Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect #5)

Her eyes find mine and lock on, but her lips remain puckered. I lightly squeeze my fingers around her neck and bend my head until we’re face-to-face.

“Smile. At. Me.” I pound into her—once, twice, three times. It’s like air to me, her smile. I need to see it. If I don’t, I’m going to lose my mind. “Smile, you stubborn woman.”

Milene squints her eyes at me, and then she smiles. It’s like the first ray of light after a thousand hours of a long night, piercing the darkness inside my chest and filling me with warmth. I kiss that stubborn mouth and enjoy the feel of my cock as it stretches her inner walls until her pussy spasms around my length.

She screams as I push my dick even deeper into her, and it drives me more insane. I slide out and thrust back inside, feeling her body shake. I bite her chin and graze my teeth down the side of her neck.

“I want you to smile at me every day,” I say next to her ear and slam into her again. “Every.” Slam. “Fucking.” Slam. “Day.”

“Why?” she breathes out, then moans as she comes.

Because I need it. Because every time she does, something happens inside my chest. Because it breathes air into my lungs and makes my heart race.

“Because I’m ordering you to,” I bark, staring her down.

She watches me for a few seconds, then squeezes her legs around me and bursts out laughing.

I take a deep breath and thrust into her one final time, unable to keep my orgasm at bay as I pump weeks of myfrustration into her. Not for one second do I take my eyes off her smiling mouth.

“Are you okay, cara?” Salvatore reaches out and traces the back of his hand along the line of my jaw.

Nope, I am not okay. My legs are still trembling slightly, my pussy is sore, and my whole body aches all over. The best feeling ever. “I hope I’ll be able to walk tomorrow,” I say and lift my head off Salvatore’s chest to find him watching me.

I place the tip of my finger at the corner of his mouth and push upward slightly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Salvatore smile, so I don’t understand why he seems to be fixated on me doing so. He almost “sextroyed” me for it earlier.

Salvatore bites the tip of my finger, then kisses it. “I will carry you around with me if necessary.”

“Piggyback?”

“If you insist.”

I imagine how his men will react and laugh. “You are such a contradiction, Tore.”

“Does that pose a problem?”

“No. I kind of like your strange ways.” Moving my hand upward, I thread my fingers through his hair. “When did you start to go gray?”

“A few years ago. It runs in the family.”

“Your father’s side?”

“No. I got it from Ilaria.” He tilts his head to the side,giving me greater access to his neck. “I still remember the day she discovered the first gray hair on her head. I found her crying in the bathroom. I was sure someone had died. She was twenty-nine, I think.”

I raise my eyebrows. “From what I’ve seen, she comes across as a very composed person.”

“It’s a front,” he says. “She’s very well versed in pretending, since she’s been doing it for years. My father and her were a bad match. I’m glad she has Cosimo now. He makes her happy, which means I can’t kill him if he fucks up.”

He says this as though he’s reading the weather report aloud. Facts. Conclusions. Zero emotions. For a second, I think he’s joking, but he looks down at me, and I see in his eyes he’s deadly serious.

“What happened to your father?” I ask.

“He was killed during a Family disagreement.”

I sigh and lower my head back to his chest. “My father was killed, too. Four years ago.”

“I know. It was the fuckup with the Bratva.”

“Yeah. He almost killed Bianca’s husband.” I shudder. “I hate Cosa Nostra.”