Page 22 of The Mastermind (Mafia Rivals #1)

The ride to the designated floor rushed by far too quickly with each floor sending a louder roar in my ears and sweat to my palms, until I feared I was going to pass out from the surge of adrenaline-fuelled excitement.

The doors swung open.

An impatient Cesare reached in with both hands, wrapped them around my waist and yanked me out. My head spun as he hoisted me high like I weighed nothing and marched down the wide corridor. I was thankful for the dizziness for blurring the faces of the soldiers scattered round the suite.

‘Legs, waist. Now,’ he rasped in my ear.

I’d suspected our text exchange had riled him some, but looking into Cesare’s exceptionally hot face, I saw something else. Feral, uncontrolled hunger. That had nothing to do with the snitch he still hadn’t caught – as far as I knew – and everything to do with me.

The thrill intensified as he stopped in his tracks. ‘Everyone. Get the fuck out!’

The snarl was barely decipherable. But the men and women understood. From the corner of my eye, I saw a massive shadow – Fist – step forward.

‘Boss, maybe you should?—’

‘Now!’

Feet scurried away as we entered the suite proper. And between one breath and the next, the door was kicked shut and my back met a textured wall.

Charcoal-grey eyes framed by lush dark lashes women paid good money for seared me. ‘I believe I gave you an instruction.’

My eyes dropped lower, to the thinner slash of his upper lip and sensuous curve of his lower, inhaling sharply when his grip tightened fractionally around my waist.

‘Do what you’re told and you might be rewarded,’ he murmured, all arrogance and dark, dominant promise so confident of his power.

Entirely justified apparently, because my black palazzo pants-clad legs rose and wrapped around his waist almost of their own volition.

‘Tighter,’ he bit out, his breath washing over my mouth, making it tingle.

I eagerly complied.

He groaned.

I moaned.

And just like that we were back in that dark warehouse in Connecticut, anticipation thick and heavy as he pressed his way deeper between my legs. Rolled his hips and imprinted his thick, engorged cock against my hungry core.

‘Oh God,’ I gasped, my arms flying around his neck, terrified of this intense, long-awaited replay being snatched from me.

He leaned closer, pinning me with more of his hard-packed body. ‘Do you know how fucking insane you’ve driven me with the memory of how you taste, bedda ?’

Unintelligible sounds rattled from my throat, my head heavy with the surge of dizzying desire. It dropped forward, seeking another refresher of his mouth on mine.

But he reared back. ‘Uh huh. Not yet.’

‘Why not?’ I cringed at the faintest whine in my voice. ‘What’s the point of all this if you’re not…?’ I trailed off, my face heating with the need rocking through me.

‘If I’m not going to unwrap you and gorge like a motherfucking Neanderthal the second I have you?’ he finished.

Another moan shivered up my throat. Because that was exactly what I wanted. To be devoured until there was nothing left.

White-hot eyes raked over my face. ‘Because first you’re going to tell me how much you’ve missed me, too.’

Too? Cesare had missed me? If it was true, why was he admitting it? If he was lying… was this a trap? A power play of some sort?

‘Look at you, tearing yourself apart over whether this is some trick,’ he hummed.

I licked my lips as his deliberately hovered closer, teasing me. ‘You would do the same in my shoes.’

His gaze rested at the pulse beating in my throat for several seconds before he shook his head.

‘Nah, baby. There are some things I don’t fight even if it doesn’t make sense.

This’ – he rolled his erection over my ever-dampening sex, the seam of his jeans hitting my clit at the perfect angle and making me shudder against him – ‘I’ve accepted as one of those things. Don’t make me ask again.’

Did I miss him?

Was water wet? Hell, forget water. Did I get wet and achy with need every single time I thought of him? His mouth between my legs, his long clever fingers pushing inside me, stretching me, tormenting me with the prelude of what the massive rod between his legs would do to me?

‘Yes.’ The word shivered from the corner of my soul, a place I’d never cared to examine.

Because every single wish that resided there was forbidden, every yearning an act of treachery.

To my family. To my savage history. To the love for Valentina that Bonafacio swore had been the purest kind.

To all the soldiers who’d died in the avenging of that love.

But watching the transformation that my single admission brought to Cesare’s face, it was almost worth it.

And when he grunted and cursed under his breath, then swooped down to finally capture my lips with his, almost turned into certainty.

His tongue breached my lips like a heat-seeking missile, licking me like I was the ambrosia of eternal life. My hands clawed and clung as tightly as my legs, delirium thickening my blood as the magic of his kiss completely overwhelmed me.

But just when I thought, with shocked surprise, that I could actually come just from being kissed by Cesare, he raised his head. A trail of spit joined our lips and I gasped when he flicked his tongue out and licked it.

Drunk on the decadence of it, I swayed towards his mouth, but he reared back further, denying me.

‘Liv Ivanovski, is he your secret partner?’

My head swam as my body screamed with the deprivation of pleasure. ‘What?’ I asked dazedly.

‘Answer me, Maddelena.’

My eyes widened. ‘I… You can’t… Is this why…?’ His eyes hardening dried up my line of questioning. ‘No,’ I whispered.

‘No he’s not or no you don’t know?’

I scrambled to locate my brain cells. ‘Ivanovski… the Russian head of the Solynik Clan?’

The fingers in my hair tightened, angling my face up to dig into my gaze. ‘You know him? You’ve met with him?’

‘No!’ I shook my head, the need to emphasise my answer pressing down on me.

‘Not personally, but his name has crossed my grandfather’s lips once or twice…

back when you were…’ I frowned, the fog clearing a little more.

‘What do you mean, is he my partner? Is he the one you think is behind what’s happening? ’

His hold tightened another notch, then eased, his fingers massaging my scalp as he maintained the pressure of his gaze. ‘You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, bedda ?’ he queried without answering my question.

‘No, I wouldn’t,’ I breathed. ‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’

‘ Cristu , you really don’t know, do you?’ he muttered, almost to himself.

Almost with relief.