Page 43 of The Mafia and His Obsession Part 2 (Tainted Hearts 5)

Instantly hit with a warm feeling, I slid closer until the sides of our thighs were touching. I wanted to chase this feeling, grab it, hold it, and savor it.

It was so hard not to touch her when she was this close to me. I could do anything I wanted, and I knew she wouldn’t push me away. I had successfully seduced her mind, and her body was reacting accordingly. I watched her lips part and her chest rise with a shuddering breath.

Her tongue peeked out and she wet her lips before nervously chewing on her bottom one. My gaze found the little smudge of chocolate there, and without thinking…without any consideration…before I could even stop myself, I reached up and touched her.

My tips of my fingers tingled when I met her soft skin, almost like I had been hit with a zing of awareness. Heat traveled through my body, surging me forward. My heart was beating a strange song, irregular.

My thumb brushed the corner of her lips and wiped away the chocolate there. She sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled. Her eyes seemed to be fixated on mine, as if she couldn’t look away. I felt the same way…the same intensity…the same surreal feeling coursed through me.

Valerie was a silent maiden, locked away and trapped in her tower. I was no Prince Charming or hero, but I was irrevocably ensnared by this enchanting beauty. She had no voice, yet she was a siren who was brought here to tempt me.

“Eat,” I pushed, in a deep voice.

Valerie finished her croissant in a few quick bites, but we never took our eyes off each other. I liked to believe that even if we did try, we wouldn’t have been able to.

She was forcing herself not to fidget, not to move…not to show her nervousness, but I could tell what she was feeling by each ragged breath she took.

My fingers twitched with the need to touch her again. I couldn’t seem to stop touching her, and I gave myself all the excuses. This time, I captured a lock of her hair in my hand and curled it around my index finger. Tugging slightly, I brought Valerie’s attention back to me when I noticed her gaze drifting to her lap.

No, silent myshka. I needed your eyes on me. I needed her to see me, all of me…and I wanted her to feel me.

She trembled and I hadn’t even touched her skin. Her eyes came up to me again, and I caught her, trapped her with my unflinching gaze. She seemed to sink into the hollow depths.

When I smiled, satisfied that I had all her attention, I noticed the tiny twitch of her lips. She was fighting a smile of her own.

Beautiful.

“You have beautiful hair,” I whispered. Her hair was a river of golden silk. I loved the feel of it around my finger. I gave the lock of hair a small tug again, and I saw the crimson blush rising up her neck and cheek at my confession.

“My fingers have been itching to touch it, feel it. So silky. So smooth.”

It was thoughtless of me, but I was an impulsive fucker, and now that we had both fallen down the rabbit hole, I couldn’t stop myself. I brought the lock of hair to my nose and inhaled. I smiled at the sweet rose scent. I caught a hint of peaches too.

I smiled at the thought. “It reminds me of sunshine.” And your pussy. But I kept that part to myself.

Still holding her captive, I nodded toward the tray and demanded she finish the rest of her breakfast.

I inhaled. She exhaled.

I exhaled. She inhaled.

It was a dance, two heartbeats breathing in a symphony.

What a weird way to put it, but there was no other way to describe it.

I was no fucking poet, but damn, Valerie had a way of making me want to describe her as a poem. She was silent, but her eyes were loud. She spoke with her touch, and through her gaze, she told a mad tale of forbidden passion. She was silent, living, breathing poetry.

My hands clenched at the thought. What was she doing to me?

I licked and ate her pussy once and here I was, pussy whipped.

I almost laughed at that. Me. Viktor Ivanshov…pussy whipped? I needed someone to punch me.

While she ate, I played with her blonde hair, feeling the silky strands in between my fingers and wanting to memorize her scent.

“Did you sleep well last night?” I asked, smirking at the words.

Did you dream…of me…of us…of my tongue lapping up your pussy?

Her breath stuttered, and I knew what she was thinking. Bingo, baby.

If only she knew…her beautiful, filthy dream was a reality.

But it was safer for her this way, if she didn’t know.

When her breathing stuttered and she blushed deeply, I uttered my own little confession. “I didn’t sleep that well. I was rather…frustrated.”