Page 114 of Mafia Daddy's Christmas Bride

There's something intoxicating about having this powerful, dangerous man vulnerable beneath my touch.

“Fuck… Isabella… I’m going to come.” He attempts to push me away.

“Is that wrong?” Why is he making me stop? Isn’t coming the point?

“It’s messy and… well, you might not like it.”

I ignore his protests. “I won’t know until I try.” I grip him and resume sucking and licking him.

“Oh… Fuck… Yes…” His hips buck up, his hand tightens in my hair, and warmth fills my mouth. I stay with him as he comes, feeling strangely powerful and sexy all at once.

Roman pulls me up his body, his mouth claiming mine in a searing kiss. "My turn," he murmurs against my lips as he rolls me underneath him.

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once, worshiping my body with an intensity that makes me tremble.

This isn't just physical release.

There's something deeper in the way he touches me, the way he watches my face as pleasure courses through me.

He moves down my body, settling between my legs. “Hold on, Isabella, because I’m hungry.”

His mouth devours me. My fingers grip the sheets as his ministrations build exquisite pressure. It isn’t long before I’m writhing and begging for release.

"Roman!" I gasp as waves of sensation crash over me. My body shudders, and he holds me through it, murmuring praise against my skin. When I finally come down, boneless and breathless, he gathers me against his chest.

In this moment, I feel something I never expected. Cherished. Desired. For the first time since this arrangement began, I feel like I belong. Not as an object or pawn, but as a treasure.

I lie in Roman's arms, my breathing finally slowing to match his steady rhythm. The weight of his arm across my waist should feel possessive, another symbol of how my life isn't my own. Instead, it anchors me.

"You okay?" he murmurs.

"Yes," I whisper, surprised to find it's true.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on my bare shoulder, raising goosebumps in their wake. I never imagined finding comfort in the arms of a man I was forced to marry.

A man who kills for a living.

Yet here I am, feeling safer than I have in years.

"What are you thinking about?" Roman asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"How strange life is," I admit. "A month ago, I thought I knew exactly who you were. What you were."

"And now?"

I trace the scar on his chest, considering. "Now I know you're more complicated than that. I suppose we all are."

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“It is. I just never thought I'd feel this way," I confess in a moment when I somehow feel okay with being vulnerable. "Safe. Content."

His arm tightens around me. "You are safe with me."

I believe him. Despite everything, I believe him.

My eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion claims me, the tension I’d been feeling for so long melting away in the warmth of his embrace.

As sleep pulls me under, I wonder at the strange turns my life has taken.