The Mob Gave Me a Week to Leave, So I Took Over Dorchester novel · Chapter 7 of 24

Chapter 7: Snow

Snow was coming down on the back porch, and Marek's hand was under my sweater.

It was one in the morning on the second floor of the Boston Street three-decker, and the yard below us was white and silent.

I stood at the rail with my coat open and my back against his chest.

He had come out after me without his jacket.

His arms were around my waist and his chin rested on top of my head.

"You're freezing," he said.

"I'm fine," I said.

"You're shaking."

"I'm thinking."

His thumb moved in slow circles over my ribs, under the wool.

"Tell me," he said.

"I'm going to the Table. I'm going to walk in that room and stand in front of five old men and say my husband's name."

"I know," he said.

"I'm not going to be afraid," I said.

"You can be afraid," he said. "You can be as afraid as you like, and walk in anyway. I've watched you do it for a week."

I turned my head and found his mouth.

He kissed me slowly, with snow in his hair, and a heat went through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

His hand slid up and cupped my breast, and I leaned back into him.

I felt him hardening against the small of my back.

"My mother's bedroom is right under us," he said into my ear.

"Then I'll have to be quiet."

"You'll have to be very quiet."

I pressed my backside back against him, and I heard him swear under his breath.

"Mała," he said.

"Cover my mouth," I said. "I'll bite you."

"Don't tempt me."

He bent his head to my neck and his teeth closed lightly on the skin.

I gasped.

His hand slid out of my sweater and went down, over my stomach, and under the waistband of my leggings.

His fingers slipped through the wetness, and I bit my lip.

"Already," he said, low.

"You've been standing behind me for ten minutes."

"Fifteen."

He pushed my leggings and underwear down to my knees in one smooth motion.

The air on my bare skin was bitter.

I hissed, and then I heard him go down on his knees on the snowy boards behind me.

"Marek, what are you doing?" I whispered.

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