This Time I Choose Mr. Mafia novel · Chapter 6 of 32

Chapter 6: Late

Damiano didn't move for a long moment.

He stood in his doorway with one hand on the frame and looked at me.

"Say it again," he said.

"I'm not here to win anything."

"Then what are you here for?"

I put my hand flat on his chest, the way I had at the courthouse.

His heart was going as hard as mine.

"You," I said.

He took my wrist, pulled me over the threshold and shut the door with my back against it.

He kissed me like the courthouse had been a rehearsal.

Like he'd been waiting all week to get it right.

His mouth was hard and certain, and his hands went to my hips and held me there, pinned to the door.

I kissed him back the same way.

I could taste the coffee he'd been drinking at one in the morning, and under it, him.

He pulled back just far enough to look at me.

"You came to my door in this."

"You said when I came to you, it wouldn't be to win something."

His jaw tightened.

"I meant it."

"So did I."

I fisted both hands in his T-shirt and I pulled.

He let me drag it up over his head and throw it on the floor.

The scar along his left ribs was pale against his skin.

I put my hand flat over it.

He went still under my palm, watching me.

"I don't want a polite husband," I said.

"What do you want?"

"You."

"That's not an answer."

"The boss of the Bastiani family," I said. "In this bed. Fucking me until I can't remember my own name."

His eyes went dark.

"That's what you came upstairs for."

"I came upstairs for you."

"Then you'll get me."

He picked me up like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed.

He set me down on the edge of it and stood over me.

"Lie back."

I did.

The lamp was on.

I could see all of him.

The scar.

The muscle in his stomach.

The way he watched me like I was the only thing in the house worth looking at.

He knelt on the bed and pushed the straps of my nightgown off my shoulders, one at a time.

Slow, like he was unwrapping something he'd waited for.

The silk slid down and caught at my breasts.

He didn't help it.

He just watched my nipples tighten in the cool air.

"Damiano."

"Say it."

"Touch me."

He pulled the gown down to my waist, then lower, until I was bare to the hips.

He leaned over me and kissed my throat.

Then my collarbone.

Then the skin between my breasts.

My hands went to his shoulders, and I dug my nails in.

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Put your mouth on me."

He did.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth and worked it with his tongue until I arched off the bed.

Then the other.

His hand slid the rest of the gown down my legs and off, and he tossed it away.

I was naked under him except for the gold band on my left hand.

He knelt between my legs and looked at me.

All of me.

And I let him.

"Spread your legs."

I did.

He lowered his head and put his mouth on my pussy.

I cried out.

His tongue was hot and exact.

He licked up through my slit, slow, and then he did it again.

My hands fisted in the sheets.

He found my clit and circled it.

"God."

"Not God," he said against me. "Say my name."

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