Page 97 of The Mafia King's Reign
He walks across the room and stands right in front of me. I can see his massive bulge in his pants, and heat floods through me. My fingers find the buttons of his shirt while his hands hover at his sides, letting me work. I abandon the buttons, too slow, and go straight for his belt. The leather slides free. I unzip his pants, and they fall to his feet.
I pause.
“Black socks again?” I look up at him, barely hiding my smile. “You already wear nothing but black suits. Do you have to commit to the theme all the way down to your socks?”
He blinks, thrown off balance. "What other color socks are there? White’s not ideal for my line of work."
"Well, I think they make them in every color of the rainbow."
"For kids," he says, slowing down the unbuttoning of his shirt to flash that devastating smile at me. The real, rare one that transforms his whole face.
I decide to shut him up before he can say anything else.
I sink to my knees and take him into my mouth, and the sound he makes is worth everything.
His hand fists in my hair, not pushing, just holding on. I work him slowly at first, learning what makes his breath catch, what makes his thighs tense, what makes him whisper my name like it's the only word he knows.
"Valentina," His voice is wrecked. "If you keep doing that, bella mia."
I pull back, looking up at him through my lashes. "Keep doing what?"
He hauls me up, crushing his mouth to mine, and then we're falling back onto the bed together. His shirt is still half-buttoned, his black socks still on, and I'm laughing against his lips.
"What's funny?" he demands between kisses.
"Seriously, even your socks have to be black?"
"I will burn every sock I own if you stop talking about them."
"Promise?"
He silences me the only way he knows how, with his mouth, his hands, his body covering mine. And then there's no more room for laughter, only the two of us moving together and our bodies melting into each other so easily that it feels natural.
Later, much later, we're tangled in the sheets, my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my shoulder. The memory of the door closing while we slept in his room intrudes on the moment, and I can't let it go.
"Hey, when we were sleeping, I thought I saw someone close the door and walk out. Did you... was someone supposed to be here?"
He shrugs. "Probably a member of my staff."
"The staff have keys to your room? Overnight?"
"Very few people, but I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
I should be sleepy. Satisfied. Content.
Instead, my mind is already racing.
"Salvatore?"
"Hmm?"
"You said something. Last time. During..." I trail off, suddenly shy.
His hand stills on my shoulder. "What did I say?"
"You know what you said."
I can feel his heartbeat beneath my cheek, steady but slightly faster than before.
