Chapter 28 RóISE

Miceli's hand cups my nape, his thumb brushing up the column of my neck.

I try to suppress a shiver.

Not very well.

"Cold?" The masculine purr holds more satisfaction than concern. "Here."

He takes off his suit jacket and settles it over my shoulders, surrounding me with his scent. I can't get away from it. Or him.

Do I really want to?

I ignore the treacherous question prompted by my ovaries, but do I move away? No.

"My cousin Nerissa is adopted." Miceli's fingers are playing with the hair at my nape now. "We bring in recruits from outside the Genovese families every year."

"That's great and all." Who can blame me if my tone is a little breathless?

Miceli De Luca has magic fingers and I know what they can do to every part of my body. Even spots I thought no one would ever touch.

My sphincter tightens and it's not in fear of what might happen in the future.

"But our contract requires a baby to cement it. I'm sure your brother expects his wife to give him heirs." I'm proud of my ability to follow the train of conversation.

This guy is way too good at the sex stuff. I was pretty good at it too, that night in Portland.

"All that's true, but none of it is the primary reason my father contracted a marriage for my sister with a don's son."

"Then what was?" My feet are moving, but my focus is on the hand touching me .

Without Miceli's hold on me, I'd probably trip and fall flat on my face.

"Giulia will always have a target on her back because of the family she was born into. Her marriage to Raff keeps her safe."

"Did it ever occur to your dad to provide her with security instead?"

"I doubt it and I wouldn't consider that enough for my child either. It's not enough. Our connections protect us as much as our weapons. Giulia has two mafias watching over her. As my wife you will be one of the safest women in the world."

I believe him, but that's only part of the story, isn't it? "I wouldn't need protection if my family weren't part of the criminal underworld."

"You are born into the family you are born into," he says fatalistically. "Wishing won't change that, but refusing to accept it will make you bitter."

"I suppose you never doubted your place, or wished you could have a normal life." Cut Miceli open and he bleeds Cosa Nostra.

"By the time I knew the difference, I was already fiercely loyal to the Genovese."

"Brainwashed from infancy," I say flippantly.

"Taught a way of life." He pulls me even closer. "Our way."

Stopping, I turn in the embrace that now encircles me and look up into his handsome, serious face. "My dad promised he would make sure I had a different life. A normal life. Even if it meant changing my name and disappearing."

I'm not sure if I would have been any more willing to cut myself off from my family than I am now. What I do know is that once Uncle Brogan took over the family, my chances at a normal life went out the window.

I just didn't realize it until that day in his office when he gave me the ultimatum. Marry into the Italian mafia or stand back and watch while yet another cousin takes my place.

"You wouldn't have been able to disappear with your face in the spotlight." Miceli taps the tip of my nose teasingly, a whimsical twist to his lips. "Even a B Lister would get recognized by somebody connected. Or did you plan on being the world's worst actress?"

Miceli De Luca teasing? Ares was good at it, but I haven't seen this side of him since that night in Portland.

"The term is actor." My disapproving look doesn't reach my eyes and I know it. "And there is such a thing as plastic surgery."

My dad would have balked at that though, because I look so much like my mom.

Intense, dark eyes trap mine. "It would be a travesty to change a single feature on your face."

"Why are you being nice?" And why is my heart racing ?

He cocks his head to one side. "Have I been mean?"

"You're an underboss; cruelty is your middle name."

"My job won't touch you. I am cruel. To my enemies. But you're not my enemy. You're going to be my wife."

"You were a jerk about Allessio and Zoey."

"And you were unreasonable."

I shake my head. He doesn't understand. I'm still waiting for the blowback at school. I know it's coming.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm not being nice. I'm being honest."

Like I told Miceli. I didn't grow up in a bubble. I've had guys hit on me. This isn't that. Oh, I'm pretty sure the underboss wants in my pants, but this isn't that.

What is it though? "I'm not all that."

"You know I think you're beautiful."

For a moment, that night hangs between us. His compliments whisper in the air around us.

My Aphrodite, you are so beautiful. Your name does not do you justice, it should be Helen .

The beauty that launched a thousand ships.

"It was the makeup and wig." This isn't false modesty.

The makeup artist has an amazing career ahead of her.

"No," he growls, the hand on the back of my neck tightening. "It was you."

When he says stuff like that and when my brain squints just right, I can forget he's Cosa Nostra.

Commence with the squinting, brain. My vajayjay wants some action.

My lips part without a command from my squinting brain and his eyes darken with instant lust.

I'm reaching up as his head comes down and our mouths come together like waves crashing against the rocks. He eats at my lips and I slide my tongue against his.

Jayzuz, Mary and Joseph .

That taste. Tingling lips. Electric sparks igniting a path to my clit by way of my nipples.

Clasping my hands behind his neck, I jump up. He grabs my bum and lifts so I can get my legs around him and hold on.

I tear my lips from his. "The boathouse."

We're only steps from it and privacy. Did my subconscious bring us here?

Maybe. Because the sexual feelings he woke in me back in February are a buzzing undercurrent along my nerve endings now. My cooch is contracting, wanting to be filled up by that big dick of his .

I've never had the chance to be sexually liberated and that night in Portland didn't change that. I ended up craving the one man I believed I would never see again, much less have.

Deprived of my mouth, Miceli trails his down my neck, latching on to a spot that turns those sparks into explosions.

"Privacy." My head drops back, giving him better access. "Naked."

That word does it.

We're moving like the starter pistol just went off at the Belmont.

He stops at the door to the boathouse and I gasp out the code for the electronic door lock.

Fumbling movement behind me. A muttered cazzo and then damn.

"Hurry up." I'm not helping, but I want this before the part of my brain that's not squinting starts throwing up roadblocks.

The door opens and we're inside the boathouse.

"Over there." I point to the area beyond the boat slips.

He bypasses the sofa, chairs and hammock that is perfect for reading in the summer with the bay doors open.

My back slams against the wall bringing back memories from our night together.

"You've got a thing for walls."

He lifts his head, eyes hazy with sexual need. "I've got a thing for you."

"This outfit isn't easy access," I point out.

Uncomprehending, he stares down at me, his body moving lewdly against the apex of my thighs.

"We need naked, unless you want to dry hump." I'm not averse.

I've never done that. It could be fun.

Miceli's head shakes in instant negation. "I want inside you."

"Condom?" Wow. Look at me being responsible.

"Birth control?" he counters.

"The pill." I've been taking it since a week after my uncle blackmailed me into the alliance deal.

"Don't need a condom."

I open my mouth to protest.

He kisses me then steps back with a groan. "I'm clean."

I believe him. But I'm not na?ve. "Prove it."

Respect, not irritation, flares in his espresso gaze. He fishes in his suit jacket, his hands grazing both sides of my breasts.

"Can't remember which pocket your phone is in, old man?"

He grabs it with one hand and squeezes my boob with the other. "There it is. "

Pulling it out, he uses the thumb on the hand holding it to get to where he wants while he keeps up that rhythmic kneading of my breast through my jumpsuit. No skin is touching skin, but my temperature is skyrocketing.

"All clear. See?"

I make myself read the test results. "The date is for two weeks ago."

He could have been with a dozen women since then.

"I haven't so much as slow danced with anyone since Portland." His teeth close gently on my earlobe. "Do we need a condom, Aphrodite?"

He's asking if I believe him. If I can trust him this much.

The truth hits me in the solar plexus. Yes, I trust him. "No." We don't need a condom.