I throw my purse down on the kitchen bench and grab a glass out of the cupboard. Turning on the tap, I begin to fill it, then feel Connor come up behind me.
He was quiet on the ride home, but then again, so was I. The entire evening was exhausting. In the car, I curled up my legs, and he pulled me into his chest where I snoozed, both of us deep in thought.
“I’m sorry.” Connor lays his hands on my hips. “About the house. I didn’t think.”
But is he sorry about setting a wedding date without speaking to me? No.
I turn. “It’s fine.”
“No, Mia, it’s not. I won’t take those things from you,” he says, and it almost offends me.
Sometimes, I forget this relationship is fake, which I know is ridiculous because we’re not in love, but Connor is so intense and the way we spend our nights…Well, there is nothing fake about those.
Things are getting so fuzzy in my head.
“You just surprised me,” I say, then when he tilts my face to his, I sigh. There is no hiding from Connor Barrett, and I know he won’t let this go until I share what I’m thinking.
God forbid he ever do the same.
“Tell me.”
I sigh again.
“I used to plan my wedding when I was little. My mom would play along, and we’d imagine what my dress would look like, and she’d show me how she’d do my hair.”
Connor runs his fingers up my arm, his gaze roaming my face. I wonder why he cares. Or if he cares. I continue because I want him to know. Fake or not, he’s going to be my husband, and we’re sharing our lives under this roof.
For now.
If I married a mobster in an arranged marriage, it could be way worse. There’d be no love. At least I’m attracted to Connor.
Highly attracted.
I know he desires me because ninety percent of the time we’re together, he’s touching me. Not just sexually. Every night, we have sex, but there’s a difference between a man wanting sex and one who wants you. It’s in the way they look at you, the time they take while touching you.
This man confuses me so much.
This relationship confuses me, and yet, I know I’m safe with him.
Watching him with my father was terrifying but thrilling. I’ve never seen anyone meet Joe Mancini on the same level before. Now that I can breathe again, I can admit it was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.
I mean, Connor is gorgeous, but seeing him stand up to my father was goddamn panty-destroying.
Then he went ahead and spoiled it by deciding we are getting married next month. That was annoying, but when he brought up the venue, my heart splintered.
Fake wedding or not, I want my mom.
My whole family knows I want to marry in Long Island. I spent half my childhood dressed up as a bride, zooming around the house with curtains on my head.
If I don’t, it will be very odd, but how can I?
How can I marry this man, who doesn’t love me, in the one place where my mother raised me while wishing she was with me?
Does my freedom mean that much to me?
Can I dishonor her?
“I used to dress up and pretend to walk down the aisle with a bunch of flowers,” I tell Connor. “I’d steal from the front entrance bouquet. Susanna would get angry and curse in Italian, throwing her arms in the air, until momma would tell her it doesn’t matter.”
Connor smiles as I laugh, then a little unexpected sob escapes me. He curses and pulls me into his arms.
“Fuck, Mia. I’m an idiot.”
“You didn’t know,” I say into his chest.
“I should’ve fucking known.” He takes my chin and forces me to look at him as a tear slips out. His eyes shut for a moment, and then his thumb wipes the tear away. “You deserve so much goddamn more than all of this. It’s not right.”
All I can do is blink and stare at him.
His expression is pained, and it surprises me. I can’t tell if he regrets this or cares about me.
Perhaps that’s it.
Getting involved with my family is a risk to his organization’s reputation. Was tonight a reality check?
Why did he agree to all this?
For me? For sex? For a measly one point five million dollars?
I was so desperate on Sunday night when I came to him, topped-up on wine and with a confession. I’m beginning to really question the validity of why he agreed to it.
His reasons.
I can understand a man like him would want a regular sex partner without commitment. Unlike an average man, he can’t be seen picking up a woman at a party or taking out every single girl in town, without expecting bad press and getting a reputation.
Sure, there are wealthy men in Manhattan who do, but Connor isn’t a playboy. Surely, there are women who would want this job. For want of a better word. A regular arrangement with Connor, which is discreet and, speaking from experience, highly pleasurable.
The risk is high. I see it from his point of view. Women fall in love easily.
How could they not?
The difference here is, I needed his help. With me, it’s a partnership, where both of us have agreed to go our separate ways at the end. I get what I want. Connor gets regular sex and the money at the end.
This really is a win-win for him.
And me.
He was willing to take the hit with the media and face my father. He wasn’t threatened, and why should he be—he’s one of the wealthiest men in the United States and a marine.
It’s nearly like I’ve found the perfect man.
What I didn’t expect were all these emotions.
Or his.
What does the look in his eyes mean? Does he regret it after meeting my family? I need to know, or I will worry.
We either move forward with our plans, or we don’t.
“If you’ve changed your mind, we can tell everyone I’ve called it off. Make it my fault. I got you into this, Connor, so it’s my responsibility. I’ll even face the media,” I say. “I can leave right now and stay with Sienna.”
It would only be for one night, anyway.
The moment my family hears I’m no longer with Connor, they’ll scoop in and take me home, lock the door and throw away the key.
Connor shakes his head slowly.
“Whatever is going on in your head, forget it, Mia. You are not going fucking anywhere,” he says in a growl. His mouth covers mine, and I melt into him completely.
Because for reasons I’m not ready to acknowledge, I don’t want to leave.
CONNOR
THE ONLY THING I’ve changed my mind about is which position I’m fucking Mia in tonight. I want her wet, from top to bottom.
I have some making up to do after asking if she wanted to marry at the Mancini Mansion. She’s opened up to me, and I’m honored. But deep inside, she’s a little girl who lost her mother. I know a thing or two about losing your family.
