Seeking Vengeance: Possessive Mafia Romance (Hunting - Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Eden Summers

  “Good.” He turns and stalks away, disappearing into what I assume is the bathroom.

  I pause a second to regain my composure before I follow, entering the gleaming white room a few steps behind.

  He stands in the middle of the tiled floor, staring at the tub already towered with bubbles, the fluffy clouds piled above the rim, a towel folded and waiting on the vanity along the back wall.

  “You didn’t need to do this for me.” I move farther inside. “I could’ve run the water myself.”

  “I’m sure you could, but I like having someone to indulge.” He shoots me a lackluster smirk, his attention skating over my cleavage to my stomach. “It’s been years.”

  “A romantic? Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

  It was meant as a joke, but the seconds that follow become far deeper than that. Tense. I’ve fractured the lust by bringing us back to the real world.

  We both have information we could use against each other. Ammunition. The repercussions potentially run deep.

  “And yours with me,” he promises and makes his way toward the hall. “I left a robe hanging on the back of the door. Take your time. Relax. Call out if you need anything.”

  “And if what I need is you?”

  “Then maybe hold off for a while.” He meets my gaze for a beat before returning his attention to the hall. “When we’re finally together, it won’t be fast. I assure you, Layla, you’re going to want energy in reserve.”

  12

  Layla

  He pulls the door closed in his wake, leaving me to picture exactly how long fucking him might take as I remove my clothes.

  My shoulder protests the movement and once I’m naked, the angry red lines marking my body explain why. The purse strap had a free-for-all with my skin.

  A quick glance in the mirror doesn’t come without a pained breath, either. My left cheek is viciously swollen along the bone, the puffiness almost reaching my eye.

  I force myself to turn away, shoving my concern about Cole finding out to the furthest reaches of my mind, and climb into the bath.

  The warm water is quick to soothe me, the heat coating my exposed skin in a sheen of sweat as the bubbles cuddle my chest all the way to my neck.

  It doesn’t take long for the scotch to go to my head, numbing me perfectly, making the shaking stop. The silence will be my downfall, though.

  The long stretch of quiet gives me too much time to picture this energetic sex Matthew alluded to. My imagination runs rampant with wild scenarios that aren’t entirely my forte.

  It’s been a decade since I experienced passion. Even longer since I felt adored.

  Benji and I made things work because of Stella and the family business. And we played our roles well. But below the surface, we were far from wedded bliss. We flatlined before our daughter was born. No romance. No energy. Little lust.

  It wasn’t long until I discovered my husband was cheating on me, and I was okay with that. I always thought he was owed a mistress or two for what he was forced to give up. Especially when I would quit sleeping with him for months on end.

  I kept the knowledge to myself, too. I never betrayed him to Cole due to fear of the punishment that would follow. Or worse—the death sentence.

  Maybe it was wrong to pretend I didn’t know. Maybe Benji would’ve stopped if I asked. But I kept quiet for my own sake, too. Not just to keep my daughter’s father alive, but because it was a relief to rely on strangers to fulfill a duty that was meant to be mine.

  Not once did I feel gnawingly hungry for sex like I do now.

  Not once in more than nine years of marriage.

  “How are you doing in there?” Matthew asks from behind the closed door.

  “I’m good.” My chest fills with butterflies as I picture him in the darkened hall. “Do you want to come in?”

  “You didn’t lock the door?”

  I bite my lower lip. No, I didn’t. I thought about it, though. “Would the flimsy lock have stopped you from breaking in if you wanted to?”

  If Matthew’s intent was to hurt me, he could’ve done it many times already. He could’ve whisked me out of the city while I was disorientated from the incident in the alley. He could’ve kidnapped me that night at the food truck. He could’ve forced me to do anything from his sheer masculine power alone.

  The knob turns, the door gradually inching open to expose the man I’ve been daydreaming about for these unending minutes. No, for the last three weeks.

