Mafia King: A Mafia Royals Novella, Rachel Dyken [i am malala young readers edition .txt] 📗

the hell did I say about underwear?”

“Forgot it all at home.” She burst out laughing as I gave her body another shake. “Hey!”

“Bedtime,” I rasped.

“What, I have a curfew now? God, you’re so depressingly oldddddd.” She kicked her feet as her heels nearly fell to the ground. “Hey, let’s go get a tattoo.”

“And that’s why you’re going to bed.”

“Killjoy.”

“Yes, but you’re alive. So, you’re welcome.”

“I’m finnneeee!” She sighed. “Nobody’s tried anything since that threat I didn’t even know about…a year ago.” She stilled.

“Something to confess?”

“I think about you when I shower?”

I tripped on my next step. “Not funny.”

“What makes you think I’m lying? Maybe I should buy a vibrator and name it Tank just to mess with you at night, screaming your name. I bet that would kill you, your name falling from my lips only to know it’s a robot giving me pleas—”

I slapped her ass so hard my hand stung.

“OW!” She wiggled. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Good.” I slid the keycard and pushed the door open with my foot, then stomped into the master bedroom, tossing her onto the bed.

She bounced up, down, back up, and then glared. Her blue hair stuck to her lip gloss as she shoved it out of the way, and then she crossed her arms, her breasts nearly spilling out of whatever the hell that tiny scrap of black material was.

The plunging neckline went nearly to her belly button, and she was having trouble covering her thighs.

“Bedtime,” I growled.

She leaned back on her hands and crossed her legs. “You joining me, Tank?”

“Yes.” I peeled my shirt over my head and tossed it to the floor. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

Her expression went from confident to pale, then back again. “W-what?”

“You’re not…scared, are you, Tiny?”

She scowled. “Never. I just don’t want to catch any STDs from your dick. If it touches me, I’m cutting it off with a blunt knife!”

“Sounds exciting. Tell me more.” I yawned. “Now, do I need to help you get your pajamas on, or can we sleep? You’re exhausting.”

“Don’t you mean you’re exhausted?”

“Nope, I said it right.” I flashed a smile. “Well?”

She stood and lifted her chin, then walked over to where I’d thrown my shirt and pulled it over her head. It fell to her knees, and then she very slowly pulled down the straps of her dress and shimmied out of it until it dropped to the floor.

I could see her nipples through my white shirt.

“Ready,” she announced.

“You don’t believe in pajamas?” I shifted on my feet.

She took a step toward me and patted me on the stomach. “I sleep in the nude…you’re welcome.”

I couldn’t contain the groan that left my lips just like she seemed unable to contain the blush that stained her cheeks.

I shoved down my jeans and crawled into bed in nothing but my black boxer briefs, and waited as a dull roar pulsed in my ears.

She was in the bathroom.

Minutes later, the lights turned off, and she crawled into bed beside me.

In my shirt.

A mere foot from my arms.

My hands twitched.

She sighed.

I sighed.

And I hated that every part of me that was male came alive—burned to reach across that mattress and pull her against me.

My life or hers.

That was what I’d been cryptically told by all sides tonight.

Me.

Or this small, terrifying woman sleeping next to me with her veiled threats, blue hair, constant mockery, and gorgeous blue eyes.

I always wondered what it was like when people knew they were going to die. Was it sad? Depressing as hell? Or did it make them come alive?

Because I felt alive.

In that moment.

I wanted to touch, lick, experience. Please.

Because there was a great possibility that when she boarded the plane back home, a certain FBI agent would no longer be with her.

Me.

Her.

I sighed. “You,” I whispered. “Every time.”

Chapter Eight

Kartini

“You,” he whispered. “Every time.”

I froze.

My eyes had been closed.

But he had to know I wasn’t asleep yet. How could I possibly be asleep with my body humming the way it was? He was so close.

After wanting him from afar.

And now…he was in my bed.

I sobered immediately when he shifted.

Held my breath when the mattress dipped.

And then a strong arm jerked me against a warm body.

I opened my mouth to say something snarky when Tank whispered in my ear, his breath hot, his tongue touching skin. “For once…don’t.”

But, of course, I did. “Are you protecting me or holding me, Tank?”

He nuzzled my hair a bit with his nose. My lips parted on a little gasp of surprise as he whispered, “A little bit of both.”

I gulped. “You, um...brought your gun to bed.”

A dark chuckle and then. “No.”

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Mouth dry, I just lay there with his giant arm pinned across my body, his breath in my hair, and his very aroused body pressed up against me.

I could literally feel every pulsing heartbeat of that giant non-gun in his pants.

And it seemed the more I felt, the more I wanted to feel.

I wiggled a bit.

He bit back a curse. “Bad idea.”

“Or best idea I’ve ever had, and we can blame it on intoxication.”

“Sober.”

I sighed. “Same.”

He let out a little growl. “Good to know that’s the only way you’d screw me, Tiny.” He pulled me tighter against him. “Now, stop wiggling and sleep.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“One more thing—”

“If you say one more word, I’m gagging you, and it won’t be the fun type of gag where you have a safe word.”

I perked up. “Should we make a safe word just in case?”

He cursed.

“Sea turtle.” I decided with a cheerful sigh. “They’re innocent enough and—”

His hand moved up and cupped over my mouth.

I kind of liked it.

In a weird way.

How the hell did his hand smell so good, anyway?

Was that lotion?

Tank?

Or just…man?

I shivered.

“Felt that,” he hissed.

“It was involuntary,” I snapped.

His chuckle made me want to stab him more than kiss him. So arrogant. How rude! “You know, you don’t need to hold me.”

Not that I could get away if I wanted to, but I wasn’t about to admit defeat