Nico growled, a low rumble that made her stomach tight with need. He curled his hand around her neck, and yanked her close, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. Not wanting to give in so soon, she dragged her palm along his shaft, feeling it harden with each firm stroke.
“Yes, you did.” She flicked her tongue along his earlobe and crooned. “You wanted me, Mr. Mob Boss. You wanted my hand stroking your cock. You wanted me on your desk, my dress hiked up, my panties gone, my pussy hot and wet—”
Before she even realized he had moved, Nico had her flat on her back on his desk, her skirt pushed up to bare her sexy skull garters.
“Dio mio.” He traced his finger along the edge of her garters, and then his hand tightened around her thigh like he was struggling to restrain himself. “You might just break me, yet.”
“Then break.” She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Here I am. Your fantasy come true.”
He pounced, roughly pushing her panties aside. With a low growl of satisfaction, he slicked one finger through her labia, sending an exquisite shudder through her body. “Make no mistake. That part of my fantasy will come true tonight. I will have you on this desk in every possible way. But that comes after.”
“After what?”
He pulled her up to sit, and she gave a disappointed moan.
“Shhh. You are entirely too sexy, too distracting. And tonight I have something I need to do.” He settled her on the edge of his desk and smoothed down her dress. From his pocket, he pulled out a small black velvet box and then he went down on one knee.
Emotion welled up in Mia’s chest. “You don’t need to do this. We’re already married. Elvis said so.”
“You are worth so much more than a quickie elopement ceremony, cara mia.” He opened the box. “I want to do it again. Properly. When the words I say come from the heart.
Mia stared at the beautiful ring, platinum, with a black diamond in the center and two pink diamonds on the side, held in a punk-style setting. “If I had to design a ring, this would be it. This is me.”
“I saw you the first time we met. And you saw me.” He took the ring from the box. “Ti adoro, Mia. Ti amo. Make me the happiest man in the world by becoming my wife.”
“Yes.” She whispered the word without hesitation. If anyone had told her six weeks ago that she would wind up in a mobster’s arms, tied to the life she’d fought so hard to escape, she wouldn’t have believed them. But love made all the difference.
He slid the ring on her finger and stood, sweeping her into his arms for a smoldering kiss.
Mia melted against the heat and strength of his body. “I’d like three Elvises this time, two bottles of vodka, and a nice, long religious ceremony so I can watch you struggle with your self-control. And I would still like to consummate our marriage in the restroom at Red 27.”
Nico chuckled. “Anything you want.”
“Anything?” She looked up at him, at his tender expression, the softness in his eyes.
“Yes.” He tightened his arms around her. “I will give you anything. My body. My heart. My soul. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours.”
“I want forever,” she whispered.
“Cara mia.” He brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. “You already have forever. I gave it to you the first time I held you in my arms.”
Read on for an excerpt from the next book by
Sarah Castille
LUCA
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
It started out like any other day in Vegas.
Luca rolled out of bed at noon, showered and shaved. There was nothing more important for a Mafia capo than la bella figura—looking good in the eyes of society. Once his knives were strapped to his body, he dressed in a new Italian wool suit, crisp white shirt, and red silk tie. He holstered two Glocks across his chest, an S&W500 and a Ruger GP100 around his waist, and a Walther P22 beside the knife on his ankle just above his Salvatore Ferragamo shoes. After meticulously checking his appearance, he walked back into the bedroom, ready to start his day.
That’s when things started to go wrong.
First, the woman in his bed didn’t want to leave. When charm and soft smiles failed to encourage her departure, he had to yank the covers off the bed and toss her money on the dresser, shattering the illusion that she was anything other the high-class escort she pretended not to be. Luca always tipped well so her feigned indignation lasted only as long as it took her to count the cash and wobble her way out of his penthouse suite.
After that, it had been one broken leg after another as he tried to call in a few business loans. The day had continued its downward slide when he had gone to collect protection money from a pawnshop on Las Vegas Boulevard only to discover that the Albanians had muscled in on his territory.
Whacking Albanians was never a good way to break in a new suit, but the Toscani crime family didn’t waste time when there were lessons to be learned.
Luca called up a couple of friends and they sent the Albanians back to their home country via the fiery pit of Hell.
With their arms missing.