I lift her off her feet and walk into our bathroom.
Our?
“Dress off, Mia,” I say, reaching to turn on the shower.
I unbutton my shirt as her dress falls to the floor, and she stands before me in a peach-colored bra and panties. They have little silver hearts dangling from them.
Her long dark hair falls across her shoulders, and she’s so damn perfect, I’m hard immediately.
Tossing my shirt, I reach for my pants, but her hands are on my pecs, sliding down my chest, and she’s starts undoing my belt.
“I want control,” Mia says.
“No,” I reply firmly as my pants fall to the floor.
“Commando.” Mia smiles, wrapping her hand around my swelling cock. Then she licks her lips.
“Don’t play with me,” I warn her. “If you want to suck it, get on your knees.”
The smile may have gone from her mouth, but I see it in her eyes. She’s testing me, pushing the barriers to see how far I will let her go.
Not far.
Slowly, she crouches and licks the tip of my member, settling on her knees. I twitch in her hand, wanting more of her hot wet tongue. She darts out and swirls around the end.
More teasing.
“Mia,” I warn, tempted to grip her head and take what I want. Yet I replace this side of her sexy as fuck, and it’s turning me on.
With a flicker of those long lashes, she wraps around the entire head and she sucks, releasing it with a pop.
Jesus fucking Christ. It’s like I love torture.
I let out a groan while she takes me down deeper. Then again, over and over, until suddenly, I’m deep in her wet hot mouth, and she’s working me hard and fast.
I throw back my head and groan, one hand palmed on the shower wall, letting her have all she wants. My thighs are spread, and a beautiful woman is on her knees, sucking my cock. Life is feeling pretty fucking great right now.
Heat zips down my spine as I get close. I drop my head and slide my fingers through her long dark hair, gripping and taking control.
“I’m going to come down your throat, hard,” I grind out, and her eyes tell me to do it.
I wasn’t asking.
“Good fucking girl.” Both hands on her head, I stroke her mouth, and almost immediately, my hot seed spills as I throw my head back. When Mia gags, I release her head and start stroking my cock, covering her lips and breasts.
As if marking her.
I gaze down at her, my semen dripping from her lips, and it fucks with my head. I want to own this woman every way possible for the rest of my…
Stop.
Snapping me out of that insane thinking, Mia stands and removes her bra, then her panties, and steps under the water.
I’m still fucking recovering. And not done yet.
Following her into the shower like a rabid animal, I take her by the hips and lift her onto the built-in shower seat.
“Hey, ohhhhh,” she purrs when my fingers go straight to her pussy, replaceing the creamy moisture I’m after.
I lick my fingers, then claim her mouth.
“Taste yourself,” I say, and she moans against my lips.
Rubbing her clit, I kiss her again, as if it’s the last time I ever will, until she’s rocking against my fingers, wanting more.
“You going to marry me, Mia?” I ask, my mouth moving along her jaw. “You going to let me fuck you however I want and make you mine?”
What am I saying?
“Yes,” she cries, arching into me, desperate. “Yes.”
“Tell me what you want,” I order her.
“I want you.”
She doesn’t mean that—she means my cock. I’m starkly aware of that fact and know I shouldn’t care. Know I should be just fucking this woman, but we both know I’m not. I wish she didn’t, but even I know I’m giving her much more than I promised.
My protection.
A piece of my soul.
“You want my cock or my mouth?” I stand to stare down at her startling icy blue eyes, that have the ability to make me do things I never would before.
“Um, I…,” Mia starts, and I grin at her indecision.
My fingers press inside her, and she cries out again.
“Choose, Mia.” I’m fucking her hard with two fingers now, about to take her choice away. I stroke my cock with my other hand.
My patience is running out.
I need to be inside her. To be connected and pleasure her. To claim what feels like belongs to me.
When she glances down and watches, I know she’s chosen.
“Yeah, baby, such a sweet little pussy,” I growl, pressing my cock against her entrance. Pressing inside, inch by inch, I go deeper and feel her tighten around me. The sensation is so intense, I have to force myself not to runt her, like the animal I want to be.
That I am.
“Oh God, fuck,” she cries. “More, Connor, more.”
Hearing my name on her lips makes me even harder. I take her chin and tilt her face up to mine. “Keep being a good girl, and I’ll get you your freedom.”
Right now, I’d give her fucking anything.
“Yes,” she cries.
“Until then, you belong to me,” I grunt when I’m balls-deep. “Do you understand?”
She doesn’t respond, so I thrust again.
“Mia,” I growl.
Her nails dig deep into my arm, her legs wrapped around me. I slam a hand on the wall of the shower above her and demand her submission again.
“Tell me.”
I’m a fool. We both know I can’t ask it of her, nor honor it if she did. Still, the desire and defiance in her eyes kills me, so I crush my mouth to hers while my cock thrusts along her channel.
When her pussy tightens, it takes me over the edge, and we both cry out together.
Pleasure blasts down my spine as I spill into her.
A few moments later, Mia’s legs begin to slide from my body, but I’m not done. Not even close. I grab them, turn the shower off, and carry her to our bed.
Our.
“I haven’t washed yet,” she says into my neck.
“You are about to get real dirty, sweetheart. I’ll wash you after. Now get on your knees.”
I know she’s not mine to own, but the desire to possess this beautiful woman is all-consuming. Tomorrow, I will think about what the fuck I’m doing. Right now, I need to know I own her in ways she will never understand.
Or agree to.
Tonight, I lie and tell myself it’s all part of the plan so I can avenge my family.
None of it’s true.
For the first time in my life, I’m not thinking about them.
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