is compact, so there’s not a lot of leg room, which feels like torture at the moment. I want to be able to get my mouth on every crevice of her. I want to take my time and introduce her to a world of endless passion. I tell myself there will be another time, but deep down, I know there might very well never be a next time.
As if she can hear my bleak thoughts, she suddenly surges forward, her mouth crashing on mine with zero finesse. There’s nothing coy or hesitant about the kiss. It’s desperate, wild, andhungry; it’s all the things she’s been keeping tamped down, and I revel in it.
“Raffaele…” She lets out a moan when I take over the kiss, my tongue delving into her mouth, chasing the taste of her.
My hands grip her hips, and I lift her into my lap until she’s seated astride me, grinding down on my erection trapped behind the zipper of my pants. My fingers rake into her silky curtain of hair, fisting it. She lets out a mewling sound as my mouth begins to explore the edges of her jaw, mouthing at her neck.
She throws her head back, small hands clutching the front of my shirt to keep me locked in place. I want to tell her that not even the hounds of hell can rip me away from her at the moment.
I pull my mouth away to grip the hem of her blouse. “I want this off.”
She slaps my hand away impatiently and tugs the burgundy material off her body, tossing it to the front of the car carelessly. Her half-lidded eyes are colorful pools of lust as they meet mine. After a moment, my gaze drops down to her exposed leopard-print bra.
As soon as she sees that she has my attention, she reaches behind her, unclasps the bra, and lets it fall down her arms. I suck in a breath, staring unabashedly. I’ve always been a breast man, and Giulia easily has the best pair I’ve ever seen.
