Page 7 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
“Don’t move. I don’t want you to step on something and cut yourself.”
She doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, she stares back at me in silence. Fidgeting, her hands remove the headphones from her ears, and she practically yells, “Huh?”
“I said, don’t move,” I raise my palm toward her, gesturing for her to stop, before pointing toward her feet. “There are shards from the cup all over the floor.”
“Oh fudge,” she looks down at her feet.
“Did you get burned?” I immediately question upon seeing beads of coffee on her legs.
“No. I’m fine,” she stands awkwardly amid the spilled coffee, “You just, um, scared me half to death.”
“My apologies. That was not my intention,” I slowly close the distance between us. Shards from the cup crack beneath the weight of my shoe as I continue to approach her.
“May I?” I extend my hands toward her, gesturing that I intend to pick her up. After hesitating briefly, she slowly nods her head providing me permission to touch her.
The pieces of broken coffee mug continue to crunch beneath my feet as I close the last of space between us. Bending down to her, my hands brush against the fabric of her shirt, and my arms wrap around her tiny body. Tightening my embrace around her, I lift her from the ground as I stand, and her arms instinctively wrap tightly around my neck for additional support.
“I’ve got you,” I surprise myself when I whisper the words against her ear, and she releases the tightness of her hold.
I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but breathe in her scent as I hold her body flush against mine.
Fuck, she smells delicious.
Enjoying the feel of her in my arms and savoring her scent, I carry her further from the mess than I probably need to. When we reach the other side of the island, I lift her higher and set her on the counter.
“Sit here,” the words come out like a command instead of a request. With her feet dangling over the edge, her eyes follow me as I walk to the pantry.
“I can clean up my own mess,” she blurts out with wide eyes, as she begins to push herself from the counter when she sees me returning with the broom and dustpan.
“Sit,” I bark at her, and she stills immediately.
“My apologies,” I ensure to adjust my tone, “I just don’t want you to step on any of this glass. Please, just let me do it.”
Nodding her head she mouths, “Okay.”
Sweeping the sharp, wet shards into a pile, I glance up over the island to find her watching me.
“I…I’m really sorry,” she stammers.
“It’s a cup, sweetheart,” I bend over to push the shards into the dustpan, “Nothing to be sorry about.”
The nervous look on her face has dissipated a little by the time I finish cleaning up the mess. After dropping the remnants of her spill in the trash, I pull a fresh dish towel from the drawer and dampen it under the faucet.
Rounding the island, I step before her and gently take her calf into my hand. My fingers slide down her slightly stubbled, but otherwise soft, legs as I lift her leg to clean it with the damp rag.
“So, Ellie,” I slowly drag the towel from her knee to her toes, repeating the motion until every drop of coffee has been cleaned from her leg, “Are we going to make a habit out of spilling coffee all over the kitchen?”
“N…no…no, Sir,” she stutters.
The way the word sir trembles over her lips…Fuck.
“Sal,” I correct her, “call me Sal.”
“I’m sorry, Sal,” she bashfully looks away as I clean her other leg, “Venecia had said I was here alone until tomorrow, and you truly scared me half to death when I saw you in the doorway.”
“Apologies,” I lower her leg and place the towel on the counter next to her, “I’ll do better not to scare you, if you can ensure you wear a tad more clothing when you walk around here.”
“Oh my god,” her face reddens, “I didn’t even…”
