Page 29 of Mafia Pregnancy
“From people who don’t deserve to be dragged into it.”
I take another sip of the tea, rather than a gulp this time, and it’s more pleasantly warm than too hot like the first drink. “Like me?”
He meets my gaze. “Especially you.”
What he’s saying settles between us. He’s acknowledging there’s something between us worth protecting, but it’s also something that puts me—and my children—at risk simply by existing. “I should quit,” I say quietly. “I need to find another job somewhere safer.”
“Is that what you want?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.” The admission surprises me with its honesty. “I know what I should want. I know what would be smart and safe and reasonable.”
“But?”
I break eye contact to look down at the tea in my cup. “When that man grabbed me, when I thought he might hurt me, the only person I wanted to save me was you.” The confession strips away all the pretenses. It’s an admission of trust, dependence, and feelings I’ve been trying to deny for weeks.
“Danielle.” He sets down his glass and moves to kneel in front of my chair, covering my hands with his. “I can’t promise you’ll always be safe if you stay in my world. I can’t promise there won’t be other threats, and other moments of danger.”
I nod. “I know.”
“I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. Everything.”
“Why?” The question comes out as a whisper. “Why would you do that for me?”
Instead of answering with words, he leans forward and kisses me. It’s different from our previous encounters. This time, the kiss is slower, more certain, and filled with something dangerously close to love.
I should pull away. I should remember all the reasons this is complicated and dangerous and wrong. Instead, I kiss him back with desperate hunger, pouring all my fear and relief and unwanted love into the connection between us.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and there’s something wild in his eyes that makes my pulse race for entirely different reasons than fear.
“I shouldn’t want this,” I whisper against his lips. “I shouldn’t want you.”
“But you do.”
“Yes.”
He breathes out harshly. “Then stop fighting it. Stop fighting me.”
He stands to pull me up with him, and I go willingly, letting him lead me toward the massive bed that dominates one side of the room. The storm outside provides a soundtrack of wind and rain, but inside this space, there’s only the two of us and the electricity sparking between us.
He turns me to face him, his hands framing my face with gentle reverence. “Are you sure? After what just happened, if you need time?—”
“I don’t need time. I need you.”
The admission breaks whatever restraint he’s been maintaining. His mouth crashes into mine, hungry and desperate, and I respond with equal ferocity. This isn’t the careful exploration of our previous encounters. This is raw need.
He finds the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. I help him, tugging at his buttons and pushing his shirt open until I can get my hands on the warm skin beneath.
He murmurs against my throat, his lips trailing heat down to my collarbone. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect.”
His words make me bold, but when he reaches for the waistband of my khakis, panic flickers through me as I remember the hair elastic, which was my improvised solution to buttons that won’t close over my changing body.
If he undresses me, he’ll notice, and questions will follow that I don’t want to answer.
I catch his hands and guide them away from my pants. “Let me.”
I work at his belt instead, focusing on his clothes while he unclasps my bra and lets it fall to the floor. When his hands cover my breasts, I arch into his touch with a sound that’s part gasp, part moan.
I reach for my own khakis, turning slightly away as I work the hair elastic free and slide the pants down my legs.
The movement is quick and designed to hide the evidence of my growing belly.
Will he notice it? It’s just a slight thickening of my waist so far.
I pray he thinks I’ve been eating too many tacos or something if he does notice.
“I’ve wanted you,” I confess breathlessly, stepping out of the khakis and turning back to face him, “Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”
He lifts me easily, carrying me the few steps to the bed and laying me down with careful reverence. “If you want me, you should have me.”
He follows me down, pressing me into the mattress as he captures my mouth again. I can taste the whiskey on his lips that blends pleasantly with the tea still in my mouth and notice the tremor in his hands as he touches me.
When he slides my panties down my legs with agonizing slowness, he pauses to look at me in the dim light. His hands skim over my hips and thighs, and I hold my breath. “You’re lusher than I remembered,” he says, his voice rough with appreciation. “Softer. More beautiful.”
The comment sends a spike of fear through me. Does he suspect? Can he tell my body is changing? When I look at his face, I see only desire and reverence, no suspicion or questions.
“Lusher?” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Curves in all the right places.” His hands map my body with gentle exploration. “Perfect.”
Relief floods through me, followed quickly by renewed desire as he settles between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue makes me arch off the bed, a broken cry escaping my lips.
He works me with devastating skill, alternating between broad strokes and targeted pressure until I’m writhing beneath him, my hands fisted in his hair.
When he adds the gentle pressure of his fingers inside me, I come apart completely, crying out his name as pleasure crashes over me.