  He leans against the doorframe, his gaze taking me in with hunger. “I made you another drink.” Another glass of scotch rests against his hip as those dark eyes devour me.

  “Thank you.” I tilt my head to the side when he remains in place. “Do I have to wait until I get out for you to give it to me?”

  “That’s probably for the best.” His attention lowers to the bubbles. “It’s not a good idea for me to get any closer.”

  I press my lips tight, holding in a smile.

  God, I love the predatory lust in his gaze.

  “Where’s Bishop?” I raise my arm from beneath the water, slicing open a path of bubbles to guide a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Out.”

  “Out?” I hold in my delight at his gruff response.

  “He’s busy rescheduling my flights. Again.”

  My heart pangs at the reminder of our limited time. “When do you leave?”

  “Tonight.”

  I play with the bubbles, raking my fingers through them, spreading them one way, then back the other, attempting to tease him with the possibility of exposing what the thick cloud hides.

  “That doesn’t give us a lot of time.” I keep swirling, decimating the foam further and further with each swipe.

  “No,” he murmurs. “It doesn’t.”

  When he falls quiet, refusing to continue the conversation, my thoughts become more daring, my curiosity growing wings.

  I raise my leg onto the side of the tub and shiver when his nostrils flare.

  “Are you deliberately torturing me?” he growls.

  My heart kicks. Wild and unrhythmic. “Torture you?”

  He raises the scotch, downing the contents in one fell swoop before returning the glass to his side. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

  There’s a warning in his voice. A delicious subtle threat.

  My throat tightens. My chest, too. Everything is so painfully, invigoratingly restricted that I have to fight hard to maintain level breathing.

  I raise my other leg, crossing both at the ankles against the rim of the tub. I shouldn’t be doing this. Warning bells ring in the farthest recesses of my mind. If only they were loud enough to put a stop to the craziness. “Join me.”

  His jaw ticks. That’s his only response. No movement. No words.

  “Matthew?”

  His features tighten, almost setting in a glower as he grates, “Be sure about this, Layla.”

  “I think I am,” I lie. I’m not even partially certain. I’m running on instinct alone. No, not instinct—infatuation.

  “Then I’m staying where I am.” He crosses his arms over his chest, the glass moving to rest in the crook of his arm.

  “Why is this—”

  “I’m on the precipice here. I can only pretend to be a stand-up guy for so long, then I’m going to start pushing my own agenda. So don’t play with me, amore mio.”

  My cheeks blaze as I retract my legs from the rim of the tub to sit up straight. “I wasn’t…” I shake my head. “I’m not…” I don’t know what to say.

  “What?” he asks. “You’re not what?”

  “I wasn’t playing. I like being held by you. I just never assumed the offer had to come with a predetermined conclusion.”

  “It does and it doesn’t.” He raises his chin as if stricken. “If at any time I did something you didn’t appreciate, you’d only have to say the word and I’d stop. But that’s where your problem is going to be. I’ll make sure y
ou appreciate everything I do. I’ll make you want me, Layla. I’ll push you further than you anticipate and I won’t regret it.”

  I shiver. Head to toe. Every inch of skin sizzles with goose bumps.

  I don’t doubt him. He’s already pushed my boundaries. I’ve accepted numerous open drinks. I climbed into the car of a stranger. I’ve left myself vulnerable to him.

  These are all cardinal sins set out by my family since birth. Yet, I don’t regret breaking them.

  I want more.

  “Join me,” I whisper.

  He leans over in a swoop, placing his glass on the tile before he deftly shucks his suit jacket to the floor. Then, with one button after another, he exposes me to a torso of carved muscles, his hard work ethic and determination etched into the peaks and curves of his chest.

  “Something wrong?” He raises a brow as he drops his shirt to the floor.

  “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”

  He smirks, his strong hands latching onto his belt. He holds my gaze as he pulls the leather from the clasp, but I can’t keep the connection—not when my cheeks flame hot.

