Virgin: A Mafia Billionaire Romance

by Shanna Handel

  “You didn’t have to share your best wine with me. I could have drunk something else.”

  “No matter, I’m happy to share it. They were coming today to pack the rest of my furniture and ship it to the Village anyway. This probably would have gotten nicked by one of the brothers—probably John. He loves fine wine and knows I don’t drink.”

  She takes another sip of the wine. “Tess certainly does know her wine.” Her gaze meets mine. “You admire her, don’t you?”

  I shrug. “I respect her. She’s smart, brave, devoted to the family. A perfect match for Rockland.”

  “Is that why you’re still single? You haven’t found anyone like Tess yet?”

  “I’m single because I choose to devote my attention to the needs of the brotherhood. And... yes. I guess you could say I haven’t met anyone that’s piqued my interest.”

  She gives me a smile. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for you.”

  “And I for you. You’re single as well.”

  “I’m afraid I’m frightfully single.” She breaks my gaze. Stares at the fire. She looks sad.

  I want to know why. “What does that mean? Frightfully single?”

  She takes a deep drink from her cup. Asks me for a refill. I comply, wanting her to be comfortable in my home. She takes another sip, then says, “I’m as single as you can possibly be. I’ve... I’ve never even been kissed.”

  I feel my brow crease. Adrianna? Never been kissed? How is this possible? I’ve witnessed men staring at her—she turns every head in the Parish when she walks by. She comes from a small Italian village—surely she had boyfriends there? Then I remember Rockland’s orders to me, keep the men away from her. “It’s your family. Isn’t it? They’ve never let you out of their sight, have they?”

  She shakes her head. “You should have seen the way Rockland talked to guys when I was growing up. They were terrified of him. I never even got asked out to a school dance.”

  What is she? Twenty-five? Too old to have never had a boyfriend. She takes another sip of wine and when she pulls the cup away, I can’t tear my gaze from her crimson-stained lips. The tip of her tongue darts out and moistens the full bottom one.

  A mouth that’s never been kissed.

  There’s a tightening in my crotch. I distract myself, grabbing the bottle from the coffee table and refilling my own mug.

  I feel for her. No first dance with a boy... Missing out on first touches, caresses. A girl this fetching, with lips so lovely, to never have been kissed—it’s a shame.

  Maybe it’s the wine going to my head. Or the way the firelight dances against her skin. Or the knowledge that this is my second to last night in this beautiful house. That we are locked in here together, alone. That I am the first man to ever have touched her.

  I yearn to kiss her and the longing tears in my chest. The burning desire overwhelms my senses.

  I clear my throat. “I’d better check on the food.” I leave the room. Go to the kitchen to check the timer on the oven. I scan my phone. No messages. It’s a strange feeling to be useless to the brotherhood—officially off the clock for two days. I wipe the counters. Do anything other than cast my gaze over to where she sits. Waste a few minutes while I compose myself, rid myself of longing.

  When I return, she’s filling both our glasses again. To the rims. The bottle is almost empty.

  She seated on the couch, but she’s no longer tucked in one corner. She’s sitting dead in the center. I’ve no choice but to sit closer to her. I take the wine, join her. She offers me half the blanket. I accept. She scoots closer to me, wrapping us in it.

  Her legs are curled beneath her and her knee is pressed against my thigh.

  And in that moment, I know.

  She wants me to kiss her.

  Whether she’s attracted to me, or just desperate to finally meet the milestone she should have reached almost a decade ago, I’m not sure. But she’s licking her wine-stained lips and they’re glistening. Her gaze meets mine.

  Begging me.

  I move my body closer to hers. Now our legs are pressed against one another’s. Our shoulders touch. The heat from our skin transferring through our clothing. The air between us is electrified. Our gazes search one another’s.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulder. She snuggles into my side. Her shoulder tucks beneath my arm. Her head rests on my chest.

  A perfect fit.

  Her hair brushes against my cheek. It’s softer than I imagined. Her rose petal scent fills my nostrils as I inhale deeply, breathing her in. We sit, staring at the fire, a picture of relaxation. But within me, every muscle in my body is tense. Every nerve awakened and on high alert.

