Page 261 of Don’t Say Mafia

My fingers trailed down—along her jaw, the column of her throat, over the frantic little pulse that jumped under my thumb. And then lower, to the swell of her breast, where her nipple pebbled through her cotton shirt at the barest graze.

My cock throbbed painfully against my zipper, and I had to try to talk it down. She deserved to be awake for the first orgasm I gave her. I wanted to see her begging and desperate as she fell apart for me.

But the second my lips brushed her temple, I nearly moaned at the feel of it. Eden let out a soft sigh, like she knew me even in the dark, even in sleep . . . and it hit me like a drug. My whole body locked up, and my heart was slamming so loudly I was sure it would wake her.

I should’ve forced my feet to move. I should’ve left the room and gone back down those stairs.

Instead, I stayed exactly where I was, bent over her sleeping form, one hand braced on the mattress beside her head, and I leaned in again. This time I brushed my lips against the corner of her eye, then the curve of her cheek, then the shell of her ear. Each kiss was light, barely there, but every one sent fire through my veins. Her skin was so soft. I wanted to bite it . . . mark it. I wanted to wake her up with my teeth on her skin and my cock already inside her.

I obviously couldn’t do that, though.

Kicking off my boots, I slid the sheet back carefully and eased onto the mattress behind her. The bed dipped dramatically under my weight, the springs protesting with a long, drawn-out groan.

I shifted slightly, trying to distribute my weight, which only made the whole thing creak in a new and inventive way. For a split second, I considered the fact that I owned properties with mattresses worth more than this entire apartment, and here I was, lying on something that felt as though it had been assembled from tin cans. The springs pressed into my back, answering my thoughts.

How did she sleep on this fucking thing?

Oh, right. She was drugged. There was no way she’d be sleeping well otherwise.

Eden shifted, and I froze as she curled away from me. I stared at her for a second, but she was still fast asleep. Sliding my arm around her waist, I pulled her flush against my chest. Her ass nestled perfectly against my hips, and my dick pressed insistently against the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.

The sedative was doing its job perfectly.

Mine.

The word branded itself into my brain as I buried my face in her hair. I tightened my hold and flattened my palm over her stomach. She sighed again, soft and needy, and her hand found mine in her sleep and threaded our fingers together.

Fucking hell.

I pressed my lips to her nape, tasting her pulse as my other hand slid up under her tank and cupped her breast. She arched against me, a tiny whimper slipping out as my thumb brushed over the tight peak.

Okay . . . down boy.

Stopping myself, I decided I would just hold her for a few hours and then leave before dawn. A little treat after dealing with Paulie’s office.

But the exhaustion hit like a freight train, and it all crashed down at once. My eyelids grew heavy. My breathing synced with hers. The city noise outside faded to a dull roar.

I told myself I’d rest for just a minute.

Just long enough to feel her heartbeat against my palm. Just long enough to pretend this was normal. That I wasn’t a monster who’d killed her husband and drugged her to crawl into her bed like I belonged.

My eyes drifted shut.

And for the first time in years, I let go.

CHAPTER 17

JAGGER

Eden was bent over the kitchen island, her skirt shoved up around her waist, her panties ripped off and stuffed in her mouth to muffle the screams I was going to force out of her. Her wrists were pinned behind her back with one of my hands, the other fisted in her hair, yanking her head back so her throat arched and her tits scraped the cold marble every time she moved. I didn’t ease in. I slammed home in one vicious stroke, burying myself balls-deep, the thick stretch of me forcing a choked scream from her throat that echoed off the cabinets.

She was dripping. Slick ran down her thighs, coated my cock . . . made every thrust wet and loud. I watched myself disappear inside her, watched the way her pussy stretched around me, greedy and tight, sucking me back in like she was made for this. For me. For being fucked like a dirty girl on the counter where we made coffee every morning.

Eden tried to say something, and I took pity on her, pulling the panties out of her mouth so I could revel in her screams.

“Harder,” she begged in a wrecked voice as she pushed back against me like she needed more. “Please. Fuck. Don’t stop.”

I fucked her like I hated her, like I loved her, like I’d die if I ever stopped.