Arranged Mafia Marriage

I slide back a step as he pushes back and up to his feet.

“Enjoy the show?” His lips curl. Jeez, that smirk. It’s mean, and cruel, and so hot. Why is it that the bad boy is always so much more appealing than the man you’d want to take home to meet your mother? Not to say my mother wouldn’t appreciate the spectacle of a hot sex object of a man working out, either.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

“It was okay.” I toss my hair over my shoulder. “By the way, you barely made it to fifty.”

“That’s because you distracted me.” He takes a step forward; I move back further. Hey, stop that; hold your ground. Don’t give in to this big bully.

“You’re not very good at keeping your focus if my mere presence causes you to get sidetracked,” I sniff.

“Oh, you’re causing me to get more than distracted… And that’s the truth.”

Instantly, I lower my gaze to his crotch, then wish I hadn’t because the unmistakable bulge in his pants tells me exactly what impact I have on him.

He closes the distance between us. I watch him warily as he advances. He stops in front of me, then crosses his arms over his chest. He’s so tall that I have to tilt all the way back to meet his gaze. The sole window high up in the ceiling is to his back. The rays of sun slanting in are blocked by his body.

“You… you don’t scare me.” I tip up my chin. “Truth.”

“Lies, all lies.” He scratches his bare chest, and I lower my gaze to those cut abs. My mouth salivates. This close, that dark chocolate and coffee scent of his intensifies. The heat from his body reaches out to me, and I lean forward before I catch myself. How am I going to resist him when I’m locked up in this room with him?

“I dare you to return to your side of the room and wear your shirt,” I blurt out.

He smirks. “Where would the fun be in that now, eh?”

“I am not sleeping with you, okay?” I wrap my arms about my waist. “Why don’t you play with yourself instead?”

“Hmm…” He gives me a considering glance. “Now that you mention it.”

He reaches for his waistband and I jump up on the bed. “Stop! I didn’t mean that literally. It was simply a figure of speech or something.”

“You sure?” He pops the button of his waistband. “I’m happy to oblige.”

“No, no, no.” I turn around and face the wall. “Please, I was simply trying to get you to move back, that’s all. I didn’t mean it, I promise, okay?”

He laughs and the sound rolls across my skin. OMG, this is not good. Why can’t I simply ignore the guy?

“Chicken,” he murmurs in a low voice. I sense him moving away, so I risk a peek over my shoulder, and heave a sigh to find him walking over to the opposite side of the room. Once more, he sinks down to the ground and kicks his legs out in front. Only, he’s still not wearing his shirt, so that wide expanse of his chest is bared to my perusal. I turn to face him and sit down on the bed cross-legged.

“So, truth. How many siblings do you have?” I ask.

“Seven. Six. No, seven.” His forehead furrows.

“You don’t know how many siblings you have?” I laugh.

“Xander died,” he says simply.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut. Typical me-saying something stupid when I should have stayed quiet.

“He was killed by a bomb placed in his car. Luckily, Karma, my oldest brother Michael’s wife, who was also in the car at the time, escaped. She lost the child she was carrying, though.”

“Oh, no.” I lock my fingers together in front of me.

“She’s pregnant again.” A small smile curves his lips. “Which means Michael will not leave her side. It’s as if those two are on a perpetual honeymoon.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Too sweet, maybe.” He bends one knee. “Between the two of them, then Christian and Aurora, Axel and Theresa, and Seb and Elsa, my brothers are falling like flies. They’re all too busy bowing their heads in servitude to their wives.”

“Servitude?” I scoff. “It’s not servitude if you love your wife and want to take care of her and your child.”

“Knew it. You’re one of those suckers who believes in hearts and rainbows and Happily-Ever-Afters.” He smirks.

“So?” I firm my lips. “It’s normal to want to meet a man who thinks of you as the center of the universe. Something you wouldn’t understand because the only person at the center of your universe is you.”

“And don’t you forget it.” He stabs a finger in my direction. “Also, you’re beginning to bore me.” He yawns. “I think I might get some shut eye. It’s a better use of my time than hearing you prattle on.”

Jerk. I curl my fingers into fists. I really want to go over and slap his face, but if he were to retaliate, I’d be no match for his strength. Also, not sure if I touch him, I’d be able to stop at a slap. My fingers tingle. I’d want to run my fingers down his neck, down the valley that demarcates his pecs, to that flat stomach of his and down to- I glance away. Jeez, can’t I even look at him without wondering how big he’s going to be when I finally take him in my hands? I mean, that column in his pants can’t lie, right?

I glance back at him to find him pulling on his shirt and his boots.

He must feel the question in my eyes for he glances up at me. “I prefer to be prepared for any eventuality. I suggest you do the same.” He leans his head against the wall and closes his eyes, showing off the strong column of his throat. He has one arm balanced on his bent knee, but his body is relaxed. He’s completely still. He can’t be asleep already, can he?

I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. Rise and fall. We’re hidden away from the world. It’s likely no one knows we’re here, and yet, I’m not as scared as I should be, because he’s in here with me.

Is that crazy? Maybe. I should be more worried about the fact that there’s someone spying on us. Someone who wants to watch us getting it on before he’s going to let us go. Not that there’s any guarantee he will, of course. For all we know, he may have been saying it only to test us. Not to mention, what if he records it? What if he’s planning to blackmail us… Or sell it? Oh, my god. What if he keeps us here forever, forcing us to have sex so he can film it and sell it? No, no, no. I’m not going to think about that. People watching us have sex and getting turned on by it? I can’t think about that. It’s too embarrassing. None of it changes the fact that I’m not letting this man near me, and not because I don’t find him attractive. Quite the opposite.

If he touches me once… If he runs his fingers over my breasts, down my stomach and between my legs, and if he rubs my clit… I’m going to explode. A shudder runs up my spine. I glance down to find my fingers between my legs. No, no, no, I can’t be touching myself, and certainly not when I’m in the same room as him. Apparently, even being trapped here with a deviant watching us is not enough to deter me from fantasizing about my cellmate.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rise to my feet. I hesitate, then pull on my own shoes. Best to be prepared. I’m not doing it because he told me to but because it makes sense.

Making sure that he’s still asleep, I walk over to the wall closest to the window, then I raise my arms over my head.