Page 12 of The Mobster’s Nurse

And at the same time, I want to drag her back in here. Bend her over the desk. Peel her pants down, revealing her round, creamy ass, and pound her until the collision of my belly against her cheeks turns her red and has her gasping. Until she says my name like it's the only word she knows.

I close my eyes. Breathe.

She could be involved in this. She could be lying through those gorgeous, perfect teeth. She could be working against my family right now. Playing us.

I run a hand down my face. Across my stubble. Each prickle against my palm reminds me of my professional duty. Reawakens my need to be cautious.

And if she is, I am in serious fucking trouble.

Because the part of me that should be coldly cataloging her as a suspect is instead replaying the sound she made when I touched her. The way her fingers needily gripped my forearms. The way she said my name — Luca — like it surprised her, coming out of her own mouth.

I know I'm going to be useless for the next hour. Needing fresh air, I leave the office.

The ranch is quiet now. A horse shuffles slowly in the enclosure, dark against the orange sky. Somewhere out there, Ellie Cruz is walking back to her quarters on unsteady legs, telling herself she's fine.

I hope she's not fine.

I hope she's thinking about me the way I'm thinking about her.

Stop it.

There's a traitor somewhere in my father's operation. Horses are being poisoned. The Irish are moving west. I have a job to do, and it is the most important job I have ever been asked to do, and I am standing here moaning internally over a woman I've known for four hours.

Get it together, Moretti.

I pull out my phone. Call Georgio.

"Any movement?"

"Nothing yet, boss. All staff in quarters or common areas."

"Keep watching."

I hang up. Open the staff files on my laptop and force myself to look at the names, the photographs, the employment histories.

I get as far as the third file before her face drifts across my mind again. Those pale green eyes. That furious blush.

Damn.

I slam the laptop closed. Press my knuckles till they turn white.

Tomorrow. I tell myself. I'll be sharper tomorrow.

But I know I'm going to wank my cock so hard later, thinking about this, I'll leave friction burns.

4

ELLIE

The next morning, I’m trembling as I drive into work. I never felt this way, even in my old job when I had to stand up for those dogs. But after that interrogation—if that’s what we’re calling it—I’m sizzling all over. Last night, I couldn’t sleep.

I pressed my hand between my legs. Tried, but failed to convince myself I’m above this. I’m not so needy that I’m going to get obsessed about any man. Let alone someone who runs horses and cracks heads for the mob. No matter how hot and bothered…

But the lie is up when I grind the heel of my palm against my clit, and my body melts. With Luca ever present in my mind, I speed my hand up, grinding then strumming. I splash a finger through my wetness and insert it, hooking it toward the back of my clit. I close my eyes and see him watching me like I'm the only interesting thing in a room full of problems. Not saying anything. Just looking at me like he already knows how this ends and has decided he's patient enough to wait. I’ve never felt an orgasm like it. My whole body flexes, and my clit sends jolts of pleasure swarming through me. I bite on my pillow, not wanting to disturb my neighbors. Such a wonderful, shattering feeling. Now I know I’m in trouble.

I head into the medical unit to check the day's list. Part of me wonders if I should’ve said something about Daryl yesterday. But I don’t have anything concrete. What if I’m wrong and Luca hurts Daryl, then Daryl turns out to be innocent?

I bite my lip. Wonder how the hell I’m in a situation where I’m wondering if I’ve got what it takes to protect my boss. All I want is to focus on the animals.