Page 8 of Falling for the Mafia Dom
“There are a lot of men in and out of here,” my eyes scan over her body as she hops from the counter and pulls the T-shirt down to ensure she is covered, “And they don’t need to see you like this. Understood?”
“Yes, Si– Sal,” her tone still harboring embarrassment as she scurries out of the kitchen.
ChapterSix
ELLIE
Holy hell.
That did not just happen.
“Hi, hot as hell Mafia daddy,” I mumble to myself as I shut the door to my suite, “I’m Ellie. I’m an awkward, clumsy mess and your new roommate. Oh, and thanks for cleaning my mess and my legs.”
Oh my god!
A knock on the door disrupts my impending mental spiral.
“Ellie?” A deep voice calls from the other side as I walk toward it.
Placing my hand on the knob, I hesitate for a moment when I realize the voice on the other side of the door is Sal. Slowly turning the knob, I crack the door open while ensuring to keep my body behind it.
He has seen enough of my legs today.
“You forgot your cup of coffee,” Sal slowly moves the cup toward the crack in the door and I open it wider.
“You didn’t have to.”
“And I don’t want you to be embarrassed. You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” his eyes scan over my body, “But my men most definitely don’t need to see you like this.”
You shouldn’t see me like this!
Taking the cup from him, his fingers linger against mine and I can feel a tingle of static sparks between us.
“Thank you,” I pull the cup from him and step back from the doorway. Taking a sip of the black coffee, I try to hide the grimace on my face at the bitterness.
“Cream and sugar?” The corner of his mouth lift as though he almost smiles.
“No. No. This is great. Thank you,” I lie. I will not be drinking this considerate delivery.
“You’re welcome,” he reaches for the cup and his fingers slide softly over mine again, “I’ll take it back downstairs for you. Maybe tomorrow’s coffee will go a little better.”
Sal begins walking down the hallway toward the stairs, and I slowly push the bedroom door shut. It clicks and my hand lingers on the knob.
No. Don’t.
Tossing myself onto the bed, I can almost feel his large hands brushing over my skin. Closing my eyes, a tremble runs down my spine as I think about the kitchen.
His arms snaking around my body as mine wrap around his neck.
Him effortlessly lifting me up into his chest.
My breaths becoming shorter and shallower, I can almost smell his lingering woodsy, tobacco scent.
Breathing him in, my legs wrap around his waist.
His hands kneading at my back and lips traveling the length of my neck, he carries me across the kitchen before placing me on the counter.
Watching intently as his fingertips gather the bottom of my shirt into his hands, I lift my arms as he slowly pulls it over my head.
