Mia stiffened, shifted in her seat. “It was all aboveboard. Vito knew what I was doing.”
“But it’s not something anyone could do,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “Just like hacking isn’t something anyone can do. Regardless of why you do it, many would see it as wrong. And yes, you keep it all legal, but it’s a very fine line.”
With an irritated sniff, she turned away and stared at the screen. Amused that she was annoyed that he had pointed out what he thought of as an engaging quality, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her up.
“Come here, bella. I wasn’t criticizing. I like that you aren’t afraid to take a risk. I like that you aren’t straight, that you try to help people in an unconventional way. I like that you have one foot in my world and one in the other.”
He pulled her into a straddle over his lap while the Queen of Soul poured liquid sex into his ear, drowning out the warning niggle at the back of his mind.
Mia raised an eyebrow in mock disapproval. “I just played you the top twenty feminist songs of all time, tried to introduce you to a new genre of music, and you decide you want a lap dance to Aretha Franklin’s ‘Respect’? I hope you appreciate the irony.”
“I respect you. If you want me to stop, I will.” He put his hands on her hips, rocked her gently against his aching cock, the ear bud wires dangling between them, connecting them. “But if you’re offering…”
Her smile lit her face, warmed his heart. He had put that smile there, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to see it again.
“I don’t give lap dances to suits.” She reached for his tie and deftly undid the knot, pulling it off Nico’s neck with a soft hiss. His fingers clenched tight on her hips, and all his blood rushed to his groin.
“Undress me, Mia,” he demanded. “I want to fuck you into oblivion.”
She pushed his jacket over his shoulders, and he released her long enough to let it drop to the seat behind him.
“Tell me what you like,” she said softly.
“You.”
“I like you, too,” she murmured as she undid the buttons on his shirt one by one, her soft hands an exquisite torture on his skin.
“Tell me another song you like. Something modern.” She tugged his shirt out of his pants, parted it, her hands smoothing over his chest. He unclasped his holster and placed his weapon on the desk before shrugging out of his shirt. Unlike many of the wiseguys on his crew, Nico worked out daily. Not just because he took pride in his appearance, but also because violence was part of the life and he needed to be in top physical condition to be able to enforce his will in a way that would garner respect.
“AC/DC’s ‘Thunderstruck.’” It was how he was feeling now with this beautiful, sexy woman on his lap, her hands warm against his chest, her hips grinding against him as she wiggled to the beat. A delicious agony.
“You like AC/DC?”
“I liked it so much, I once threw a brick through Luca’s window so I could hear it better.”
Mia sat up. “Did you just tell a joke, Mr. Mob Boss?”
“I don’t joke, Mia. Ask him.”
Her smile faded. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. You’re forgetting who I am.”
Nico’s stomach tightened in a knot. He had not for one second forgotten who she was. But he didn’t fucking care that she was the daughter of his enemy. He wanted her. End of story.
Mia pulled back, studied his bare chest. “You’re inked,” she said in delight. Her fingers traced the lines of the word inked beneath his pec. “Trust. Why did you choose that?”
“If we don’t have trust in our world, we have nothing.”
“And the dagger?” She tilted her head as she studied the handle of the dagger tattoo that reached from his belt to his sternum.
“A commitment to protect my family.”
“And this?” Her throaty voice made it almost impossible to sit still, and he shifted in his chair when she pressed a kiss to the tribal design on his right side.
“Warrior’s mark.”
“God,” she whispered. “I love your ink. I don’t know any mobsters like you.”
He fisted her hair, tugged her head to the side, deeply satisfied that his body pleased her. “There are no mobsters like me.” He kissed his way down the column of her throat and nipped the sensitive skin where her neck joined her shoulder. Her thighs tightened around his hips, and she rocked against the broad thickness of his cock. Sharp waves of hunger pulsed through his veins. He could lose himself in this woman. They were connected in a way he didn’t understand but he knew he couldn’t live without.
Nico’s phone buzzed on the desk. He wanted nothing more than to turn it off, but it was a ringtone that Luca and Frankie used to warn him if something was wrong. He reached for it, and the message he read killed his desire in an instant.
“Get dressed.” He stood so abruptly, she only just caught herself before she fell.
“What’s wrong?”
Nico reached for his gun. “We have company.”
ELEVEN