Page 60 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

“It was hot. But you are, too.” I grin and give her ass a smack.

She yelps and it’s almost relaxed. Comfortable. Sure, there are people jerking themselves off there, using our sex fest as inspiration for their own orgasm chases.

But aside from that, we were completely connected and in sync. No animosity. No biting words. Just lust and passion and hunger.

I hang on to the sensations coursing through me as we clean up, redress, and walk out of the playroom. Livvie snuggles against me, and we walk to the back entrance, talking low and laughing like…

Shit. An actual married couple.

Who the fuck would have ever guessed it?

We exit the club and the driver is outside the truck. He nods at us and opens the back door. Livvie sways a little when she stepsonto the running board. I hold her steady and nuzzle her ear.

“Did I fuck you so hard that I threw off your equilibrium?” I murmur.

She giggles breathlessly. “I think you did.”

I’m so focused on the way her eyes glitter and her cheeks glow that I don’t notice the car pulling up behind us. I barely hear the driver yell my name.

And I don’t feel any pain until the crack of bullets tears through me and sends my body crashing to the ground.

19

LIVVIE

A loud bang carries in the air. I’d recognize the sound of gunfire anywhere.

Beside me, Kingston jerks, his body shielding mine on instinct even as he staggers.

His other arm lashes out, curling around my waist to manhandle me behind him.

“Get down,” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice gravel and steel.

I drop low, pivot fast, adrenaline flooding my system. On my hunkers, I scan the shadows for a shooter.

There’s yelling and another bullet is fired, clipping the bulletproof window.

My gaze snaps up to Kingston, finding his handgun raised and a hand pressed to his shoulder, blood seeping into the fibers of his shirt.

“Kingston—”

Without waiting, I get to my feet, angle him around, and push hard against his good side, forcing him into the backseat. Using my whole body, I drive him inside as another shot comes a whisper too close.

“Go!” I yell at the driver as I slam the door. “He’s been shot. Take us to the hospital. Move!”

Another shot pings against the truck as the driver tears into the street.

Inside the car, Kingston slumps against the leather, his breathing shallow and his gaze on me, trailing across my chest.

“You okay?” he grits out, voice low and strangled.

“Yeah… fine,” I lie, my hands slick with his blood. “Fuck—it’s pouring outta ya.”

Kingston winces as he drops his gun and fumbles inside his jacket. I grab his shoulder instinctively, trying to steady him, but he grits his teeth and powers through.

“It’ll be fine,” he mutters.

“Stop moving?—”