  I tilt my face away, stupidly bashful, the heat in my cheeks seeping down my neck.

  My heart thunders at the continued clink of the belt buckle. In my periphery, I see him discard his suit pants to pile them on top of his shirt.

  He snickers, the faint sound making me shiver. “What’s wrong, Lay?”

  I pull my legs to my chest and focus on the bubbles as he continues to undress, removing his socks, then his underwear.

  “Don’t tell me you’re shy.” He approaches, stopping directly over my shoulder, almost out of sight. “Another bashful flutter of those lashes and I’m done for.”

  I focus on levelling my breathing as I hug my thighs. “Not shy. Just respectful. It’s rude to stare.”

  There’s another muted snicker. “Let me make this clear—the things I’ve pictured us doing are far from respectful. Now scoot forward. Let me sit behind you.”

  I do as instructed, shuffling farther along the tub.

  Every one of my nerves tingles as he climbs in, raising the water level along with the horizon of bubbles. The moment his legs slide around me, I tense, my nipples beading painfully. It’s such a strange sensation, this hyper anticipation coated in brutal nervousness.

  “Relax.” His hands find my forearms under the water. “Lean back against me.”

  I don’t know how. I’m frozen. All the overflowing confidence I had moments earlier has vanished, the traitorous bitch leaving me to fend for myself.

  “It’s okay.” His voice is soft as he guides me to recline against him, his hands adding tender pressure on my shoulders. Then he falls quiet, not saying a word as I settle into him. There’s only the gentle ebb and flow of his breathing and the thrilling hardness of his dick against my back.

  “You’re still shivering.” He glides his fingers over my arms, gently teasing me below the surface. “The adrenaline is taking its time to wear off.”

  “It’s not the adrenaline.” I clear the discomfort from my throat while his touch climbs higher to my biceps, then farther.

  He massages my shoulders, lightly kneading. “You’ve got no idea how much I appreciate knowing I have an effect on you.” He nuzzles my neck, awakening the sensitive spot below my ear. “You’re a hard nut to crack, Layla.”

  I tremble, the vibration skittering along my chest. “You poor thing. Did my restraint batter your excessive ego?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.” The words hum against my skin before his lips follow with a brief kiss. “But don’t worry. I’ll turn the tables.”

  I hold in a smile, fully aware the tables have always been turned. Soon they may even be flipped.

  “How’s your cheek?” He scrapes his teeth over my shoulder, his hands continuing their gentle onslaught down and around my waist.

  “Throbbing.”

  “Room service shouldn’t take long to bring a bucket of ice. And the concierge is arranging a cooling pack.”

  “Thank you. But I shouldn’t need all that. The swelling will go down soon.” If it doesn’t, Cole is going to be on the warpath.

  “I ordered a bottle of champagne, too.”

  “Now that I would accept with open arms.” I need to reclaim the confidence I had when he was standing in the doorway. I want the upper hand, not these flimsy, flaky responses.

  His fingers move to my belly and I stiffen with the intimacy before I can stop myself. The low hum of his laughter only increases my tension. He’s so incredibly sure of himself. So deliciously confident.

  “Relax, Layla.” He kisses my shoulder. “You’re safe.”

  Safety isn’t my concern. What I fear is disappointing him. Our connection felt different when he was struggling for restraint at the door. Now he’s in his element, having already won this game of seduction, and I didn’t even leave the starting blocks.

  “Easier said than done.” I struggle to loosen my muscles.

  “Why?” His touch trails lower, along my abdomen, inching farther and farther toward the apex of my thighs, where I already feel his effects the most.

  “You know exactly why.” I’m unsettled. It’s clear he has me tied in knots.

  “How would I know? You’ve been successful in exposing very little about yourself.” He places another kiss to my neck, the kindness followed by a rough scrape of teeth. “Am I moving too fast? Too slow?”

  I don’t know.

  Nothing is certain anymore. There’s only sensation, and it’s taking me over like a drug.

