Page 54 of Dangerous King (Savage Kings of New York #2)

"You're very naughty, Piccolina."

"I'm foolish," I whisper back. "But apparently, so are you."

He grins, eyes glinting with heat. "Foolish would be not showing up."

My back hits the fridge. His arms cage me in. One palm rests beside my head. The other slips to my waist, curling there like it belongs, which it does. Every breath between us turns into static.

"I missed you," I admit, softer now.

"It's been only a few minutes," he teases, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Too long," I say, wondering if I'm an idiot for baring my soul like this to him. He nods once, and then his mouth is on mine—hot, certain, claiming—making me forget all about my insecurities.

His tongue dominates mine, conquers my mouth, and I surrender all too willingly to his demands.

I fist his shirt to pull him closer, then grab his bulging biceps while heat spreads through my core.

One of his hands burrows in my hair, the other grabs my hip, pulling me into him, so I can feel his hard erection.

He's showing me just how much he wants me, too.

The thought of this man wanting me makes me dizzy with happiness.

His hand moves from my hip to my ass, kneading it, while his tongue is consuming me.

A moan escapes me, of its own volition, my right leg lifts to snake around his hip.

He moans and pushes his hip harder into me, while his hand moves from my ass, into my pajama pants, around my thigh until it reaches my pussy.

A low moan escapes me, but it turns into a hiss when his finger enters me.

I'm wet for him, ready, but I guess I'm still a little sore.

He stops instantly, retrieves his finger, and leans his forehead against mine.

"I'm sorry, Cat. I forgot." His breathing is hard and ragged.

I feel like a failure. "I'm so sorry I failed you."

"You didn't fail me, Piccolina. You undid me." His voice is rough, but it feels like silk, threading through every part of me. "One touch from you, and I forget the world."

I swallow hard, still slightly breathless. "I just… I don't want to disappoint you."

"Impossible." His mouth curves into something fierce, "You're healing, that's all. I should have remembered. I should have controlled myself."

"You lose control with me?" I ask, more hopeful than teasing.

He chuckles low in his throat, pressing a kiss to my jaw, then my collarbone. "Completely. And I don't care who knows it."

I smile, warmed all the way through, and let my hands slide down the front of his shirt. "Good."

"Why?" he murmurs.

I rise on tiptoe, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth. "Because I want you to be mine, too."

Something snaps in his eyes; it's like a fuse finally lighting. He cradles the back of my head again, but this time he doesn't kiss me. Not yet. His eyes drink me in like I'm something holy.

"You are," he whispers. "Mine."

Then his lips touch mine again, softer this time, lingering, like worship, not war. The promise in that kiss is more potent than any climax. He's not just touching my body anymore. He's touching the place no one else ever reached—my soul.

But just because I'm sore, doesn't mean I can't…

a wicked plan forms in my head. Before I can lose my nerve, my hand moves to the bulge hidden in his pants.

It's so massive, so hard. I swallow. Can I really do this?

I've seen it in movies, read about it in novels, and they all make it sound so easy, but here I am, a nervous wreck.

He groans at the touch of my fingers; his hips automatically move into my grip. Now or never…

I sink to my knees.

"Cat, what are you doing?" He asks, deeper now.

"I don't know," I answer honestly, "I've never done this before… you… You'll need to help me."

My fingers fumble with his belt, and a shudder moves through him. "Cat." My name is like a curse on his lips, like he doesn't know if he should let me do this or stop me. I free the belt, but hard hands reach for my armpits to pull me up, "Not like this, Piccolina. Not here, not now."

His eyes are dark pools. But all I can focus on is him stopping me. "Don't you… want me?"

"Fuck, Cat, I want you more than I've ever wanted anything. Trust me. I want to be all your firsts, but not here. Let's do this right, okay?"

What is he saying?

I stare at him.

"Stolen kisses will have to do. Mamma is right, and I respect you too much to take you on the kitchen counter like some back-alley secret," Enrico finishes, his voice a low, rough whisper that vibrates against my skin.

"You're not a quick fuck, Cat. You're the woman I'm going to marry.

And when I take your mouth for the first time, it's going to be in a bed, with your hair spread out on a pillow and your eyes on me.

It's going to be slow, and deep, and mine. "

I should be embarrassed.

But instead, I feel… powerful.

Wanted. Revered.

Like I'm not just some pretty thing to be used, I'm everything he's ever craved and never allowed himself to have.

A strange knot loosens in my chest, one I didn't even realize I'd tied there.

His hands are still holding me gently beneath the arms, and I lean into them now, wrapping my arms around his neck and breathing him in.

"Okay," I whisper.

He brushes his lips across my forehead. "You're going to kill me, Cat."

I smile against his chest. "Good."

He laughs softly and kisses the top of my head. Then, reluctantly, he steps back. "I'd better go. Before I fail both your honor and my restraint."

I pout, just a little, which makes him groan like I've stabbed him. He grabs my face and kisses me one last time—soft and devastating—then backs away toward the hall.

"I'll see you in the morning," he says.

"I'll be dreaming of you," I tease.

He winks. "Then let's make sure I give you something worth dreaming about."

He scoops me up like I weigh nothing and carries me up the stairs. Where Eliza stands, hands pushed into her hips. "Right in there, and right back out." She orders.

"Si Mamma," Enrico smirks, carrying me to bed, kissing me gently and chastely on the lips. "Good night, mi amore."

And just like that, he walks out of the room, leaving me dreamy-eyed and trembling alone.

Mi amore . I turn over, grab the pillow, and hug it tightly to my chest. Mi amore, he called me.

I listen to the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

I can still feel the ghost of his kiss on my lips.

Still feel the warmth of his arms around me.

My heart does a little somersault.

Shadow thumps his tail and whines from his crate. I walk over, open it, scoop him up like Enrico scooped me up, and take him to bed.

"We're in so much trouble," I whisper into his warm, furry body. He sighs and flops over dramatically, like he agrees.

I pull the covers up to my chin, the soft scent of Enrico still clinging to my skin, to my hair.

Everything feels charged, like the whole world shifted on its axis.

I stare up at the ceiling, smiling in the dark, because I'm starting to realize something: This might be real.

And I might be falling in love with this man.

A mafia boss. A ruthless killer. Everything I despised at the Giordano house now feels… normal to me.