Page 17 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

So why am I so attracted to this one? It’s like my body hasn’t gotten the memo that no Murphy is a good Murphy.

But still I shiver and ache, and when he turns me so my back’s against the wall and his body is against mine, I melt into him like he’s the flame I crave.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as he nudges my face up.

“Experimenting.”

And his lips brush against mine in a soft kiss. One that implodes inside me, sending shards of desire everywhere.

I can’t help it. I kiss him back, a hunger rumbling through me even as he keeps the kiss soft and light. It’s still completely devastating.

I drag his lower lip through my teeth, capturing it and running my tongue over the soft surface, and I wonder what it’d be like to kiss my way down his tall, muscular body, to take him in my mouth, my pussy, my ass. Sex has been a useful tool when I’ve needed it, but for the first time I want it for the sake of exploration. I want to lose myself in him and experience the kind of pure pleasure I know he could give me.

His gun hits the wall as he takes hold of my head, his other hand threading through my hair.

This time when he kisses me, there’s nothing soft about it. Lust and blood and bone-scraping need. It’s sex on drugs, and I can’t get enough as our mouths crash together, tongues in a dueling dance.

It’s white-hot. My clit throbs. He’s hard, grinding against me. This isn’t smooth and seductive anymore. It’s the devastation of a natural disaster at its peak, rolling through me, riling, smashing, and turning things inside out.

He has me shaking and shuddering with need. I want to climb him and ride him until my mind blacks out.

He finally breaks the kiss, leaving us both gasping. I’m so disgusted with myself, even as I ache for more from him.

I… I don’t know what to do.

There’s a knife in my bag. I grabbed it in case I got in trouble.

What is this if not trouble?

I could get it and gut him and…

Shit. I want to fuck him, though.

A Murphy. Christ… What’s wrong with me?

“Why did you steal the jewels? Why did you climb out a window and then sneak back in when you claim you know Iosif Romanov?” He comes back in, kisses my throat, his tongue running over the nick on my neck, and I swear a tiny spasm like pleasure pummels me. “What does he have over you?”

“None of your business.”

But he pulls me right into him once more and with lips moving against my ear, he says, “You made it my business when you ran. When you bit me. When you called for help like you knew those men. You made everything my business. And I saved you back there, so yeah, my fucking business.”

I wobble and shove him away. “I didn’t know those guys. I just wanted you gone. And I still do.”

“You’re stuck with me. You and I are going to talk. Consider the experiment over.”

He clamps his hand, the one without the gun, on my wrist and he pulls me forward until we hit a metal door. This one has a bolt that he throws open, and we step outside into an alley.

He drags me to the edge of the alley. “Talk.”

But he’s not too smart because now we’re close to where people are walking by and he has to put away his gun.

And the second he’s distracted, I run.

Again.

It’s not much of a head start, so I run hard, lungs burning, bumping into people who yell obscenities at me. I pause long enough to glance over my shoulder as I dart across the road, coming way too close to getting hit by a passing car.

He’s walking at a brisk pace. Headed for me. Cars hit the brakes for him, and I turn a corner and press myself into a wall, but he doesn’t appear. Adrenaline floods my veins and heat radiates off me as my side cramps from all the running.