When I finally come back to myself, he’s kissing his way back up my body, and I taste myself on his lips when he claims my mouth.
I push at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back, then work at the rest of his clothes with hands shaking slightly from aftershocks. When I have him naked beneath me, I take a moment to appreciate the view of lean muscle, hard and ready for me.
I lower my head to take his cock in my mouth, enjoying the way he tangles his hands in my hair, and the harsh sounds he makes as I work him with lips and tongue. When I take him deeper, he grips the sheets with white knuckles.
“Danielle, you’re going to kill me.”
I pull back to look at him, relishing the way his eyes are dark with need. “Good. You deserve it after making me wait so long.”
“Not like this.” He stops me gently. “I want to be inside your pussy.”
The words send fresh heat through my system. He reaches into the nightstand drawer and produces a condom, and I take it from him with hands that are steadier now. It crosses my mind to throw it aside, but that would mean explaining why we don’t need to use it.
I tear open the packet and roll the latex down his length, savoring his breathing deepens at my touch. When I’m finished, he pulls me up for another kiss, then positions me astride him.
I guide the base of his cock with my hand until he penetrates my opening. I sink down onto his cock slowly, gasping at the sensation of being filled completely. We both go still for a moment, adjusting to the connection and the intimacy of being joined like this.
I begin to rock against him, setting a rhythm that has us both gasping. He grips my hips, guiding my movements as I ride him with increasing urgency. The position gives me control, letting me take exactly what I need while watching the effect I have on him.
When he reaches between us to find my clit, I cry out at the added sensation. The combination of being filled by him and the pressure of his fingers pushes me toward another climax embarrassingly quickly.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough with his own approaching release.
The words push me over the edge. I convulse around him, clenching my inner muscles as another orgasm tears through me. The sensation triggers his own release, and he buries his face against my neck as he follows me into oblivion.
We collapse together, breathing hard, with our bodies still joined. For a long moment, there’s only the sound of our recovery and the storm continuing outside.
He murmurs against my hair. “Stay. Don’t leave tonight.”
The request is more tempting than it should be. The idea of sleeping in his arms, of waking up beside him, and pretending for a few hours that this could be simple is enticing, but I can’t. “I can’t stay all night. I have responsibilities.”
His arms tighten around me briefly before he releases me. “Just stay a little longer then, please.”
I settle against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, with the danger, the violence, and all the reasons this is complicated, I feel safer in his arms than I have in months.
We don’t speak for a bit until he says, “I’ll always keep you safe.”
I want to believe him. More than that, I want to let myself love him the way every instinct is telling me to, but there are still secrets between us and complications he doesn’t know about that would change everything.
For now, I let myself pretend love…or whatever this is becoming…might be enough.
I must drift off to sleep, because when I open my eyes, the room is dark except for the glow of the bedside clock showing 11:17 p.m. Radmir is asleep beside me, one arm still wrapped protectively around my waist, his breathing deep and even.
Reality comes crashing back. Leo is at Aunt Molly’s, and I promised to pick him up in the morning early, since it’s her volunteer day at the shelter.
She’ll be worried if I don’t show up, and she’ll ask questions I’m not prepared to answer.
If I don’t get some sleep and a chance to decompress, I’ll never arrive at six-thirty to get him.
Carefully, I slip out of Radmir’s embrace, moving slowly so I don’t wake him. He murmurs something in his sleep but doesn’t stir as I gather my scattered clothes and dress quietly in the darkness.
At the door, I pause to look back at him. Even in sleep, he looks powerful and dangerous, like a predator resting between hunts. There’s also something vulnerable about him that makes my chest ache with feelings I’m not ready to name.
I slip out of his room and make my way through the quiet estate to where I left my car.
The storm has passed, leaving the night clear and cool, with stars visible through the breaking clouds.
The guards don’t blink an eye when they have to let me out through the wrought iron gates that are usually open during the daytime, but I flush with embarrassment.
They must have a good idea why I stayed so late, especially with the estate on alert after events of the afternoon and evening.
As I drive toward Aunt Molly’s house, I try to process everything that’s happened tonight, parsing through the attack and how Radmir protected me without hesitation, followed by the way we came together afterward.
Most of all, I think about his promise to keep me safe. After seeing firsthand the threats in his world, can I really believe he can keep me or Leo safe? I don’t doubt for a minute he’d try, but can I risk taking that chance when I have a little boy and a baby to protect?
For now, that truth remains my secret, but tonight changed something between us in ways for which I’m not sure either of us is prepared.