Page 46 of Texting My Mafia Boss

He grins at me. “I need to stop lifting weights.”

I wouldn’t gothatfar.

He lifts her up and carries her into the house. I carry the lemonade inside. With all the staff gone, it feels quiet, as Sundays always do. I sit in the family room and look at my reflection in the TV’s screen. My hair is straightened, my dress highlighting my curvy figure. I look… beautiful. I don’t normally think things like that. But Ettore is helping with my confidence.

He finds me, still shirtless.

I stand, take a step forward. Stop myself.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“You’re still wearing that dress.”

My skin grows hot at his comment. I roll my eyes, hoping he doesn’t notice. “You know what I mean.”

“Bad men are circling, Mara. I might know who they are. I might not. A conflict might break out; it might not. Welcome to this life.”

He steps forward and pulls me against him, making a gruff, husky sound.

“Livia might walk in.”

“She’s out for the day, and Sylvie is upstairs.”

“What about your guards?”

“They’re on the perimeter. They can’t see in here.”

“Ettore,” I whimper, feeling too comfortable in his arms.

“Tell me why this is wrong,” he groans.

“You’vetold memanytimes,” I point out.

“Yeah, I have, you’re right. I’m a goddamn hypocrite,” he grunts.

He slides his hands down to my hips and lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him instinctively as he carries me to the couch. I glide my hands all over his body, digging my nails into his shoulders. Experiencing a sort of lust I never even dreamed I would.

Our lips are fused the entire time, desperately, greedily kissing each other. Our tongues are messy and loud. He groans through the kiss, moving his firm body up enough to create some space between us. He slides his hand up my leg.

He grips me firmly. Smoothing his hand up my leg, getting closer to the apex of my thighs, inch by inch, sending hot, aching need coursing through me. My underwear grows wet, the fabric sticking to me. He pushes down on my crotch through my underwear, harder than when he was searching me, with purpose now.

I shift my hips against him. As he moves his hand up and down, the doubt fades away. I know this could end poorly. I know I should care more that he’s a mob boss. I know we’re risking it all.

But when he pulls my button loose and moves his hand inside, I honestly can’t think about anything else. Just the feeling of his hand moving lower, over my nub, my folds. He groans and leans back so he can look me in the eyes.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he groans.

I rock my hips against him, chasing the sweet burn. “Yeah?”

“So. Perfect.”

His finger teasing at my entrance, the heel of his hand rubbing against my clit. The combination feeling electrifying.

“I want to watch you,” he groans when I try to kiss him again.

I grab his face in my hands. “Yeah? Well, I want to kiss you.”

I pull him against me, kissing him hard. I feel him smile through the tight press of our lips. His finger pushes against my entrance, spreading me. His finger fills me up, pushing deeper and deeper, his hand grinding against my clit.