Emotions flit over her face, everything from awe to happiness to shyness. The last one is quickly becoming my kryptonite.
“Thank you,” she whispers, then hesitantly pushes onto her tiptoes. Her mouth pauses an inch from mine, and I watch as she rethinks what she’s doing before her lips softly brush against mine.
Holy fuck.
It feels as if the ground shudders beneath my feet as Yuki tentatively begins to kiss me.
I have to fight to hold back so she can have control, but as her sweet mouth nips at mine and her tongue lightly strokes over my bottom lip, I lose the battle.
My arm shoots around her, and hauling her off her feet, I grip her tightly to my chest while I take her in a hungry kiss, the urgency to taste every inch of her mouth too intense to resist.
As the sun sets, I selfishly take my fill of Yuki, and by the time I lift my head, she’s breathless and dazed. Holding onto my shoulders, she presses her face to my neck, and I give her the time she needs to recover.
Her tone is filled with a world of vulnerability as she asks, “Will it feel the same when we consummate our marriage?”
“Having sex is much more intense than sharing a kiss.”
“I think I’ll pass out if it gets any more intense than this.”
I let her body slide down mine until her feet touch the ground, well aware she’s able to feel my hard-on.
I watch her face for her reaction, and as expected, her cheeks turn a deeper pink, and she glances at the shrubs, flowers, and pond.
“Don’t worry about sex.” I brush my hand up and down her arm. “We’ll enjoy the make-out sessions until you’re ready for the next step.”
A cute smile tugs at her lips. “Okay.”
For the past two weeks, we’ve been searching high and fucking low for any lead on who attacked me.
I even called Tanaka and had to listen to him blowing up over the phone, upset that someone would fuck with the treaty.
Right now, work sucks ass, and I live for the nights and weekends I get to spend with Yuki.
I’ve kept my word, but every night when I get to devour her mouth, it takes all my strength not to take things further.
I deserve some kind of award.
The elevator doors open, and when I walk into Georgi’s penthouse, I see everyone’s already here.
Dad notices me first and smiles as I stop beside him. “You look tired. When are you going to take time off?”
“When the problem has been dealt with.”
I take a moment to greet the other men before helping myself to a tumbler of whiskey.
Our fathers started the tradition of having a poker night once a month. No one dares miss it.
Because we’re twelve men in total, we usually split into two groups of six.
Walking to the two round tables Georgi’s set up, Uncle Damiano calls out, “Augusto, you’re next to me tonight.”
Taking the seat, I let out a sigh when Uncle Renzo, my godfather, sits down on my other side.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re both going to grill me tonight?” I ask as I set my tumbler down on the table. When my father, Uncle Angelo, and Uncle Dario join my table, I shake my head. “Oh, come on. We’re supposed to have a relaxing evening.”
I hear Georgi chuckle from the other table and shoot him a glare.
He holds up his hands in the universal sign for peace. “I had no say. What they want, they get.”
