Page 45 of Seized By the Mafia King

Witch. She knows her watching me like that will inevitably make me hard, and now is not the time. I shake the shorts out, but she merely redirects her gaze to the tattoos of our children’s names that curl around my leg, just above my knee.

I give her a warning growl as I lean down and kiss her cheek.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, little bunny,” I rasp into her ear.

“Can’t finishright now,” she corrects me with a naughty smile. I ease down to sit on the towel next to her, then pull her onto my wet lap, and she shrieks.

“Ugh, they’re so gross,” Caroline grumbles, and the other kids agree. Even our youngest taps his spoon in disapproval.

I grin.

“This was your doing, Willow,” I tell my wife, banding my arm around her waist to trap her to me. “You started it.”

“Mmmm.” She wriggles into me, and I hold her tight. “I did, didn’t I?”

She lets out a contented sigh and we watch our kids eating happily on the beach in the sunshine for a second before I reluctantly let go to deal with our food and ensuring Poppy eats more than just chocolate for lunch. But not before I have a thought.

I need to wake earlier in the morning during this trip—before any of the kids—if I want quality time with their mother.