Ivan dropped to his knees, and while holding the weapons, he wrapped his arms around my body and crushed his lips to mine.
The moment his lips touched mine, time itself seemed to shatter, scattering in fragments around us like stardust. I never believed in magic. That was the spice and seasoning of books.
What I felt right now was enough to convince me it was real.
His breath mingled with mine, warm and sweet, as my eyes fluttered closed. The world receded until there was nothing but the hard pressure of his lips, the steady feel of his hands as they cradled my face.
My heart, which had been thundering against my ribcage only moments before, seemed to pause mid-beat, then restart witha staccato rhythm. My fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, threading through his hair. I leaned into him, and something ignited between us.
The kiss turned ravenous.
There was only us. There was only this. This raw hunger, the pulsing need. I whimpered when he bit my lip. The strip of cloth between my legs was slick with heat and need.
His hands slid from my face, tracing a burning path down my neck, my shoulders, coming to rest on the curve of my hips. He pulled me closer, eliminating what little space remained between us, and I gasped against his mouth.
“Time to go home,” he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. “Unless you’d rather stay for the suckling pig they’ve spent all day cooking.”
I shook my head.
And then reality snapped back into place. Cheers and whoops filled the air, mimicking a summer thunderstorm. Here I was, on my knees, in front of the mob boss—who was on his knees—kissing him as though my life depended on it.
Which wasn’t too far off. Because it most certainly did. I would be lost without this part of my soul. Staring into the black pits of his eyes, I saw my other half looking right back out at me.
Chapter 38 – Poppy
Brady was exhausted. We’d ended up staying to feast with the syndicate. Only when they brought out a karaoke machine and began to uncork yet another round of white liquor equivalent to Everclear did we slip away.
Brady’s eyes drooped as we read. The moment his head hit the pillow, he drifted off. I lingered for a few minutes, thinking about the day. There were other kids here. This neighborhood was actually perfect for him. He wouldn’t be kept in a cage, forced to grow up apart from friends or family. There was a small army of men here who would die to keep these streets safe—and many who would live for them.
I didn’t ask for more than that.
Rushing from his room, I tiptoed down the hall, through the kitchen, and pushed into Ivan’s room without knocking.
The kingpin looked up from his bed. He pushed something under a pillow, but not before my eyes snagged on the title. A children’s book. Ivan was…practicing reading.
“Something wrong, Poppy?” He sat up straighter.
The lock depressed under my thumb with an audible click.
“No.”
His eyes darkened to twin gems of onyx in the lamp light. “Careful, flower.”
Screw that. I was done sneaking around the issue.
With a flick of my fingers, I dropped the pink, cherry pajama pants. As I stepped out of them, I lifted the matching tee over my head.
Ivan reached for me, but I shook my head.
“Lie back,” I murmured.
“Poppy,” he warned.
I closed the distance, pushing his shoulders down to the pillow. My left leg swung over his hips as I climbed onto the mattress. “I want you. I want you tonight…and every night.”
Bending, I pressed my lips against his pulse. I gave his hair a tug, forcing his neck to a longer arc. He let me. Hands planted on my hips, assuring me that he was in charge, he let me work my mouth down his body, taking a measure of control.
I knew it was thin.
