Page 15 of Mafia Captor

Now that he mentions it, there’s a tingling across my chest, a heaviness in my breasts, a reaction to his close proximity. I inhale a shaky breath, parting my lips to deny, deny, deny. The words don’t come.

“You breaths come quicker each time I speak.” He lifts his hand, bringing it close to my face. This stranger has the audacity to drag the rough pad of his thumb across my chin. Tingles of fire dance across my skin, leaving a starburst of heat in the wake of his touch.

Am I? Breathing heavier? No idea. My mind feels like a cloud, his words wrapping cotton around my brain. My tongue is thick in my mouth. Can’t think. Can’t speak.

His hand is on my waist. Heat and pressure intensify as he drags me closer. My breasts graze his chest, causing a sharp intake of breath that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. The sexy flip-your-tummy smile crosses his face.

“And there’s a lovely pink in your cheeks. Matches the drink I spilled on your dress.” His finger glides across my cheekbone. “If you’re not considering it, why are you blushing?”

He’s the one who spilled my drink? He did it on purpose, knowing he’d corner me back here? The man is obsessed with me. I’m equal parts fearful and flattered. This big, bad, powerful mafia man wants little ol’ me.

But… why?

Digging deep, I find my nerve. I focus my breath like I’m in hot yoga class, steadying my voice. I’ve only got one word to get out, but I want to sound confident when I say it. “Why?”

His brow creases, his strong shoulders rising in a shrug. “Why, what?”

“Why… me?” I force myself to meet his gaze. Something changes in his eyes, a softening? Perhaps a flash of guilt? A momentary realization he’s absolutely mental? The look is gone before I can decipher the emotion behind it.

“Do you want the truth?” he asks.

Do I? Can I handle it? What if he says he has a thing for chubby girls? Ugly girls? I know I’m not either of those things, not really, but my confidence has taken a hit over the past two years. I don’t have luck in love, but I’m successful otherwise. I work hard. I’m strong. I can handle the truth. Whatever it is. Whatever feeling is buried in his dark little heart.

I steel my nerves. “Yes.”

His gaze roves from my eyes to my lips, to my breasts, back to my eyes. He shakes his head. “Dunno.”

I don’t know what answer I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. Now I’m getting frustrated. I don’t have to focus on steadying my voice now. Instead, I’m tempering it. The man is infuriating.

“Let me get this straight.” My hand goes to my hip. “You don’t know me whatsoever, but you take it upon yourself to spill my drink, cancel my date, corner me in a dark hallway, then make a very, very lewd—” My mind goes blank for a moment. What do you call it when a man tells you he’s going to…effyou? “—proposition, and then you tell me you don’t even know why you did all those things?”

The heat from his eyes rakes over me like he’s dragging prongs over coals. “The truth is, I’ve heard your old boss talk about you. A lot. Then, at his wedding, I saw you. You were standing there in a black dress, biting your lip, worrying over something. And I. Don’t. Know. I just…” His gaze bores into mine. “Wanted you.”

A warm liquid feeling rushes through me, loosening the tension in my body. I take a deep breath and with my inhale, I absorb the meaning of his words.

He just wanted me.

Someone… wants me.

The good feeling that flattery brings only lasts a moment. I’m in danger. I’m pinned to the wall by a man who thinks he bought me.

“I wanted you and I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He moves in, his lips so close to mine, I can feel the heat coming off his skin. “And I always get what I want.”

Should I slap him or give him what he wants?

“Well,” I say, remembering the rules I’ve set for myself. “I don’t kiss on the first date. I mean… not that this is a date, per se, this is more of a very rude bypassing of my original date—"

“Fuck your rules.”

And his mouth is on mine.

My heart thrums in my chest as my eyes close. The heat of his hand warms my lower back as he pulls me into him, his other hand slipping up the back of my neck, causing an explosion of tingles to flicker down my spine. His motions are controlled, experienced; this man knows how to kiss a woman. My knees go melty, and I have to slip my arms around his neck to brace myself, using him as an anchor to keep from floating above the clouds.

What the heck am I doing! I try to pull away, to break the embrace, to do the right thing. Which is not letting this dangerous stranger swipe his tongue against mine. I’m a good girl, I don’t let strange men kiss me. I struggle to pull away and he holds me tighter, his hand now dipping below my waist, cupping my ass in his palm, squeezing it. I should be slapping him, but it feels so good, and I have this thing where if any guy touches my butt I just go into overdrive and now I’m pressing against him, and the kiss grows deeper. Possessive, aggressive, controlling. And my God, is this man in control of my body right now. I’m practically melting against him. Melting everywhere. I’m going to be a puddle of Ashely if I don’t stop this kiss, but now he’s squeezing my ass again, fingertips digging into my flesh, and it’s been so long since a man has touched me and no man has ever touched me like this, with so much power and confidence. But… but…. but…

I flatten my hands against his chest, pushing him away. “Stop.”

He turns, grabbing a corner of a picture frame. He tugs at it, pulling hard. The frame drops to the floor, glass shattering at our feet.

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