“Are you always such an arrogant prick?” Why was I asking a question I already knew the answer to. Mafia men were considered depraved people, right? So, his behavior would certainly be indicative of his career.
“That’s a loaded question.” He took a step forward and despite the indecision pumping through my veins, I stood my ground. A sinful smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth and a shudder passed through my body.
“Come any closer and I’ll scream,” I warned, knowing I was shit out of luck threatening this man but that didn’t stop my fingers from closing around the Chinese ring knife sheathedagainst my thigh. The last time I used it on him, I failed. Regardless, I never went anywhere without a little protection.
“Again, you mistake me for a man who actually gives a fuck.” He moved closer, invading my space with deliberate intent.
Lightening quick, my hand shot up, bringing the sharp knife to his neck, pressing down on his tanned skin. Unlike our first encounter, I had the drop on him now. Silently, we stared at each other, my scowl warning him I’d draw blood this time and his, daring me to.
“The only thing a man unafraid of death would fear, is whether that fucking hole they dig to bury me, would be deep enough to keep me dead.” His eyes darkened, telling me he’d probably haunt me from the other side too.
He leaned into the blade, bringing his head closer and forcing me to pull back slightly but not quick enough to prevent the skin from splitting. I flinched at the sight of his blood rolling down his throat yet unable to stop my nostrils from flaring. His cologne was a subtle blend of something cool, woodsy and citrusy. I had the strangest desire to bury my face in his neck and inhale his scent.
The distraction allowed him to grasp my hand, remove the knife and toss it over his shoulder, the clatter as it hit the floor, deflating my heart. I cursed under my breath at the same time my gaze drifted to the wound on his neck, glad I’d hurt him.
He cocked his head to one side, refocusing my attention on those luminous eyes, the kind mothers warned their daughters to be wary of, to never trust. Against his dark hair and skin, handsome was too simple a word to describe him. He was what I’d call a walking magnet, the north pole to a woman’s clit.
Eyes locked with mine, he lifted two fingers to the cut, rolled them over the blood and before I could gauge his intention, he brought them to my mouth, shoving them between my lips.
Horrified, I shook my head, trying to dislodge them but he grasped my throat, his firm grip keeping me in place. “Suck, Ishika.” The way he said my name made my stomach clench and startled, I slid my tongue over his fingers, the metallic tang shocking my tastebuds.
Watching me, Remo’s expression remained blank, but something shifted in those eyes. A flash of darkness and hunger vanished as quickly as it appeared yet not swift enough to stop a weird contrast of unsolicited want in the pit of my stomach.
Bothered, by my body’s reaction to this obnoxious man, I jerked my head to the side and pushed at his hands, causing him to release me. “You’re disgusting,” I snapped, grappling for self-preservation.
“Disgusting would be me taking you right now on this dirty floor against your will.” One dark brow rose in a slow taunt. “But I’m looking at a beautiful woman whose tight cunt will drip all over my tongue the second I spread your legs and shove my filthy mouth between them.”
My jaw dropped open and stayed that way as I tried to come up with a response. But my imagination had other ideas, invoking a sinful vision he’d just planted in my head, followed by a rush of wetness between my thighs. I squeezed them, hating his effect on me, hating that I was turned on.
He tilted his head to one side, his smirk telling me he was aware of my thoughts. I clamped my mouth shut, knowing I’d make a fool of myself if I replied.
“So wet for me, aren’t you?” he mocked.
“There’s a whole freaking town of women you can have, who probably want you, why do you want me?” I gritted.
“I’m a man who always wants what he’s denied. It’s unfortunately a sick obsession I have,” he sounded bored, and I knew my time was up. “Now, what will it be? A scream of terror or a moan of pleasure?”
“Why are you such an asshole? Mommy issues perhaps?” I taunted when I should do well to stop poking the bear.
He bit his bottom lip and it pained me that I found the gesture strikingly beautiful until he opened his mouth again. “Why don’t you ask me what you really want to know?”
“What?”
He reached out to stroke my cheek and again I jerked back, hitting the wall at my rear, avoiding his touch. I could do nothing about the whimper though, it slipped out.
His dark laugh shot the hairs at my nape to attention. “You want to know how long, how hard and how deep I can fuck you, don’t you?”
Holy shit.
His crudeness knew no bounds. “I’m not a virgin,” I blurted, having heard mafia men preferred innocence.
The glint in eyes, however, refuted the idea. “I don’t need bloody sheets when I fuck my wife.”
“Wife?” I choked, heat shooting up my body.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, little fox.” He winked.
God, the nerve of this infuriating man. Irritation sparked every nerve in my body to life, more because the act of losing my virginity was unmemorable.
