Page 23 of The One Night Match (Mafia Matchmaker #1)

TWENTY-THREE

RILEY

J ust like every morning I’ve woken up here, I wake up burning hot.

Except there’s something different about this morning.

It takes me a few seconds to pry my eyes open, too comfortable to care why today is any different, but as soon as I do, my entire body stiffens.

Because I’m not in my room.

And I’m not in the dress I fell asleep in.

And once again, I’m not alone.

Cruz is pressed against my back, his bare chest radiating heat as the shirt I’m wearing does nothing to protect me from it.

His arms hold me steady against him so tight I think his subconscious is worried about me slipping away.

I take my time perusing the room without moving. The first thing I notice is how dark it is in here. Every surface is black or dark gray, but the way the morning sun hits everything makes it work. It’s not my usual style, but I find that I like it.

The comforter is a dark shade of gray, disrupted only by the little orange body wedged against my stomach, and I realize they have me sandwiched between them.

“Go back to sleep,” Cruz murmurs, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot beneath my ear.

“What am I doing in your bed?”

“Our bed,” he corrects me.

“My bed is down the hallway.”

“Not anymore.”

I frown. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he carefully rolls me under him, making sure not to jostle Mr. Whiskers.

The two of them seem to be bickering less the longer I’m here, which I realize is a weird thing to say about a Mafia boss and a cat, but I’m starting to think maybe I should record the way the two of them argue for social media.

People love shit like that.

It’s me. I’m people.

Cruz’s body presses mine into the mattress, his hips pinning mine in place as he stares down at me with so much heat it takes my breath away.

God, why does he have to be so attractive?

It would have been much easier to resist him if he were an overweight, balding man like most Mafia bosses.

“You have no idea how fucking sexy you look with your hair spread across my pillows,” he murmurs. He dips his head and presses a kiss to my temple, then my cheek, my jaw, and finally the sensitive place on my throat that he found our first night together.

“Yes, I’m sure I’m a real sight with last night’s makeup smeared across my face, morning breath, and bedhead.”

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to reposition himself with his very large erection pressed against my core. “Does it feel like those things don’t turn me the fuck on, Kitten?”

I press my eyes closed and stifle the moan that tries to escape my throat. It’s been almost two weeks since our romp in his office at the club, but the memory of how he stretched me, of the bite of pain as he fucked me against his desk, is just as fresh as it was that night.

He nips at my jaw, setting free the moan I desperately tried to hold at bay. “You can pretend I don’t affect you all you want, Riley, but I can see how badly you want me. I know how badly you want to give in to me, even as your mind tries to deny it.”

“I never said I didn’t want you, Cruz. I’d be surprised if there’s a woman on earth who doesn’t want your dick.

What I said was I didn’t want to be married.

To anyone. Especially in the Mafia.” The words tumble out all at once, without permission, laying out the parts of my hesitation that I haven’t explicitly told him about.

He pulls back far enough for him to stare down at me. “You want out of our marriage because of the Mafia?”

I nod slowly, watching for any signs of anger. “I don’t want to live this life, Cruz. I spent years escaping my own family, only to be signed up for the matchmaker service without my knowledge, and when it came time to fill in the questionnaire, I had no choice, or they would have done it for me.”

We’re in far too compromising a position to be having this conversation, but he makes no move to give me the space my mind desperately needs to cool my body off.

Having Cruz so close is always a test of my restraint, but half-naked in bed with his hardness pressing against my thigh? Yeah, I’m struggling.

He stares down at me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve before a new resolve settles behind his dark eyes. “Tell me what it is about the Mafia that you don’t want any part in.”

It’s not a question. It’s an order, and I’m compelled to tell him the truth. Maybe if I lay it all on the line, he’ll give in and give me what I want. “Can we discuss this without you pinning me to the bed?”

“No, I’m good right where I am.”

I huff out a sigh and drag my eyes off his face, looking across the room to hype myself up for what I’m about to tell him. It took a lot of years and a fuck ton of therapy to get past it, and here I am, preparing to break myself open for a man just as brutal as the one from my nightmares.

No, Cruz is nothing like Jeremy, and I refuse to lump him into the same category, regardless of their similarities from the outside looking in.

“When I was seventeen, I was promised to a man who was set to become boss of the rival family in San Francisco. Jeremy was charming. He said all the right things, his father and Sergio worked on the deal for months, and Jeremy had the choice between me and my sisters. When he chose me, I felt special for the first time in my life. My sisters were always perfect, always chosen above me, and for the first time, I got chosen. I was excited.” I shake my head, my voice even and lacking any emotion despite the riot in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Our wedding was set for the weekend after my eighteenth birthday, but my parents and Sergio decided it would be best if I moved into Jeremy’s house the day after my birthday, so we could get to know one another. ”

“Kitten,” Cruz murmurs, brushing his thumb across my cheek, and it’s only now I realize I’m crying. The memory of this time in my life is dragging all the hurt right back to the surface.

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “It happened a long time ago. I’m over it.”

He looks down at me doubtfully, but he doesn’t argue, his thumb tracing comforting circles, never moving from my face.

“The first couple of nights were okay. We went out to a fancy dinner, and he gave me a kiss good night at my bedroom door the first night, and then the second evening we spent the night in, just getting to know one another.” I swallow heavily.

“But the next morning, everything changed.

It was like a switch had been flipped, like he was a completely different person.

“He tore me out of bed, screaming at me about not being a virgin despite that being promised. I tried to explain that I told his father that when he asked, that I was open and honest all the way along, but he wouldn’t listen.

He just kept hitting me until I was certain I was about to die.

I think a little part of me hoped I would, just so the pain would stop.

” I don’t try to stop the tears anymore, instead letting them fall.

Maybe if Cruz sees how much this life has cost me, he’ll be more likely to let me go.

“He left me there, and I was too scared to move. I was worried that when he came back, it would be worse if I moved from where he left me. But he didn’t come back.

“One of his maids found me and called the family doctor. And when my parents arrived, I thought they would whisk me away immediately, because surely they wouldn’t want someone like that marrying their daughter, but instead they asked what I did to deserve it.

” I laugh bitterly, my chest aching so badly I’m afraid it’ll crack open.

“Jeremy ended up calling off the wedding, saying he wouldn’t marry a whore, and as soon as I healed enough that I could get myself out of bed, I fished my acceptance letter from Yale from where I hid it in the back of one of my drawers, and I moved across the country the next day. ”

I finally focus on his face again, but the last thing I expect is to find pure, unadulterated fury staring back at me.