Page 94 of Runaway in the Mafia
His gaze rolled on me lazily. Heated my skin like a breeze on a hot summer day. My saree was a modern retelling. Divya had made a masterpiece out of it. The blouse, made of raw, gold silk, was a simple bandana around my breasts. The saree itself was a mixture of rich silk and soft linen in ivory, carrying little sparkles of gold beads. It was supposed to be light and breezy. But when his gaze found mine and burned with approval, it felt heavy and stuck to me like a feverish heat.
He pushed off the door, one hand in his pocket, the other rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Looks like a lot of work.”
Of all the things I’d thought he’d say, that wasn’t it. I shoved down the disappointment. Entirely. “Not really. I’m used to wearing them.”
“Good.”
Suspicion tickled in. “Why?”
Something dark and delicious glinted in his eyes. “What did I tell you about the next time you wear one of these?”
Fucking on the closest surface came to mind. The air filled with hot insinuation. Heavy. Tangible. Wicked.He can’t be serious.
“Does the O between your lips mean you remembered? Or should I jog your memory?”
“But—” My words stumbled. Without realising it, I was moving. My ass hit the windowsill. “We are getting married today.Now,” I added, in case he’d forgotten the time.
His expression didn’t shift. If anything, it only became more resolute. He moved towards me. Eating up the space between us. Slow and steady. “Should have thought of that before you put yourself in that.”
“You can’t be serious.” He was three feet away from me. His body heat radiating. Delicious. “There are people waiting, Vitale.” A crackle of laughter outside punctuated it. “Please.” I dropped all pretence and pleaded.
“I don’t give a fuck.” He orbited around me, and I moved nervously away from the window, avoiding him. “Now undress before I do it myself.”
“We shouldn’t do this.”
He went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “I can’t guarantee it’ll end up in one piece if I do it.”
“You can’t—”
He prowled towards me, his front an inch from mine. Dark determination swam in his eyes.
I hot-footed a step back. Held up my hand. “Okay. Okay.Mere to hosh udd gaye!”
He cocked his head. “I hope that’s just a long yes.”
I glared at him. “Of course not. It means I must have lost my mind.”
His eyes glittered dangerously. “You and me both, baby.”
I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t decide if it was a nightmare or a wet dream. Butterflies rustled in my stomach, and panic rushed in my eardrums. My hands were anything but steady when I lifted the tail of the saree resting on my shoulder.
“Spin,” he said, his eyes dark, words wrapped in a command.
I gave him my back and turned in confusion. Caught his scorching gaze in the mirror. The saree unfolded reluctantly, silk in my hands and heat in his gaze. It unravelled smoothly, as smooth as his eyes that followed its path, eagerly. When the nine yards of fabric were heavy in my hands, I laid it on the bed, careful not to damage the little beads wrapped within it.
The woman-eater behind me had no patience. An annoyed huff of breath left him before he pointed to my silk skirt. “That needs to go.”
The look in his eyes told me I’d better hurry if I wanted it in one piece. I wiggled and shimmied out of it. Outside, crystal glasses tingled. “Happy?”
“Not quite.” He nodded towards the bandana around my breasts.
Of course he would. I unclasped it and it flew to the bed like a golden butterfly. He licked his lips. My nipples tightened. Heat pulsed on my naked breasts. His gaze was intent. The green in it but a distant spark. It felt like he barely held back, and it did nothing to chill the heat spreading through my body. I tugged on my thong.
“Leave it,” he rasped.
His eyes were ravenous. A sound of satisfaction left him. It was all male and possessive. It was wild and burned like a furnace as it ran over my body. Top to toe and back. Again and again. His hand fisted, and behind his slacks, he grew heavy. I should have felt naked. Bare. Ashamed. But I couldn’t look away. This was the most seductive reflection I’d ever seen. A dark obsession grew inside me. Watching him watch me in the mirror was a thrill I wanted to chase. The little things I wore intensified everything. Abrasive like sandpaper on silk. The scrap of ivory lace between my legs was warm and drenched. The heels on my feet, sensitive. The jewellery around my neck and earrings heavy. My long hair coating my back was silk in heat.
His hand trembled when he placed it on my hip. It sizzled on my skin like lava and heat. He buried his lips on my shoulder and groaned into my skin. “Fuck, you were gorgeous in that saree, but without a stitch on, you’re fucking heaven.”
