Page 34 of Sins of the Father
Then he dropped to his knees.
Mia’s world tilted when his mouth pressed against her core, hot tongue stroking, tasting, devouring. Her fingers curled tight on the edge of the desk as his tongue circled over and over, licking away the frosting, teasing deeper until she cried out.
“Luc…” His name broke from her lips on a strangled gasp.
He groaned low, the vibration making her shudder as he feasted on her. He licked again, relentless, until her body arched against him. Pleasure coiled tight, unbearable, every nerve ending alive as if fireworks exploded inside her. Her cries filled the study as she shattered, trembling and shaking under the force of her orgasm.
When she collapsed back against the desk, breathless and spent, Luc rose from his knees slowly, towering over her where she sprawled on the desk, breathless and undone.
With deliberate slowness, he licked the last trace of chocolate from his fingers, gaze locked on her.
“You taste better than any sin,” he murmured darkly.
He leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of her hips, caging her in. “You screamed for me,” he murmured against her mouth, voice low and edged with satisfaction.
Mia’s lips parted, her chest still heaving. Her cheeks burned crimson, but she didn’t look away. He kissed her again, slower this time, deep and thorough, savoring her taste mixed with chocolate and the faint salt of her skin. His tongue claimed hers until she was clinging to his shoulders, until her body arched into his as though she couldn’t help herself.
He traced his thumb over her damp lower lip, smirking darkly. “Sweetness suits you.” His hand slid lower, cupping herpossessively as if marking her. “Two more nights. Then we’re married. Few men anticipate desire with such… precision.”
Oh God.
Her breath caught at the ruthless promise, shame and longing twisting together until she could hardly tell them apart. Still, she found her voice, hoarse but steady. “Keep your tongue and hands to yourself until we are married.”
Luc chuckled, a low sound vibrating against her skin. He bent close, lips brushing her ear. “Tomorrow is our engagement party. Allow me to take you shopping.”
Her breath hitched. “An engagement party?”
“Hmm.” His voice was dark, measured. “Your aunts and cousins will be there.”
Shock widened her eyes. “I… I haven’t seen them since I was a child. I was close to Gio once and then… they vanished.”
Luc’s gaze sharpened, unreadable. “Then you will see how they receive you as my future wife.”
A tangle of fear, disbelief, and nervous anticipation twisted in her chest. She smoothed trembling hands over her skirt, struggling for breath.
“I’ve never gone shopping before,” she whispered, fragile but honest.
Luc’s gaze softened just slightly, though his voice remained commanding. “Then tomorrow, little dove, you will.”
For the first time since this nightmare began, Mia felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—eagerness. Dangerous, foolish, perhaps naïve—but impossible to extinguish.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After spending more money than she could comprehend on gowns, shoes, handbags, and jewelry, Mia hovered at the top of the sweeping staircase in one of Luc’s penthouses. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering New York skyline, lights stretching like a jeweled sea below. Crystal chandeliers cast a silver glow over the polished marble floors, while waiters in white jackets floated between clusters of tuxedos and gowns, offering gold-rimmed flutes of champagne and trays of caviar canapés.
Mia’s pulse stumbled. This was Luc’s world—opulent, untouchable, dangerous. Tonight, every eye would be on her.
She stepped forward carefully, testing the red heels strapped to her feet, though the saleswoman had called them “modest.” Her gown was black silk, strapless, clinging to her figure with shocking sensuality. Rubies glimmered at her throat and ears, bold against her pale skin. For the first time, Mia realized she looked like a woman who belonged to a mafia king.
Luc appeared at her side with the quiet inevitability of a storm, his hand settling at the small of her back—protective, possessive. His tuxedo molded to broad shoulders and apowerful frame; the crisp white shirt beneath and bow tie at his throat only emphasized his severity. But it was his eyes that sent a wild flutter low in her belly.
Was the heat in his gaze genuine? Or just another illusion spun like silk, meant to bind her tighter?
“Why did that man have to lose his arm?” Mia asked quietly, unable to hold the question any longer. The clink of glasses and hum of laughter surrounded them, but she only heard her own heartbeat.
“He should have lost his life,” Luc said, voice cool as stone.
Her breath caught. “Why?”
