Cosa Nostra: A Steamy Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 3), Nicci Harris [read a book txt] 📗

stains on my chest and a wet patch on my shoulder that I'm pretty sure is drool - maybe orange juice. Using my hands to brush the crumbs off, I mutter angrily to myself, "Pull yourself together, Cassidy."

When I look less like a depressed little pregnant girl who has been sprawled out on her couch for the past few days, drowning her sorrows in Skyrim and junk food, I make my way over to the bedroom door. Opening it, I am immediately greeted by Carter.

I crane my neck to smile up at him. "Hi."

His eyes drop to Max's shirt and then to my bare feet. I wiggle my toes instinctively when his gaze touches them. "Put shoes on. I am taking you for a drive."

I roll my head around my shoulders a little in protest. "I just want to wait here for Max. Maybe he'll be back soon."

Carter's starkly beautiful eyes beg me to listen and accept. "Just a little drive to get you out of the house, hey?"

Sighing in defeat, I nod. "Okay. I'm just going to change my shirt."

I move back into the room and pull on my own shirt, missing the smell of Max as soon as I do, and a pair of ballet flats. We exit through the back door to avoid the press, and as we pull around the house to leave, I duck low in my seat even though the windows are tinted dark and no one can see me. They snap pictures of the car and Carter.

"I feel like I should talk to them, ya know? Give them their story. Maybe they will leave if I do. What do you think?"

"I highly doubt that, Miss. Luca has already spoken to them. They are waiting to interview Max upon his arrival."

I exhale loudly, feeling a pang of anger and resentment that people can't just leave us alone. They want a piece of him. My Max. They can't have it because it isn't available. I am slapping a 'zero vacant spots' sticker up. I don't even have enough of him right now.

Frowning at the media, I wonder how long that has been going on for. I know the boys have been headliners most of their lives and I know Max hates it, but I've never experienced anything like this before. We are going through something hard and personal and. . . Max is going through something - something life-changing - and he doesn't need this. . . this. . . shit. Yep, shit. And fuck them. So. . . yeah. My baby daddy is in jail, so I can say that now, thank you, Toni.

I stare out the window, scowling silently as the world passes by. After about fifteen minutes, we pass over into Brussman and I feel a flitter of happiness move through me, being in my own city again. A quiet city. The car pulls onto a street and I sit up, staring at the beautiful old houses on the big country lots. This part of Brussman was developed first. It has a rural feel and look, but it's only fifteen minutes from the city centre. As we roll along, the speed bumps keeping us at a slow pace, I realise that I recognise this suburb. It's about fifteen minutes from my home - funnily enough, both my old home and my new one.

Right in the middle, actually.

When Carter slows to a stop, I frown questioningly at him in the rear-view mirror. "Why have we stopped?" I see his eyes smile.

Warmth rushes through me, heating up every cell in my body.

In my soul.

My heart leaps when realisation hits me. "Is he here?"

He's here!

Flying from the car, I search the street and properties, body spinning, eyes bouncing around. Nothing. Beside me is a big empty block of land covered in long green weeds that have surely been there for a while. There is a steep incline and . . . My heart pirouettes and aches and I let myself cry when I see Max standing at the top. With his hands in his pockets, casual stance, and thick muscular body, there isn't a woman alive that wouldn't feel his presence like a flutter settling right between their thighs.

I rush to him, laughing through my tears when I see him scowl at me as I run.

"Stop fucking running," he barks. But he's not angry. Not at all.

Controlling butthead.

My feet can't take me fast enough and then I catapult into his arms. He catches me behind the thighs, moulding me around him until my legs band his waist and our bodies press so tightly that they almost fuse together. I wish they would.

Our noses touch. Lips connect. His tongue moves inside me with aggression, licking, devouring, claiming. My palms cup his cheeks and I accept it, accept the need. The yearning. It's the best sensation ever. I can feel his heart's pounding rhythm, a sure sign of his passionate, desperate, longing response to seeing me. Holding me. Mine matches his as we kiss breathlessly, with a frenzied possessiveness that isn't safe and guarded but instead dangerous and utterly vulnerable.

"When did you get out?" I pant against his lips.

"This morning."

I freeze, pushing away from his chest to stare into his penetrating stormy-blue eyes. "This morning? I've been waiting for you. I've been worried. I've been. . . kinda messy."

A hint of a grin draws his lips out. "Messy?"

"Yes," I admit through a light smile. "Why didn't you come straight home?"

"I had a few things to sort out." He holds me effortlessly with one hand under my backside and feeds his other up through my hair. His brows bunch for a second, then he pulls a Cheeto out from my knotted strawberry-blonde strands. My cheeks ignite with shame. I cover my blushing face, which is already wet from my tears and hot from my embarrassment.

I grin into my palms. "Oh my gawd. Kill me."

He laughs, deep and real, and the sound touches my heart. Lowering my hands, I