  Her body is melting into my side. She gives a sigh of contentment and the soft sound causes a welling in my chest, a tugging at my heart. I’ve not held a woman like this... ever. I’ve had fuck buddies. I’ve had one-night stands. But a deep hold before the fire with a high voltage current moving into my limbs—just from touching her?

  The oven beeps.

  Jolting me from this, this... what? Fantasy? The harsh beeping continues, reminding me of my place in this world. I work for Rockland. I’m here to protect her. Make her obey and ensure her safety. Not be her first... anything.

  I jump up, unsettling our cozy charade. “Soup’s on!” I say, a little too loud. I move quickly, leave my wine behind. It’s clouding my judgement. Something I can no longer afford.

  I grab a towel from the counter. Take the meal from the oven and peel back the foil. The directions say to broil the dish uncovered for five minutes to brown the cheese, but I can’t lose the time it would take. I need my mouth distracted. Now.

  I shovel the chicken onto two plates, each portion large enough for three grown men. I slap the plates down at the bar, throw a fork onto each one, tear a paper towel into makeshift napkins. Grab a glass of water and move to my seat at the bar. She hasn’t even made it into the kitchen yet.

  I start devouring the food, my mouth so full I can’t respond when she politely says, “Thank you.”

  She sits beside me, her arm brushing mine as she does. Those damn prickly tingles dot up on every inch she’s touched. She lifts her fork, taking a delicate bite. Chews, swallows. Dabs those luscious lips with her napkin. “Delicious. Anna Marie’s?”

  I’ve no idea which of her cousins’ wives cooked this one up. I just nod. “Mmm-hmm.” I take another enormous bite.

  She looks at me queerly. “Hungry?”

  I nod emphatically. After a few quiet minutes, an awkward air grows in the room. Vibrating in my ears, a constant reminder of my lust, how close her ripe untouched body is to mine. I’m unused to our silences being uncomfortable. Small talk. I’ll make small talk. “What do you think of the book?”

  She takes a long swig from my water. Drops her fork onto her plate. It lands with a clank. “Ugh. That Darcy. I know at this point in the book I’m supposed to be falling in love with him, but I just can’t. He’s so... so... cocky. I’m halfway through and I just can’t get over what he said about Elizabeth in Chapter Three.” Her eyes meets mine and there are tears pricking at the corners of them. Actual tears brought on by fake characters in a book. A warmness washes over me as she continues, “That she’s not pretty enough to dance with? As if all her worth is trapped in her skin? She’s so brilliant... and the only seventeen-year-old girl confident enough to go back to her friends and laugh off the comment instead of running off to the bathroom to cry by herself. I mean, who says something like that—” Her chin wobbles, the tears threatening to fall.

  My fork is on my plate. I cup her face in my hands.

  Her teary eyes gaze at me, wide in shock. I lean in and as I near, her lids fall heavy. I press my lips to hers. The electricity I felt in my limbs at her gentle touches is nothing compared to the charge as I caress my mouth against hers.

  I pull away. Her eyes open slowly, her gaze meeting mine. Her brown eyes shine, her mouth parting slightly. I say, “He redeems himself.”


  Her brow furrows. “Who?”

  “Darcy. He redeems himself. You’ll forgive him. You’ll see.” I drop my hands from her face. I pick up my fork. Resume my meal. Cast my gaze on the plate before me. As my fork passes my lips, a few lingering tingles disburse.

  She hasn’t moved a muscle. “Oh,” she says. Her tone is breathy, I sneak a side glance and see her fingers trembling as she picks up her fork. “Okay.”

  I’ve just kissed the woman I was hired to keep from men.

  I no longer fear our enemies, because my boss is going to tear me limb from limb.

  * * *

  Adrianna

  I’ve been kissed. I’ve officially been kissed.

  And it was magical. I brush my fingers over my lips, trying to recreate the delicious tingles that danced across them when his mouth was pressed to mine.

  Nothing.

  I sigh. Roll over on my side. The guest bed is comfortable. Decadent even. All white bedding with feather pillows and stacks of down comforters. He’s taken my dress to wash it. I’m wearing nothing but my panties underneath the long tee-shirt he gave me. It smells of soap and I swear there’s a hint of his own masculine scent buried within the fibers.

