Page 3 of The One Night Match (Mafia Matchmaker #1)

THREE

RILEY

T he alcohol has made me much more confident than normal.

I’ve never been much of a drinker, but I can hold my alcohol better than most women my size, which means I’m less susceptible to hangovers.

Thank the lord.

Because I don’t think I’d be able to drag myself down the aisle tomorrow if I felt like death warmed up.

The tattooed mystery man I’m dragging toward the dance floor doesn’t show as much resistance as I expect him to, and before I know it, we’re in the center of the writhing bodies, dancing to a song I’ve never heard in my life.

My music taste is basically the opposite of what is usually played in clubs, but with the alcohol warming me from the inside out, and a sinfully hot man to dance with, I couldn’t care less.

I downed what was left of my drink on my way to the dance floor, and when his hands grasp my hips, tugging me against his body, I realize he must have done the same.

He’s all muscle beneath the black suit, and I can’t help but lean into his hardness. God, a man like this would ruin me, and I bet every cent of my trust fund that I would love every second.

Our bodies move in time with the music, and every now and then, his fingers flex on my hips, dragging my too-short skirt up another inch.

“I’m not usually the possessive type, Kitten, but every time I spot another man looking your way, I get the urge to tear his eyes from their sockets,” he rasps against the shell of my ear, and an involuntary shiver moves through my body.

The pet name should piss me off. I know that. But for some reason, the word on his lips is like a live wire straight to my core.

I don’t need to know this man’s name to know he’s dangerous, and yet that danger calls to me like a moth to a flame.

Despite growing up as a Mafia princess, I’ve always tried to stay away from things that hurt me. It was drilled into me all my life that I needed to always be on high alert because the moment I let my guard down, someone could take me. Someone could use me as a pawn against the family.

Never mind that the people who were supposed to keep me safe were often the same ones I needed protection from.

His lips press to the side of my throat, pulling my attention from my thoughts and dragging a soft moan from my lips.

Fuck.

I can’t think straight when he’s touching me.

His touch is rough and possessive as he positions me where he wants me. His hardness presses against my ass, and despite knowing I’m playing with fire, I grind against him, eliciting a rough groan from the man I never bothered to ask the name of.

“Careful, Kitten,” he warns.

“Or what?” I smirk, resting my head against his chest as my hips sway to the beat.

“Keep rubbing your perfect ass on me like that and I’ll make you take care of the problem you’re creating.”

I smile. There may be people all around us, but right now it feels like he and I are the only two people in the world. “Maybe I would like that.”

Every move I’ve made tonight is out of character for me, but none more than baiting a man who could likely snap me in two if he put his mind to it.

I know better than to flirt with danger, and yet here I am. Tempting a man who looks as if he’d smile as he killed someone.

The stranger bites down on the sensitive piece of skin beneath my ear, and I hiss out a breath as heat floods my core.

Holy sweet Jesus, this man.

I press my thighs together, hoping it will ease the ache, but somehow it only makes it worse.

“Is your pretty pussy wet for me, Kitten?” he breathes against my ear, grinding his hardness against me. God, he feels huge. Like, break me in half kind of huge.

And that’s with at least three layers of clothing between us.

I’m not the most experienced woman in the world.

Yes, I’ve had sex.

Yes, I’ve fooled around.

But not in years, and not with anyone who looks like he could make me come just by thinking about it.

And never with the intention of just one night.

My friends used to say I was a relationship girl, but they couldn’t have been more wrong, seeing as I’ve never been in one. Not a real one, at least.

“Do you feel how hard you have me? My cock feels like it’s about to tear its way out of my pants, all because your tight little ass is grinding all over him.”

I bite down on my lower lip to stop myself from moaning, but it’s no use. This man, this stranger, has me so worked up I can barely breathe, let alone control my reactions to him and his filthy mouth.

His rough chuckle brushes across my shoulder. Who knew someone’s laugh could be so damn sexy?

I tip my head back, looking up into his dark eyes, and for the first time since we met, I notice the flecks of what almost looks like gold among the darkness.

God, he’s so pretty.

Or maybe that’s not the right word for the heavily tattooed god holding onto me with a bruising grip. But he is, okay?

I can’t explain it.

He lifts one of his hands from my hip and wraps it around my throat, angling my face where he wants it.

His eyes flick to mine for a moment, giving me a chance to say no, before his lips crash down on mine in a teasing caress.

Our hips still sway from side to side, but we’re barely moving compared to everyone around us. And yet, it’s like none of them even exist as his tongue traces the seam of my lips, demanding entry that I grant him without hesitation.

Honestly, who the hell wouldn’t?

This is the first and last time I’ve ever kissed someone I didn’t know. Well, I guess tomorrow I’ll do the same, except instead of the hottest kiss of my life, it’ll be to seal a marriage I have no interest in.

The hand around my throat tightens, and my entire body trembles beneath the show of dominance.

Yep. He could definitely ruin me. I just don’t think I care.

“You’re driving me insane, Kitten,” he murmurs between kisses.

“The feeling is mutual,” I moan, unable to tamp the desire he’s pulled to the surface.

He considers me for a moment, his eyes locked with mine with an intensity that makes it difficult to remember to breathe.

“Come home with me,” he says.

“I can’t.” God, I wish I could. But I can’t risk missing meeting Mom and my sisters at the church.

“Can’t or won’t?” he challenges.

“Can’t.”

He stares down at me, and I think he might ask more questions, but instead, he drops his hand from my throat and takes my hand in his much larger one.

Before I have a chance to ask what he’s doing, he drags me through the throes of dancers toward a back hallway I didn’t notice before.

I swallow heavily and tug on his hand.

This is a bad idea. If there’s one thing my father and his men always drilled into me, it’s that going somewhere alone with a strange man is a recipe for disaster.

Even if that strange man is a hot as fuck, tattooed god in a suit.

For all I know, he could be leading me to a dark alley to kill me, and here I am, trailing after him like a lamb being led to her own slaughter.

The music begins to fade the further we get from the main floor, and anxiety claws at my chest.

I guess one way to get out of an arranged marriage to a stranger is to get myself killed.

He squeezes my hand, his brow furrowed as he looks back at me. “You okay?”

“You’re not planning on killing me, right?”

His laugh startles me, his head shaking from side to side. “No, baby. If I were planning on killing you, you’d know about it.”

I don’t get a chance to question whether he’s speaking from experience before I’m tugged through a door and pressed against the wall beside it, his body blanketing mine.

His lips crash down on mine, and the taste of sin and whiskey fills my senses.

I guess if I’m going to die, this is an okay way to go out.