Page 17 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

Something about him—his voice, his touch, his presence—ignites something deeper.

Something I don't quite understand. Not yet.

But there is this impulse, dangerous and luring, to hug him.

To find out if his body is as hard as it looks, to feel what I imagined Izzy felt last night when he took her into his arms. It has been so long since someone touched me other than to hurt me that now that he has, my body feels starved.

I feel like a person who got lost in the desert, is dying of thirst, and was offered a sip of water. And just like that person, I need more.

Before I can second-guess myself or lose my courage, I put my arms around him. Impulsive and reckless.

"Thank you." At least I have an excuse. "Thank you so much."

His body stiffens under mine, and for one frightening moment, I think he'll push me away, but then his strong arms envelop me too.

And it is everything I imagined it to be and so much more.

His body is just as hard as it looks; the muscles of his arms twitch all around me.

He's so much bigger, taller, wider—it feels like I stepped into the arms of a bear.

I lean my head against his chest, inhale the strong scent of his cologne, spicy and deep, and underneath that, him. Like forest and rain.

What started as a need to feel his arms around me quickly turns into much different sensations.

My heart rate picks up, my blood seems to heat, my stomach flutters, and my knees turn to mush.

My body yearns to melt into him, to become one with him.

I wanted one thing, got it, and now I want more.

So much more. I want to be able to do this every day.

Every hour. I don't know what's wrong with me, but there's a deep craving inside me —a hunger that won't be denied.

I'm not sure if it's my imagination or not, but his heartbeat sounds harder and faster. Speaking of hard. His loins are pressed against my stomach, and something is definitely twitching there, growing, poking against me.

My body reacts instantly, and I feel fluids building inside me, in that place. I'm not a complete fool. I know what that means. But I've never experienced that, not for real, anyways. It's not unpleasant. It's the opposite, despite the unmistakable ache accompanying it.

Since I initiated this hug, I know I need to be the one to break it, otherwise it'll be even more awkward, but God help me, I don't want to. I want to stay right here, in this moment, forever.

Calling up what remains of my willpower, I straighten my spine, lean away from him with a wide smile while brushing down my clothes, and force a breath into my lungs. I've spent too much time alone with him—too much emotion in one room. I need a reset—a distraction.

"You're welcome," he says, and again I think my imagination must be playing tricks on me, because he sounds… hoarser. The way he is looking at me is unnerving because I can't read it. With a final smile, I flee from his room.

A few years back, my parents gave me an online subscription for romance novels, and I've devoured every one. Reading is the only form of freedom I've ever known. I've read about men who burn and women who bloom for them. I read about obsession, protection, kisses that bruise, and touches that heal.

Sometimes, late at night, when the house was dark and cruel and I had only the glow of my screen, those books made my body heat in ways nothing else could.

Back then, I didn't believe real life could feel like that—like the pages promised.

But when Enrico wraps his arms around me…

when he looks at me like I'm something he'd burn the world to protect…

it's more than I ever imagined. More than the fantasy.

More than heaven, even. It's real. And it's mine.

No, worse.

Stronger.

More dangerous.

I should be afraid of him. He's a mafia prince.

But I'm not.

True to his word, Izzy is waiting just outside, arms crossed and grinning, already anticipating our shopping outing, and I have to reboot myself quickly.

"There you are!" she says, grabbing my arm without preamble. "Come on. We're going shopping!"

She pulls me to the large entrance doors. Outside, a yellow Lamborghini pulls up in front of the house. The driver hops out. "All ready for you, Signora Sartori."

"Thanks, Manollo." She grins at him and hops behind the wheel, petting the seat next to her. "Come on."

"Wait up!" I turn my head and see Enrico walking toward us.

Izzy groans and pulls me harder to the Lamborghini.

Manollo walks toward a dark, monstrous SUV, and I realize they will follow us. Enrico is striding faster. "Izzy! Wait up!"

"Come and catch me, big bro," Izzy grins and takes the driver's seat.

Hesitantly, I climb in next to her, and she revs the engine over whatever Enrico is yelling.

"Can't hear you!" She screams, rolling down my window, before taking off with breakneck speed around the fountain.

I watch Enrico curse and jump into another vehicle parked close by. It's black and looks like a tank.