  I’ll never fall asleep.

  Maybe it’s the wine, but I’m restless. I lie in the bed, my mind wandering places it shouldn’t go. If that is what a kiss feels like, what would... other things feel like? A heat rushes through me, my limbs feeling twitchy and desperate for movement.

  He’s in the room next door. Only a wall separates us.

  Is it the wine making me brave? Or the lingering heat from his kiss?

  I could go to him... I could. Make a proposition. When I told him I’d never dated, I swear there was a look akin to empathy in those emerald eyes. What if he rejects me? Might make for an awkward day tomorrow. The two of us locked up here in this fortress. Trying to ignore one another after my failed attempt.

  But there’s the other possibility. The one where he says yes.

  The idea has me pulsing between my aching thighs. My nipples tighten.

  What if?

  I lift the covers from my body. Slide them to the empty side of the bed. Tiptoe across the floor. Open the door. Turn to my left. Creep down the hall. To find his door is opened. Just a crack, but it’s enough for me to peer in and see him. He’s lying on the bed, his head against the headboard. Legs crossed casually at his ankles. No shirt, his tanned chest exposed above his gray sweats. He’s reading.

  I nudge the door open. It creaks softly, giving me away.

  “What are you doing out of bed?” he asks. He places his book on the nightstand, turning his full attention toward me. I step into the room. He’s silent, his gaze lingering on my body. I take another step toward him. Awakening his tongue from its slumber. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says. But his voice catches as he says it.

  I take another step. I’m close enough to smell the scent of the soap he’s showered with. He opens his mouth to speak again, but now, my fingers are finding the hem of my shirt. Pulling it up and over my head. I toss it on the floor beside me. I stand, bare breasted, wearing nothing but the simple white cotton panties I put on this morning. I lock my gaze on his.

  The hunger in his eyes betrays him. His lips part as his gaze caresses my body, taking me in. Beneath his regard, my skin flushes and my nipples peak. He stares as I bring my fingers to my waist. I pull down my panties, slowly. I feel no shyness, no shame as I step out of them, throwing them down on the shirt. I stand, naked before him. Completely exposed.

  I step toward him and to my relief, he slides over in the bed, making room for me. I lie down beside him. He holds his arm up and I curl against his body, my cheek resting on the warm bare skin of his chest. My finger rises, finding his tattoo. Traces the dark swirls of his markings.

  His arm wraps tighter around me. He runs his fingers up and down the back of my upper arm. He turns toward me, his other hand rests on my belly. Chill bumps dot my flesh, my nipples further hardening from the pressure of his hand.

  I tense with anticipation, eager to see what part of my body his hand will travel to. It moves slowly upward, fingertips trailing across my skin. His hand finds my breast. He cups my flesh. Glides his thumb over my tightening nipple. My back arches, my flesh dotting with tiny bumps. Every hair on my arm stands on end. His mouth finds my ear. His breath is warm and tickles as he says, “Have you ever been touched here?”

  “No,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. He cups my other breast, squeezing gently and I release a deep moan. His mouth traces kisses down my neck as he takes my nipple between his fingers and squeezes gently. I gasp. He shifts beside me, his mouth hovering over mine. My eyes close and I lift my head, pressing my lips to his.

  The kiss ignites every flame of desire in my body. His tongue caresses mine as we wind further around one another. Too soon, he pulls away. Kissing my cheek, my earlobe, my neck.

  His mouth moves lower. Finding my awakened nipple and taking it between his lips. The sensual nature of the gesture hits me in my core. Moisture pools between my legs as my trembling fingers move over his smooth skin.

  He moves lower, his gentle kisses caressing my belly. Heat flushes up from my chest, covering my face. My heart races, my breaths shorten. My eyes close, my head lolls back as he rests his cheek on my stomach. His hand begins wandering up my thigh. Moving toward that pulsing throb between my legs.

  My breath catches in my chest. I can think of nothing but the feel of his perfect fingers as they slide closer. I part my thighs.

