Page 34 of Sins of Arrogance (Syndicate Sins #1)

KARA

I can't help it that I keep smiling after finding out that Mick stood Dierdre up for lunch.

And I turn that smile on my husband when he comes into the bedroom where I'm getting ready for dinner.

There are stress lines around his usually stoic eyes.

Rather than put my earrings on, I drop them on the vanity and cross the room to my husband.

Laying my hand against the hard planes of his chest, I look up at him. "Everything alright?"

Rather than answer, he pulls me into a breath stealing kiss.

I'm seriously considering asking Hope to keep Fitz and skipping dinner when Mick pulls away.

"Better now." He gives me one of his genuine smiles.

My heart stutters in my chest. "I'm sorry you had a hard day."

"Not too hard. I might have found a new recruit." His grin turns feral.

Why does his mobster side turn me on every bit as much as his passionate one?

I don't bother asking for details I know I won't get. Instead, I find myself asking, "Want to skip dinner?"

Mick jerks in surprise. "You know we can't do that."

"No, I don't know that." I'm startled too, by my willingness to break the rules, but I want to break them this once.

A lot.

"Don't tease me, wife," he growls, still not taking me seriously.

Remembering what Róise said about Mick earning the right to stand beside me, I give him the chance to. "I'm not teasing. We're not children. We don't have to go to family dinner if we have more important things to do."

Like make love.

Mick's eyes narrow. "Speaking of children, what about Fitz?"

"He's with Enoch and Hope."

"You trust her to watch him now?" Mick pulls his tactical shirt off over his head.

My mouth goes dry like it always does at the sight of his tattoo covered muscles. Right now, I just want to lick every single black line inked into his skin.

"Yes." Mostly. "He has his bodyguards watching him."

"He always has."

I nod. "But now I know it."

"Will that make it easier for you to let him out of your sight?"

I give a self-deprecating laugh. "I've been kind of a helicopter parent since Róise's kidnapping, haven't I?"

"You're a caring mam, Kara. Our son is lucky to have you."

"You're a pretty great dad, yourself."

Mick nods in easy agreement, no shortage of mobster arrogance in my husband.

My thoughts about his arrogance and everything else scatter as he undoes his black cargo pants and shoves them along with his silk knit boxers down his hips.

Some days, my husband goes to work in a tailored suit and tie. Others he wears an outfit like this one. I asked once why the different clothes, but he told me it wasn't something for me to worry about.

Since he's come home with blood on his shirts as often as when he was wearing a suit as not, I don't take the tactical gear as an indicator it was any more of a dangerous day than normal.

He's a mob underboss. His whole life is dangerous.

The danger of his job is the least thing on my mind when his heavy erection bobs in front of me.

My mouth waters. I know what I want, but I've never done it.

He's never asked for it. Not even when we couldn't engage in intercourse.

I want to suck him.

But I'm afraid of doing it wrong, so I reach out to grasp him with my hand. Hot velvet covered steel fills my palm and my knees go weak.

Mick grabs me and backs me toward the bed. It's like he knows what my body is going to do before I do.

My knees hit the edge of the bed and Mick is already pressing me down onto it, his body a wall of heat and muscle above me.

I'm still dressed. Not for long though.

"Off," he grits.

I have to let go of his hardon so I can lift my arms. He rips the halter top over my head and flings it across the room, his pupils dilating at the sight of my breasts.

"Such gorgeous baps." He cups them and squeezes, thumbs flicking my nipples until they ache with engorged blood.

I cling to his straining biceps, my breaths coming in short pants and cant my hips upward.

But my palazzo pants are in the way and I whine with frustration. He rips them from my body along with my panties, every movement filled with impatient power.

I’m so wet I can feel my arousal slipping down toward my bottom. More like soaked and he hasn’t even touched me there yet.

"Feckin' hell, Kara." His voice is a rasp at my ear as the head of his erection presses against the opening to my body. "You feel that?"

"Yes!" It’s all I feel.

And when he pushes inside me in one sharp, glorious thrust, I cry out, my fingers fisting the comforter.

He’s thick and deep and he doesn’t give me time to catch my breath or get my bearings.

He just pistons into me.

Fast. Deep. Hard.

My body responds.

Instantly. Ravenously. Wonderfully.

Every muscle tightens, a string pulled taut, the tension building so fast my vision goes white at the edges.

This shouldn’t be happening so fast. It shouldn’t feel this good this quickly. But it always does with him.

I try to say his name, but it comes out a sob.

"Come for me," he growls against my lips. "Now."

The command undoes me.

I break and arch into him as the orgasm crashes through me sharp, sudden, and overwhelming.

Trembling around him, my body convulses with a force that shatters me into pieces only he can put back together.

Like he has so many times before.

Mick groans and drives in deep, once, twice…

And then he follows, hips jerking as he spills inside me, his big body going rigid with his climax.

For a long moment, we stay like that.

His breath is ragged in my ear. Mine is caught somewhere in my chest.

My body is still clenching around him, the aftershocks dragging out like echoes in a canyon.

When he finally pulls out and collapses beside me, I just stare at him wide-eyed, chest heaving.

"Well," I breathe. "That was…"

"Yeah," Mick mutters, draping an arm over his eyes. "Fast."

"It’s not the first time." So, why does it surprise me nearly every time the flames burn so hot and fast between us?

You'd think after seven years, I'd be used it.

I'm so not.

"No." He turns his head, looking at me. There’s a lazy, satisfied smile on his face.

"Still think we should’ve gone to dinner?" I murmur.

His body tenses and then he leaps to his feet. "Feckin' hell! Dinner."

"Come on, Mick. It's okay if we miss one family dinner." I'm usually the one who worries about meeting family expectations, but right now?

I just want to lay here and bask.

"It's not that. I had to cancel lunch with Dierdre today, so I'm taking her to dinner."

Every atom of pleasurable contentment disappears from my body faster than it came, the heat still warming my insides turning to ice.

I sit up. "You're taking Dierdre to dinner?" I demand. "After that?"

"One has nothing to do with the other. I told you. I've got business with Dierdre."

"Business more important than making love to your wife?" The words hurt coming out of my mouth, but I want an answer.

"We already had sex, mo chuisle ."

"You're saying once was enough for you?" It never is.

Why this time?

"I'm saying I have to go. Listen, you stay here and rest. I'll make sure Hope keeps Fitz until bedtime."

"Don't do me any favors." Feeling raw and too vulnerable in my nudity, I stand up and put on my robe.

But when I turn around to face him, Mick's not listening. He's not even there.

He's already in the bathroom, the sound of the shower running through the open door making it clear he has no intention of being late for his dinner with Dierdre.