Cameron Hart

I also want to curl up in his lap and dissolve into him. I want to stitch together his broken heart and make it my own.

Our last real conversation was three days ago when I basically kicked her out of my office for inviting me to dinner. My response was automatic. I’ve turned down similar offers from employees and board members for years. But Harlow isn’t just another employee.

As soon as I told her no, I saw the light drain from her eyes. A sharp pain threaded through my goddamn soul when she folded in on herself. She looked at me the same way she looked at her father on her first day, which nearly killed me.

I want to taste her ruby-red lips, swallow down her cries of pleasure as I drag my tongue down her body, and make her mine in every goddamn way. I also want to wrap my little trick rider up in a blanket and massage her aching muscles while she sips hot chocolate. I have the insane urge to draw her a bath and wash every inch of her before tucking her into bed and crawling in next to her

I smack her ass and pull her hair, tugging her head back as I lean forward, biting down on her shoulder. “You can, and you will. Take it. Fucking take what your daddy gives you.”

I slap her ass again, making her squirt all over me.

“Daddy! It hurts, it hurts so good, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”

“Jesus Christ,” I grit out, riding her ass hard with everything I am.

In my line of business, love is a liability. A weakness. Yet, every day Thalia is under my protection, I’m drawn closer to her warmth and soft-spoken words. This woman might just be my salvation

I can’t keep Thalia as mine, but I can protect her in exchange for her honesty about what she saw last night. That’s all. It has to be all.

Then why does something in me break when the first tear falls down her cheek? Why do I want to wipe it away and hold her in my arms?

Her touch ruins me. Her soft skin and tender trust cast a spell over me, and I have a hard time letting go of this angel once she’s standing on her own.

Green eyes filled with vulnerability blink up at me, and I struggle to take a full breath. What is this woman doing to me? Why do I have the sudden urge to burn the whole fucking world to the ground if it meant she never had to shed another tear?

Ultimately, I decide to place her in the room next to mine. I pull the blankets back before gently laying Thalia on the queen-sized canopy bed. I carefully slip her sneakers off, tossing them into the hallway so I can throw them out with the garbage. She’ll have a new wardrobe when she wakes up.

Tucking the comforter around her, I have a difficult time not smelling her hair or kissing the side of her neck where I see her pulse thrumming. It takes a considerable effort to tear myself away from Thalia, but I manage to walk the fifteen steps into the hallway before closing the door.

I’m not sure how to answer because, yes, it should scare me. But truthfully? Some twisted part of me likes having a monster on my side. I’ve been pitted against them my whole life, and now I have the biggest, baddest one promising me his protection.

“Are you in the mafia?” I whisper, nibbling on my bottom lip as I wait for his answer.

Romeo chuckles darkly, the deep vibrations rolling through his body and into mine. Every nerve ending sizzles and pops as his body moves against me.

“I am the mafia, little girl,” he rasps, dragging his nose and lips down the column of my throat as his hands tighten around my hips.

He nips at my pulse point, causing me to shudder and let out a breathy cry. Romeo presses his warm, wet tongue against the sore spot, licking once before placing a kiss on top.

I shouldn’t be this turned on. I shouldn’t feel this all-consuming pressure in my lower belly or the incessant throbbing between my thighs. My hands ball into fists, and I clutch Romeo’s shirt as he scrapes his teeth down the other side of my neck.

“You taste too good, bella,” he whispers onto my skin.