Page 30 of The Underboss’s Secret Twins (Underworld Heirs #2)

"Fuck," I snarl, my fingers gripping the sheets so I don’t flip us over and pound into her the way I need to.

She sees it. And she smirks.

"You’re holding back." Her voice is pure heat, breathy and teasing as she grinds deeper, rolling her hips just right, hitting all the perfect places, watching me fall apart beneath her.

"You think I won’t break you?" I rasp, teetering on the edge of losing every shred of control I have left.

"I think you already are."

Then she leans down, takes my mouth in a hungry kiss, biting my lower lip as she slams down onto me over and over and over?—

Until I know I need her under me.

I flip us so fast she gasps, her back hitting the mattress before she can process it, before she can fight it.

Her eyes go wide, her breath catches?—

Then she grins, wrapping her legs around my waist.

"Finally," she breathes, taunting me, pushing me.

I growl, fisting her hair, pinning her down, my hand gripping her throat just enough to make her feel it.

"You wanted to be fucked?" I hiss, grinding into her deep, unrelenting, holding her open. "You wanted me to take control?"

Her moan is a plea, her body arching, offering, begging.

I don’t make her wait.

I slam into her, hard, relentless, brutal.

Her head tips back, a scream ripping from her throat, her body taking everything I give her.

I fuck her like I’m possessed. I grip her thighs, spreading them wider, making her take me deeper, harder, faster, each thrust hitting home, claiming, consuming.

Her moans turn desperate, her nails dragging down my back, her body shuddering, tightening, wrecking itself for me.

"You’re gonna come for me again," I demand, my voice pure gravel, pure need. "And you’re gonna do it while looking me in the fucking eyes."

She tries. But when I reach between us, my fingers circling her swollen, slick clit, she breaks completely.

Her body locks up, her legs shaking, trembling, pulling me deeper as she falls apart beneath me, coming hard, screaming my name like a prayer.

The sound of it, the feel of it, the way she pulses and tightens around me, pulling me with her?—

It destroys me.

With a snarl, I drive into her one last time, my body tensing, my breath snapping, and then I’m coming deep inside her, holding her down, grinding against her as I spill into her, as I let myself fucking go.

Our bodies are slick, chests rising and falling in sync, the only sound in the room our labored, uneven breaths.

My forehead presses against hers, my lips dragging over her jaw, her cheek, her mouth, soft now, slow.

And when I finally pull back—when I see the way she’s looking at me, the raw, unspoken truth burning in her gaze?—

I know we’re in way too deep.

"What are you thinking?" she asks sleepily.

I chuckle. "I’m thinking you should sleep."

She mumbles a protest, but moments later, slumber pulls her in deep. Sofia sleeps like she does everything else—stubbornly.

Even now, tangled in my sheets, bare beneath them, her brow furrows like she’s fighting something in her dreams. I trail my fingers down her spine, slow and deliberate, watching as she shivers, softening under my touch even in sleep.

As I watch her chest rise and fall, something in my gut tightens.

I should be satisfied. I should close my eyes and let myself sink into the peace of having her here, warm against me, her scent all over me.

But I can’t.

Because something isn’t right.

Because Sofia is hiding something.

I knew it the moment she came back from the city today—her shoulders too stiff, her smile too forced. I knew it when she refused to meet my eyes for longer than a second, when her hands trembled slightly as she set her purse down.

And I knew it when I kissed her, when I pressed my body against hers and felt the way she responded—like she needed to drown something out.

Like she needed me to distract her.

I press a slow kiss to her temple before carefully sliding out of bed, my movements silent, practiced. She doesn’t stir, lost in whatever dreams she’s fighting.

My eyes flick to her phone on the nightstand.

I pick it up, turning it over in my palm, my decision already made.

I don’t want to do this. But I have to.

Mancini is still out there, and until I eliminate him, I can’t afford any surprises. Not with my family at risk. Not with Sofia—so fucking reckless, so stubborn—thinking she can handle things on her own.

She’ll fight me if she finds out. She’ll hate me for it.

But I’d rather have her hate me and be alive than keep her trust and lose her.

It takes me less than two minutes—too easy, really, since Sofia refuses to put a lock on her phone. I shake my head; she calls it inconvenient, but all I see is recklessness.

A simple tracking app. Discreet. Undetectable.

A necessary precaution.

I set her phone back down exactly where it was, my gaze lingering on her as I sink back onto the bed, pulling her against me again.

She exhales softly, instinctively tucking herself into my chest.

I wrap my arms around her.

Hold her close.

And as I breathe her in, as I feel the steady thrum of her heartbeat against mine, I know one thing for certain.

Nothing will stop me from keeping her safe.