Page 65 of Mafia Boss's Fake Wife

I sigh, shutting the water off. I stick my arm out of the curtain. “Hand me a towel.”

A fluffy, thick towel appears in my hand.

I wrap it around myself, not bothering to dry my hair, and I step out.

Marco blinks. For a second, I relish the sensation of his eyes tracing the curve of my neck.

The darkness in his gaze.

Then, I remember.

He’s leaving.

Sighing, I turn. “What do you want to talk about?”

I’m not watching him. It’s the only reason that I don’t see what comes next.

It all happens so fast.

His hand grabs my arm and turns me. I look up, ready to tell him off, but I never get the chance.

His lips crash over mine.

This isn’t just a kiss.

It’s a revelation.

I might not be insanely experienced when it comes to men, but I can tell right away that this kiss?

It’s somethingdifferent.

I moan, my fingers rising to skate through Marco’s hair as I tip my head back. He devours me, one hand curling around the back of my neck in a gesture that’s possessive enough to make me shudder, and the other splayed on my jaw, forcing me into a position that is completely at his mercy.

This is nothing like our last kiss.

Heat scorches my body, racing over every scrap of my skin. I gasp as Marco’s mouth descends to my neck, lighting me up with kiss after kiss that seems to electrify every single nerve in my body.

I tuck him closer, running my nails down his neck. My other hand creeps up to where the towel is wrapped around my shoulders. I should just drop it…

Abruptly, Marco steps back.

His eyes are so dark they look like pools of ink. His lips, which have always been unfairly pretty for a man, are parted, and his hair is in disarray.

He looks like I feel.

Frazzled. Unsteady.

Devastated by that kiss.

Peering down at me, he gives a sharp nod.

“Finally.”

I blink. “Finally what?”

“Finally, the fucking brick wall is gone.”

Either my brain is completely toast, or he’s making no sense. “Huh?”