"Better buckle up," Izzy suggests. We reach the long, paved road that leads to the street from the main house. The wrought-iron gate comes into view, getting closer. Izzy laughs and hits the gas pedal, "Hold on!"

My knuckles turn white as I hold on to the oh shit handle for dear life. Is she going straight through the gate? Men ahead of us hustle to open it. Izzy lowers her window and waves at them. Right before we hit the main street, she hits the brakes so hard that my seatbelt nearly chokes me.

"I like to keep them on their toes," she laughs, and I throw her an incredulous glance.

"What if they don't make it in time?"

"I suppose Enrico would have to deal with getting a new gate and me a new car." She winks at me.

The tank behind us honks as Izzy hits the gas once again after merging onto the main road.

She laughs, "He wants me to slow down."

"That might not be a bad idea," I manage, trying to get the seatbelt to relax long enough so I can take a breath.

She floors through a yellow light that turns red as we fly down the intersection. When I turn back, I see the tank and a black SUV following us, turning their lights on and off, while a cacophony of honks slowly dies down.

Izzy's phone begins to ring.

"Let me guess, you like to keep the guards on their toes as well," I wager.

She snickers. "I knew we'd get along."

A moment of silence follows, a moment where the world just blurs all around me because Izzy is driving so fast. My thoughts are jumbled, but one keeps returning: "Aren't you scared of pissing your brother off?"

Izzy laughs, "Life is too short to worry about things like that. Besides, he's not going to hurt me."

"But what about last night?" I press out, still holding on to the handle for dear life while Izzy takes a curve too fast, cutting off a motorist who gives us the bird. "Aren't you scared that if you lose the guards, that might happen again?"

She turns her head from the road to me, making my heart fall into my stomach with fear.

She looks serious now. "I realize now that there is always danger," she says, still looking at me.

I can't turn my eyes from hers. "But I refuse to let fear rule my life, and those guards," she looks over her shoulder, giving me the sudden urge to grab the steering wheel, "they better keep up. Otherwise, I'll have Enrico fire them."

Her attention finally returns to the road, and a deep sigh of relief escapes me. But her words ring true, making me realize that Izzy is like me —a tornado can come down on us, but we'll stand in its center, holding up our middle finger.

"You and me," Izzy says, reflecting my thoughts, "nothing that doesn't kill us will keep us down."

Ten minutes later, we pull up by the Valet parking in front of a mall I know well. Izzy throws the keys at a young man. "Take it for a spin," she winks at him.

The tank pulls up behind us, followed by the SUV.

Enrico gets out of the monstrosity, while six burly men in sunglasses and suits emerge from the other SUV.

His face is a mask of fury. Did I say I wasn't afraid of him?

I guess that was a lie, because right now, my heart moves up into my throat, skipping a beat.

"What part of slow down don't you understand, Izzy?" He thunders. Looking me up and down, he asks, "Are you okay?"

I manage a nod, preparing myself for Enrico's inevitable strike on Izzy. That's what Giovanni or Roberto would have done with Camilla. But Izzy only laughs. "What, couldn't keep up with your sister in that monster of a car?"

"That was reckless, and you know it," he scolds, but now I notice that he's trying hard to hold back a smirk.

Puzzled, I look from one to the other. Izzy nudges me with her elbow. "Guess who taught me how to drive?"

Automatically, I glance at Enrico, whose frown returns. "Had I known that getting you that Lamborghini would turn you into a Formula One driver, I would have bought you a Hummer."

Izzy laughs. "I might need that yet." Then she tilts her head. "Are you going shopping with us?"

He holds up his watch, giving the impression that he needs to be somewhere.

An impatient expression crosses his features, and he looks at Izzy first and then at me.

I can't get a read on the way his eyes hold mine, but a long, exasperated sigh escapes him.

"I was going to ask you to pick up some ties for me, but after your stunt, I suppose I am here now. "

"Oh, yay," Izzy expresses without much enthusiasm. She sends an apologetic smile at me. "Sorry, I thought we'd have fun."

"You'll still have fun, mocciosa —brat."

"Doubtful," Izzy giggles.

Their little spat gets interrupted by Enrico's phone. Izzy uses his distraction to pull me into the mall, which I've been inside a hundred times. It's Camilla's favorite shopping place too. Oh Dio , what if we run into her?