Page 47 of Attraction (Mobsters + Billionaires 3)
I take another drink. “Of course it is. But now I’m in my head about it.”
“What part?”
“I saw how uncomfortable he was around O’Shea, and I’m not much better than that guy.”
“Oh,please.”
I hold up my hands. “No, seriously—he’s gotta be scared because I’m…”
“A violent fucking mobster with the law on his back at all times?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but the worst I do is kill people who deserve it. That’s gotta count for something, right?”
“Oh.”
“Whaddya mean, ‘oh?’”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“No shit. You already know I haven’t been sleeping with anybody.”
“I know, and your father is rolling in his grave right now.”
I snort inelegantly. “I hope the fuck not. He better be burning in hell for what he put Hopper through.”
“Truth.”
Anthony downs the rest of his drink, pours another two fingers for himself, and then fixes me with a look.
“Don’t think for a second I’ve glossed over the fact that you and Ford kissed. How was it?”
I groan, rolling my eyes back in my head. “Fucking magic. God, holding him is…indescribable.”
“You have got itsobad,” Anthony says, pulling me into another hug. The big oaf is happy for me.
“Whatever, Mr. Domestic Bliss across the hallway.”
Anthony’s grin softens. Mads is good for him, and they’ve been good for each other. It’s been wonderful to see them grow closer, even if it makes my chest ache.
“And yes, I do have it bad for him. His lips are made of the softest stuff on earth. I wish…I wish I knew how to make him feel safe enough to give himself over to me. I know I can’t make everything better for him, but I would do whatever it took for him to be comfortable with me.”
“I suspect that until you understand why he’s waited this long to have sex, you won’t know the right thing to do.”
“I agree. It’s just…you know how I hate uncertainty.”
He pats my cheek. “True, but think about it this way: you’re not uncertain about your feelings for him. That’s a good thing. Better yet, you got confirmation that he feels the same. Unless he hated the kiss,” he cracks, elbowing me.
I shoot him a glare, which falls apart into what I’m sure is a goofy smile. “He melted against me, Anthony. For a second, it was as if he let me hold all of his stress and anxiety. He was with me in that moment.”
“And you liked being that for him?”
“Of course. One hundred percent.”
Someone clears their throat. Anthony and I turn around to find Joe standing there with a shit-eating grin, holding up the homemade bruschetta I asked him to bring.
“Not that I was eavesdropping or that you asked my opinion, but it’s about damn time.”
“It was just a kiss.”
