Page 45 of Mafia Captor

I’m desperate now. I need to kiss him. “Please, turn me over.”

He grabs my hips, pulling out of me. I ache for him, wanting more. He lays me down on my back on the soft cushion of the oversized chair. I reach up for him, needing to put my arms around him. It’s been so long since we were first together. Now I don’t just want the dirty sex that he introduced me to and made me crave.

I want to see his face when he’s inside me. I want to know what’s going on in those dark eyes of his. I want to see what he feels.

A smile comes to my lips. I wrap my arms around his neck. “Please. Get back inside me.”

“Won’t make you ask twice.” He buries one knee into the cushion to the right of my thigh, then grabs my left leg behind the knee, lifting it and pressing down so the front of my thigh is against my stomach. He leans down, locks gazes with me, and enters me. In this new position he’s deeper than before. I touch his face, his cheek, his tattoo. I stare at him as the most intense look of pleasure eases over his face, and I know I’m the woman who put it there.

His pace builds as he curls his body around mine. The friction from the sexual tension that’s been building and building and building between us combusts into a bonfire. I’m clawing at the back of his neck, a cry lodged in my throat. The feeling of him in me is so intense, my mind feels faint, black circles closing in around my vision.

My breaths come faster, dots of sweat glistening along my hairline. My heart races. An all-consuming cloud of euphoria takes over my body. I’m leaving every inhibition, thought, tension behind as I tumble into the release. He brings his knee down, pulling me up, holding me tight against him as he enters his own climax. My arms wrap around him. I reach that no-turning-back point. My insides feel like they are bursting into twinkling stars.

Finally, he’s kissing me. Our tongues tangle as I melt into him. I run my hands through his hair. It feels so good to be back in his arms, satiated from our coupling.

I’m on cloud nine. This place, being with him, just feels like my life now. I feel like I’m home.

I don’t want to leave.

ChapterFourteen

Boston

I carryher upstairs and into the shower. Her skin is beautiful, gleaming as I run my soapy hands over every smooth inch, enjoying every caress. Rinsing off, I dry us with two big, soft towels. It’s so relaxing to climb into our pajamas and lie in my bed. I thought it would be strange to have a woman in my bed again. It’s been a minute. Instead, it feels like second nature to pull her against me, spooning her as she drifts off to sleep.

I love the feel of her soft weight against me. Even though I’m holding her, my mind wraps around her as well. Seems like all I think about is her.

The next day when I wake, she’s lying in bed on her side, moaning. My first thought is that I fucked her too hard last night. But she didn’t make a peep of complaint.

Panic hits my chest. “Are you okay? Are you getting sick?”

“No. It’s my period. No wonder I wolfed down so many cookies yesterday.” She’s burying her face in the pillows.

Any other woman on this earth mumbling those words at me? I’d be running—not walking—out of this room. But when Ashe says them? I sink down on the bed beside her, rubbing her back. “What can I do for you?”

“Really?” She peeks up at me from the face cave she made in the pillow. “You don’t have to do anything for me. I can take some ibuprofen and get back to work.”

“I think you’ve earned a day off. Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it.”

It takes some coaxing but finally I figure out what she needs. An hour later, she’s curled up in my bed, covered in a thick pile of blankets. Every ounce of chocolate I could find is on the nightstand, along with some healthy fruit I added to the mix. She wants wine but it’s too early, so I made her a mimosa with freshly squeezed orange juice. I flip on the television I’ve never used and spend five minutes with the remote, finding her the trashiest reality show I can.Driving your Exes’ Cars Off of Cliffs. Yes, it’s as mindless as it sounds. Exactly what she needs.

I toss the remote to her then lean down, kissing the top of her head. “I like all your freaky sides. Even the demonic PMS one.”

She holds a finger up at me. “You’re fine to say that today, but I’m just letting you know, if you had mentioned PMS a few days ago, you might not be standing here. You never tell a woman she’s PMS-ing. Especially when she’s PMS-ing.”

“Noted. So it’s chocolate, baked goods, wine, reality TV, and comfy blankets?”

“Even better?” She holds up her cookie. “Chocolate baked goods.”

“I can handle that,” I say. “I can handle all of you.”

That makes her smile.

We weather the storm. She’s tough and after twenty-four hours of a little spoiling, she’s back in action, flying around her office making last-minute adjustments for an event that I’m sure she’s already perfected. No sex. No kisses. I don’t get any attention from her.

For two fucking days, I only catch glimpses of her as she rushes around the place, doing her Ashe-event-planning thing. I’ll be glad when this thing is over, and things go back to normal.

At least I’ll get to spend time with her on ourdatedate.

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