  The tip of his finger slides between the swollen lips of my pussy. “How about here?”

  I let out a soft moan he enters me with his finger. My muscles tighten around him, a gush of arousal pooling at his attention. He pumps once, collecting my juices, then his finger slides out. And up. Toward my begging clit. He presses. “And here?”

  I cry out as pleasure travels through my body. His touch is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Tingles dance over my flesh. His tongue lashes out, licking my belly. His slick finger begins to slide up and down over my pussy, then circles my clit. My hips move, gyrating with his rhythm. Every few strokes, he presses his fingertip directly on my aching bud and I feel as though I’m losing my mind. I want to... explode... implode... I want a burst, an explosion, to come forth and wipe out this pressure that is building like steam inside an engine. I ache so much I feel as though I’ll die if I don’t find release. He puts two fingers together and they move faster, harder. Alternating between plunging within me and stretching and fucking my pussy and massaging my clit. I’m feverish, panting, my breaths coming in short hard bursts as the tightening in my core contracts until I feel as though I’m going to erupt.

  “Mother of God!” I scream, arching my back and grabbing his head in my hands as I come. He doesn’t stop moving his hand and coming down from one wave, I begin to ride another. He plunges his finger within me. I gasp, his hand moves faster, harder. My hips are rocking and he’s pumping. Now he’s adding a second finger, and a third. I’m stretching and burning, my mouth gaping wide... and then I feel the weight of his head leave my stomach.

  My mind blanks.

  And now, he’s on all fours, hovering over me. His hand still inside of me, his hot wet mouth wraps around my aching clit. His fingers are in me, filling me, milking my ecstasy from me. His tongue is whipping my clit, his mouth caressing my pussy. A molten heat fills my core, my lower body turned to lava. The coil within me tightens. I feel as if I’ll break, snap in half from within.

  Then the sweet release comes a second time. Stronger than the first. I curl up, my toes curling, my spine curling. I clutch at his shoulders, squeezing his strong muscles with my fingertips, digging my nails into his flesh. He’ll wear the marks of my passion for days. I come in a shuddering burst, and as I do, I call his name. Completely spent, I collapse back onto the bed. I lie there, my eyes opened wide staring at the white ceiling. I’m in shock. I try to catch my breath. To process what w
as just done to my body. My limbs feel heavy, relaxed. A liquid-like sensation akin to a physical form of contentment flows through my body. All of the tension he built is gone, leaving behind a warm glow.

  He’s lying by my side, now. I turn toward him. Reach up, stroke his face. He leans over and kisses me. I taste myself on his lips and it’s so foreign to me, I go to pull away, but his hand is on the back of my head, pulling me in. I resist my prudishness, allowing the kiss to deepen. Our tongues intertwine.

  As we kiss, I feel his cock through his sweats, hardening against my thigh. I jump back in surprise, breaking the kiss, saying, “Oh!” I instantly feel silly, inexperienced.

  Scared.

  And... curious. My fingers go to his waist. Tug at the soft material.

  “Stop.” His hands grab mine.

  Surprised, I look up.

  His face is pained.

  “What is it?”

  “I... can’t. As much as I want to, as beautiful and tempting as you are,” his gaze moves to my breasts, “I can’t.”

  His hands release my wrists. Flush creeps in my cheeks at his rejection. I pull back. “Why not?”

  “I think it’s cruel your family has kept you untouched this long, you’re a very sensual woman,” his thumb strokes my quivering bottom lip, “but taking your virginity...”

  His words trail off. I suddenly feel shame for my nakedness, though I’ve been unclothed this whole time. I find the sheet, tug it up and over my shaking body. I know I shouldn’t feel ashamed, but I do. Shamed that I’m twenty-five and shirk back when I feel the slightest bit of cock. Shamed that I have no idea what to do in this situation or what to say.

  Shamed that he doesn’t want me.

  “I understand.” Tears suddenly prick in my eyes. Crying in front of him would be more humiliation added to his rejection—more than I could possibly bear. As quickly as I can, I gather the sheet around my body, tugging it from beneath him. I wrap it around me like a toga, manage to get out of the bed, standing with as much grace and dignity as I can.