Page 13 of A Bride for the Mafia King

That gets his attention. His ice blue eyes settle on me. “Would you prefer I ignore my responsibilities just to throw rose petals at your feet?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

He puts his phone and pen down and reaches for his drink. He tips the glass back, finishing off the last of its contents.

“And what if you married an ass? Perhaps you should have read the fine print more carefully,” he says as he examines the bottom of the now empty glass before discarding it on the table.

I blink in disbelief.

“Unbelievable. You act like you didn’t just marry me a few hours ago. No, I didn’t expect to be worshipped, but good God, I won’t be ignored like this!” I exclaim. “You said I am Russian now that I’m your wife. Prove that you meant it and I’m no longer an outsider.”

“Is this an Italian thing?” he asks, his blue eyes piercing my invisible armor once more. “This desire for constant attention?”

“That’s not what I said.” Now I’m beyond frustrated, verging on furious. “I am not some child demanding attention. I want respect, as I expect you do.”

That gets his attention. I feel the shift in the air immediately. He stands, stalking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. A predator studying its prey that suddenly found the will to fight back.

I step back. He keeps coming. I keep backing up until my back hits the glass windows. I realize too late that he’s deliberately backed me there. His arms come up, one hand planted on either side of me, boxing me in. His eyes pin me in place.

My pulse skips violently, and the air is suddenly so thin I feel dizzy.

When he speaks next, his voice is soft but rough, teasing me like velvet over my skin. “Is this what you want, Eva? For me to pay attention to you? To your needs? ”

I open my mouth. Close it. The heat that shoots through my body is nearly unbearable. I can feel myself squirm, cheeks flushing under the sudden intensity of his gaze, eyes darkening as he moves even closer.

“I… I don’t… know…”

God, he’s so close, I can’t breathe.

His mouth curves into a dark smile. “Don’t you?”

Then he kisses me. Hard. Fierce. Possessive. His mouth claims mine like he has every right to it, marking me as his. My world tilts. My hands grip his shirt reflexively, pulling him into me before I even realize what I’m doing. The kiss steals my breath, replacing it with an unquenchable hunger far more dangerous. I can feel myself growing hot and slick between my thighs, a needy, aching warmth growing in my core.

He pulls back and I mourn the loss of his lips, chasing after the contact again, but the sudden shift leaves me dizzy. He doesn’t move far—just enough that he can murmur in my ear, voice husky and rich with sinful promise.

“You have absolutely no idea whose hands you’ve willingly put yourself into.”

His lips find my neck, trailing teasing butterfly kisses over my skin, before his teeth scrape over the sensitive spot below my jaw. Between the assault, he murmurs roughly, “I don’t trust you. But that doesn’t change that I want you.”

Then he nibbles at my earlobe, his hands moving to my waist and pulling me hard against his steel formed body. “You are here to solidify peace. To give your brother the power that he wants. And to be my wife. Do not forget that. And play your part.”

His teeth nip at my bottom lip, making me gasp with the surprising pleasure that quick bit of pain evokes. Then he kisses me again—deeper this time, slower, more passionate, as if daring me to stop him. His hands roam, sliding lower on my hips, drifting back over the swell of my ass and gripping teasingly before continuing up my back to keep me flush against his chest. My nipples are twin peaks, pebbled hard and aching; every breath causing small shocks of pleasure to course through me from the friction of my dress over them.

I want to. I don’t want to. Confusion mingles within me as my emotions run away. This feels good—too good—and I want more. So much more. But I have to stop this before it goes further. And before I can second guess my choice, I shove my hands against his chest, hard. Hard enough to break our kiss and earn myself a few inches of reprieve.

“Don’t,” I say firmly, staring up at him panting. Breathless, angry, overwhelmed. “Don’t do that again.”

“Do what? Awaken your desires?” he laughs, low, knowing.

Raising a hand, he strokes his fingers down the side of my face as he examines my lips, a seductive smile on his own. Then he leans in close enough that for a second I think he’s going to kiss me again. Instead, he speaks against my lips.

“You’ll be begging me to do more than that before the week is over,” he murmurs, his voice like liquid sex running over my body, “Malishka.”

I stare up at his beautiful eyes, accepting the dare, refusing to acknowledge just how right he probably is.

“Guest room?” I demand.

Leaning back, he gives me enough space to slip past as he points down the hall.