Page 13 of Forbidden Pregnancy (The Buffalo Italian Mob Family #2)

Everything about Michael’s presence makes me deeply nervous.

What do men built like Greek statues even talk about…

aside from football. I can’t make conversation about wide receiver Stevie Johnson or Kyle Williams all day.

I honestly can’t even make it past this sentence talking about football.

When we step outside together, Michael stands close enough to me that his arm brushes up against mine, there’s no more pressure for me to speak.

“Cosima looks forward to your lessons every week. I hope she doesn’t scare you off.”

“Cosima won’t scare me off.”

He looks over at me calmly, as usual, but with red across his cheeks. “I hope I don’t scare you off either.”

“That’s far more likely than Cosima scaring me off,” I answer honestly, and perhaps too quickly considering Michael has the power to fire me at a moment’s notice.

He chuckles at my push back.

“Don’t stop fighting me,” he says. “I don’t want to end up… being cruel to my sister.”

“She’s one of the best kids I’ve tutored, honestly. You don’t have to be so hard on her.”

“I do,” Michael responds, his voice tense and impatient.

I want to ask why, but there seems to be an unspoken code in Michael’s mafia world about what you do and don’t talk about. We can’t talk about why Cosima acts out. We can’t talk about where his father spends all his time and how I’ve never once heard Cosima tell a story about interacting with him.

I just teach the kid, cash my paycheck, and leave.

Michael doesn’t allow us to linger on the subject of Cosima’s behavior.

He points to the stone path that leads to the guest house.

I doubt I’ll be able to climb the whole way up without huffing and puffing, but I smile and try my best to keep up with Michael as he takes large strides with his impossibly long legs towards the guest house.

What am I doing out here with this man? I should be coming up with a lesson plan for Cosima, not letting my boss’s son distract me with a nature walk.

Michael asks if I’ve ever had “Pink Lady Apples” about halfway up the path and when I respond that I haven’t, he fills me in on details I never wanted to know about apples, cider, and the business potential they both have.

I’m just surprised he can hold a conversation about something other than sports.

He doesn’t come across as completely stupid and when he notices me huffing on the way up the path, he stops and turns my gaze out to the rolling green hills in our patch of Western, NY.

The orchard down below glows in the yellow-orange sunset.

It’s hard to believe there are places on earth prettier or more peaceful than this.

“We’re almost there,” Michael says encouragingly. “Come on, Myra.”

Myra. It shouldn’t surprise me that he knows my name, but Michael hasn’t ever used it before to address me directly.

He definitely hasn’t used a tone before that sounds gentle and kind.

This is new. I stand next to Michael as he looks out over the rolling hills and throws his large, muscular arm over my shoulder.

My chest flutters. He’s touching me again and this time, it’s strangely casual, like we’re friends, but so out of place given Michael’s typical behavior that it’s hard not to feel like it’s something so much more. He can’t like me.

“What do you think?” he asks. His voice sounds so low and sexy that I would jump off the edge if he asked me to. It’s a crazy thought, but in that moment, his voice sounds so unbelievably hot that I’m fully underneath Michael’s spell.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“It’s beautiful,” I half-stammer and half-gasp. I still can’t breathe properly, and Michael isn’t even out of breath. His arm draws me closer to his chest. Michael smells incredible.

“Look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s at my eye level. “See that little speck out there? That’s Cosima riding back.”

“Is that all your property?”

“Yes,” Michael says, his posture suddenly stiffening as he rises back to his full height. I look up at him curiously, but I don’t have the courage to ask if anything’s wrong. This house is filled with secrets that I’ll never uncover – and I’m not sure if I want to.

He glances down at me and scowls. He hates exposing even the slightest bit of vulnerability to me, but I can’t bring myself to look away from him.

“Michael.”

“Don’t say anything,” he says.

Then he puts his hand on my cheek and pulls me closer to him.

It’s going to happen. It’s really going to happen.

Michael kisses me. I’m twenty-six years old and the first kiss of my life is under the most confusing circumstances I’ve ever been in.

Why is Michael kissing me? I let him, even if I don’t know what to do or if I even want to kiss him back.

He pulls away from me, his face relaxed in total satisfaction, as if he ripped the band-aid off a painful scar.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he says. Michael’s hand is still on my cheek and I’m frozen in place, too scared to move.

All I can muster up is one stupid question. “Why?”

Michael chuckles. “Is there ever a reason?”

He grabs my cheeks again and kisses me. Our mouths collide and at first, it’s just a mess while we hold each other and tease each other’s lips apart.

The urgency in the way he kisses surprises me and both our lips get so fucking wet as we desperately close the gap between our bodies.

Michael’s tongue slides into my mouth and I’m almost too out of breath, but I don’t stop kissing him.

I fumble with his shirt until my hand finds the firmest part of his chest, which only makes me want to kiss him harder.

This man is so fucking sexy and I don’t want to admit to myself this intense rush is better than anything I could have ever hoped for my first kiss.

Michael slows down to catch his breath, but our lips don’t stay apart for longer than a few seconds as we gasp desperately for air before returning to a deep, messy makeout.

I still can’t believe it’s happening and I’m painfully awkward again as Michael controls the pace of kissing me, sliding his tongue into my mouth for a slower, deeper makeout session.

I’ve never made out with anyone before. I almost don’t know what to do, but I have a mixture of movies and instincts pushing me forward, despite being out of breath.

I guess I don’t need experience for a steamy kiss to feel like heaven.

The euphoric feeling spreads through me and makes me forget all my problems unlike any other distraction.

The longer Michael kisses me, the less I want him to stop. It helps that he looks like that. He’s six-foot-five. Sandy, long hair. Blue eyes. When he’s kissing me, I can forget that Michael is a complete asshole. His hand moves slowly to my hips as he kisses me and guides me further up the path.

Blindly, I move my body with his, my attention focused on Michael’s lips. He makes a low growl deep in his throat and presses his hips against my body as he pushes me up against the wall. I feel a hard bulge throbbing in the front of his pants and freeze in terror.

This is my first kiss. I’ve never had sex before.

I can’t give it up to my boss’s son outside a guest house, spreading my cheeks to the atmosphere.

I’m nervous, but the nerves just mix with excitement and I let out a lusty moan as Michael drops his lips to my neck and sucks on my flesh. Fuck… Why does that feel so good?

He pulls away after I moan and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to eat your pussy, Teacher Myra… Don’t worry, no one will find us here…”

My body freezes and my skin tingles all over.

Eat my pussy. I’ve never been with a guy before and now the first one I kiss wants to get on his knees for me.

We’re not in a relationship. There’s nothing going on between us, but Michael somehow feels so attracted to me that he wants to put his tongue between my legs.

Instinctively, my thighs glue together.