“Then don’t hurt me.”
“It’s not me you should worry about,il mio angelo perduto. I might be the only person who can keep you safe.”
“Why do you care? Why, Jaxon? You barely know me as you’ve said. In your eyes, I’m nothing but a lost angel.”
“Because I do.” I cupped her face and as soon as I did, she pressed one hand against my chest, her fingers kneading my skin. “I care for you, Anna. I’m not one to say those words easily nor do I understand all the reasons why. You’re right. I don’tknow you very well, but I sense you and I are very much alike.” I lowered my head, drinking in the essence of her desire.
“How so?” She leaned into me, her breathing as labored as mine.
“We’re a little bit lonely, a little bit broken. But very much determined to be who we want to be. Warriors.”
My answer drew a smile, slow and practiced as if fearful she’d allow me to see her most vulnerable side. What she might not realize as of yet that she’d already exposed her greatest personal weakness.
Missing her father.
Whoever he was, he had given her a gift that he’d likely done to keep her safe.
My instincts about her had been correct.
She was a mafia princess.
All the signs were in place. Perhaps she hadn’t realized the clues that had begun to put the pieces of her personal life’s puzzle together, but I missed nothing. She’d been brought to New Orleans, but unless she was the best damn actress in the world, she had no understanding of the potential war she could have dropped into the middle of.
Unless her father had called in favors.
Irina Novikov would know. Of that I was certain. The older Russian woman couldn’t keep me at arm’s length for long. With a plan in motion, now I could spend the rest of the night fulfilling my desires.
And in doing so, I’d ensure my guest fully embraced that she wasn’t merely staying the night. She would stay as long as I so desired.
And in my mind, that would be a very… very long time.
“Is your name Anna?”
Her nod was slow, allowing me in through the cracks that she’d welded together in a protected cage of her own making. All for a dream. Did she have any idea that her father’s sacrifice could have placed him in harm’s way? “Anastasia. Papa used to call me Anna when he was angry with me.” Her memory was bittersweet.
“Anastasia,” I breathed. “Beautiful.”
Perfect for my lost angel.
Only she was no longer lost.
I’d found her.
And planned on keeping her.
As I’d done before, I captured her mouth, only this time, I wasn’t in a hurry. I wanted to taste all of her, to enjoy every moment of having her writhing underneath me. The kiss was intimate, reeking of passion, yet a slow and easy burn that continued to build with every passing second.
Anastasia brushed her palms up my chest while leaning into me. She was the one who darted her tongue into my mouth, exploring while I slipped my hand behind her neck. The feeling of having my fingers tangled in her hair was far more enjoyable than I’d realized in my past experiences.
Then again, every experience with Anna… with Anastasia was entirely different than what I’d had before. Which was only one reason why I craved her with every ounce of my being.
I cupped her face with one hand, holding her in position, but she’d given up her fight, clinging to me in a possessive hold of her own. She was a fighter, yet another reason I adored her.
But the need to protect was as strong as it had ever been.
Including with Rose.
Within seconds, she was pulling me into the bedroom I’d given her, a guest room that suited her personality. Spunky as fuck.
