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“Never let anyone stand in your way, son. Not even fucking blood. They’ll be the first to undercut you, and they should be the first to die for it.”
I wish that had deterred me from falling in love with him. Sadly, when I found out, I was already too far in. That’s the scary thing about love; it blurs the lines of right and wrong. You choose to ignore what you should question because it’s dangerous and thrilling at the same time.
I would spread my legs for him like an avid reader would turn the pages of a book.
He pushes off the doorframe and walks over to me. I want to back away, but I’m frozen where I stand. Cupping my tear-streaked cheek, he whispers, “You belong to me now, Haven. And it’s time to go home.”
His lips devour mine a second later. His kiss is like pain—it demands to be felt. So fucking much that it makes me weak in the knees.
A growl rumbles his chest. His free hand comes up, grabs a handful of my hair, and yanks my head back again. His dark eyes bore down on mine. And for once, I don’t shrink back. I forget about why I’m here and the ripped dress that lies on the marble floor. My heart pounds and my pussy throbs. I’m wet for him. I need to be reminded that I’m his. It’s pathetic and completely wrong, but that’s us. Nothing about our lives has ever been clear. Or morally right.
“Get mad, baby,” he whispers roughly. “Spread those soft legs and let me show you why you were always my favorite.”
ANOTHER LIE. I haven’t been with anyone else since her. And it’s going to stay that way.
Her legs tighten on my hips, pulling me closer to her. My cock is still in her hand, and she grips it like a vise. “Come on, Haven,” I coo. “Use that pretty mouth and tell me what you want.”
She’s never been able to tell me no, and I love that about her. How much she needs me. Things aren’t going to be any different than they were before, other than the fact we have a contract. One that states she can never leave me. Marriage into the Mafia is like being born into the Mafia. There is no escape other than death.
