Page 66 of Mafia Obsession

The kiss is feral and unrelenting. I’m terrified of how intense he is.

He holds me against him as he drinks me in. Groans of pleasure vibrate out of his throat with each breath.

Holy crap.

This is the most erotic kiss I’ve ever had in my life. I’m left breathless and weak.

Ares breaks the kiss and backs away, his chest heaving, his length visibly throbbing. “I need to stop, or you’re going to get fucked right here on my floor.”

The stark and vivid warning has me backing away. Not because I don’t want to get fucked on the floor. It’s too soon.

“I need to shower.” He smiles and drops his linen pants, a pair of black briefs going with it.

Seeing his massive cock again makes me shiver like the first time. This time it springs wetness between my thighs.

“Enjoy your shower, Ares,” I say, retreating.

“I will.” He turns, and the view of his ass in those briefs is almost as good as the front.

Almost…

My throat tightens at how he’ll ruin me with that python between his legs.

And then he’ll move on.

Chapter 23

Lourdes

With Ares taking a shower, I quickly change into a loose linen dress and pile my hair on top of my head. I need to get the hell out of this bedroom.

Not sure where to go, I take the steps back to the main floor. It’s not open. There are narrow hallways in every direction, like a spoke wheel. With the sun shining in so many directions, my black heart wanders down the only dark hallway.

At the end of a quiet corridor, a multi-panel door is unlocked, so I go inside. With a large desk facing the sea, the room is flooded with sunlight from tall windows along the back wall. I glance out to see luxury yachts and a multitude of sailboats in the distance bobbing in the sea.

The rest of the house feels curated, staged for beauty, but this room feels different.

It’s not overly decorative but looks used. This feels like a small sanctuary that belongs to Ares rather than one designed to impress guests.

A set of whitewashed shelves with books sits on one side. Framed photographs in black and silver completely cover the opposite wall. They aren’t arranged for aesthetics, it’s chaos. It’s like a game for a stranger to figure out the Zervas family line.

A woman with Ares’s round gray-violet eyes appears in some of these. But she’s with a different man in most. I find Ares in other photos, younger but already severe.

I spot a photo of him and a man with the same tawny skin and dark hair in other photos, standing side-by-side. The other man is the same height. Same shoulders. Same severe jaw. But the other man is smiling widely with an arm slung around Ares’s shoulders.

Not surprisingly, he doesn’t look too happy about it. That gives me a small chuckle.

“You found my study.” Ares’s voice makes me jump eventhough he sounds calm.

He’s standing just inside the doorway. Hair wet and slicked back, he’s now dressed in a cream-color shirt with sleeves rolled to his forearms. He changed into black linen shorts and leather sandals.

“Who is this other man?” I ask, pointing.

“That’s Alexander. My older brother,” he replies casually.

The word older settles heavily, and I take note of Alexander’s posture. The warmth in his eyes that Ares finds impossible to fake.

“You don’t smile like him,” I remark and look up at him.