Page 41 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
For a fleeting second, shock hits me with the hand-warmed liquid. There wasn’t much in the glass, but it was enough, and I take that opportunity and unbutton my shirt. My cuff links hit the stone floor as I do so. I peel off the shirt and wipe my face.
When I look at her, her expression is alive with a mix of horror and something else I can’t quite read. Her gaze shifts from the Celtic tattoos on my chest to the wound on my upper arm where she shot me years ago.
Harry drinks in the scarred flesh that is now covered by a sleeve tattoo of never-ending knots and bloodied swords. Ironically, the spot where she shot me was right in the center of a shamrock tattoo that matched Shiv’s.
For a while, I considered it a penance.
I’ve added more ink since then to blur the memories that assault me every time I look at it. Now there are two more Celtic crosses, one on my inner wrist and a giant one with agreen center on my back. The intricate designs scream war and death and whatever waits for me beyond.
She absently reaches out to touch the old, old wound.
“I wear it to remind me of you, Harry.”
And she flinches.
Her eyes catch on a tattoo of a warrior slaying a man. I’m not sure which one is the villain or the victim, even now.
But her eyes are heavy and hot on my skin. It’s like being touched.
“You just woke the beast like you wanted.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want anything but you gone from my life.”
“You want me and you hate that you do.” I grab the heavy cross around her neck and pull. The chain is old and weak, and so is the clasp. It breaks and I let it clatter to the ground, then wait.
She doesn’t disappoint.
Harry shoves me and tries to run for the door, but I grab her by the waist and pull her back.
“Idiot,” I snarl against her ear. “You can’t go out there. Remember, you do what I say?—”
“I’m not yours to boss around.”
“You are. That ceremony said so.” I pull her tight against me so she can feel my erection.
“It’s not done.” Her cry is wild, desperate. “We haven’t had sex. And it wouldn’t matter if we did. I’m… I’m not a virgin.”
I laugh and drag her, half lifting her to the bed, and throw her down in the center.
“You’re so fucking virginal I bet you’ve never touched a man.”
Her lips press together as she gauges the situation. Then sheflops back. “Fine, rape me. Go on.”
Shit, this is good fuckingcraic. The air between us is so sexually charged that I could get a severe electric shock from it.
I hover over her. “I’m going to have you, but it won’t be rape.”
“That’s what against my will means, and my will’s against you.”
“Maybe so, but your will’s also panting with the rest of you for my cock.”
I rise up to my knees, pull off my belt, flick it in the air, then snap it so it’s looped.
Her eyes get big and glassy.
She can’t look away.
But I’m not ready for that. Yet.