  “Maybe,” I croak.

  “Maybe too fast?” His touch continues to descend, gliding over the slim patch of curls at my pubic bone. “Or maybe too slow?”

  I suck in a ragged breath, my pussy clenching as his fingertips divert farther down along the path where leg meets crotch. I shake my head, unable to answer, no longer even sure of the question.

  “Too fast or too slow, Layla?” he murmurs.

  I whimper, the blanket of bubbles doing nothing to stop my mind from visualizing what’s happening below the surface. His strong hands consume my vision. The image of his lips on my skin makes me throb.

  He adds pressure to my legs, parting them, exposing me beneath the water. “Want to know what I think?”

  I breathe harder, clenching my eyes shut.

  “I think your fragile little whimpers mean you’re hungry for more but don’t know how to ask for what you want,” he rumbles under his breath. “I think you’re throbbing, your body begging to be sated. I even think you might finally be realizing all the pleasure that could’ve been yours the first night we met if only you’d allowed it. How we could’ve been like this weeks ago.”

  He continues to speak against my skin, punishing me with wave upon wave of goose bumps as his fingers continue to sweep back and forth along the apex of my inner thighs.

  “And just think, amore mio—I’m barely getting started.”

  I clench my molars. I’m going to moan. I feel the release build in my throat, determined to escape. There’s so much tension. Too much. My body craves. My heart pounds.

  “Tell me you want more,” he teases against my neck.

  “I want more.” I respond too quickly. So damn fast my answer should be humiliating. But the embarrassment will have to wait until the aftermath. Right now, craving is all I know. Hunger entirely consumes me.

  His fingers continue to creep, swiping closer and closer to my core. “How much more?”

  Everything.

  The moan escapes, my head falling back to rest against his shoulder.

  “You can’t say it?” he asks.

  No. I’ve never asked for sexual favors before. Never even voiced my need.

  “Please, Matthew,” is all I can admit.

  “It’s okay. I won’t make you say it. Not today.” He sweeps those fingers closer. “But soon.”

  The threat shivers down my spine. The warning that I will one day hav
e to admit my desires fills me with unstable excitement. I’m high. Euphoric. Entirely mindless with lust. I never knew this heightened state of hunger existed. This clawing, savage need.

  “I enjoy seeing you like this.” He continues the external sweep of his touch. “Worked up. Greedy. This is how I’ve felt since we met. My cock hard as stone, my thoughts always on you.”

  I shake my head. “You barely know me.”

  “That’s the crazy part. I don’t know a damn thing about you, and still, I’m infatuated.”

  Those fingers skirt the edge of my pussy. Back and forth. Up and down. Constantly teasing. I grasp his wrist, clinging tight. He has such inspiring control, such unwavering confidence.

  I wiggle my hips, eager for this torture to end.

  “Don’t worry, I’m impatient, too.” He kisses my jaw, my neck. “So fucking impatient, amore mio. But this is merely the beginning.”

  I’m about to force his hand where I need it the most when a knock sounds on the furthest reaches of my consciousness.

  I freeze, blinking back to reality.

  Matthew growls in frustration.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I brace to sit up, but he holds me down with those strong hands clamped around my crotch.

  “It’s only room service.” He tilts his face away, calling a loud, “Come in,” toward the hall.

  I tense further, ready to fling his hand off me so I can scramble for a towel.

  “Stay.” He keeps me held tight. “They’ll be gone in a minute.”

  My pulse thunders as the suite door creaks open, the unmistakable rattle of a trolley quickly following.

  “Sir?” a man calls. “Would you like me to leave your order in the living room?”

  Matthew steels his hold, his legs tightening around me. “No, bring it to the bathroom.”

  13

  Matthew

  “Jesus Christ.” She scrambles, wiggling and slushing water over the edge of the tub in an attempt to get out.

  “It’s okay,” I purr in her ear. “Your modesty remains intact. You’re completely covered by the bubbles.”