Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
His tongue dances across my bottom lip before he licks into my mouth.
My knees tremble, threatening to buckle.
I push closer to him, eager to soak up every single second, every single sensation. His erection presses against my belly, sending a wave of heat through me. My mind clouds, reality threatening to spin away entirely. Oh, my goodness. He's so hard. Doesn't it hurt?
"Yes," he growls, alerting me to the fact that I said it out loud. "It hurts like a motherfucker, Magic. It's been hurting since the moment I set eyes on you."
"M-me too," I admit in a whisper.
"Yeah?" He kisses me again, running his hands across my body. His palms glide across my nipples, pulling a cry from my lips. "Does it hurt here, sweet Snow?"
"Yes!" I gasp, my head falling back as my core clenches.
Dimitri chuckles, slipping one hand down my abdomen. My cheeks flame with color when he thrusts it between my legs, running his fingers against my center. "And here, Magic?" he growls, his voice a gritty rasp. "Does it hurt here too?"
"Y-yes," I sob. "So much."
"I'll take care of it for you," he murmurs, flicking his tongue against my bottom lip again. "But not until you know you belong here. Not until you know you're mine." He slowly slips his hand from between my thighs.
I whine in protest, my core clenching.
"I know, baby," he croons, pressing his lips to each corner of my mouth in a gentle kiss. "I know. I fucking hate leaving you in need. But I'm a criminal, not a complete asshole. You haven't eaten in who knows how long, and you're covered in scratches. As much as I want to take you where you're itching to go, you need food and a shower more than anything right now."
My stomach growls at the mention of food.
Dimitri chuckles. "See? I need to take care of you. Why don't you go shower while I have dinner brought up? We can talk while we eat."
"Okay." I hesitate. "Um…I have nothing to put on."
"There are clean clothes for you in the bathroom, Magic. Belle brought some things up for you," he says.
"Belle?"
"My uncle's wife." He gently nudges me toward a door on the far side of the room. "Go shower, little one. I'll let the dogs out."
I hesitate for a brief moment, and then shake my head to clear it and stumble toward the bathroom, grateful that he's taking charge because I have no clue what just happened or what I'm doing. I'm in way over my head. But I think I like it.
Chapter Five
Dimitri
"Wait!" Snow whispers, grabbing my hand to pull me to a stop outside of Dante's study. Her wide, worried blue eyes meet mine. "Um, what am I supposed to call him? Does he have a title or something? I don't think Mr. Mafia Boss Sir is very appropriate, do you?"
I chuckle in genuine amusement. "His name is Dante, Snow. That's what you call him," I murmur, stroking her cheek to calm her down. She's been freaking out ever since she finished eating and I told her we were going to talk to Dante. I don't want her to have to tell her story more than once, but he needs to know what's going on, especially since we left a trail of bodies in our wake last night.
He's not thrilled about that, but it is what it is. We did what we had to do to protect Snow. When Sheriff Dillon Armstrong comes sniffing around—and he inevitably will because he's actually good at his job—we'll deal with the situation. But it'd be real fucking helpful if we didn't have to lie about what happened for once. We killed the bastards in self-defense, which is still legal in this state. They shot first, after showing up to murder an innocent girl. He would have shot them too.
"Dante," she murmurs, taking a breath. "Okay. Mr. Dante."
"No, Magic. Not Mr. Dante or Mr. Arakas. Just call him Dante."
"Would you go to London to meet the royal family and call them Charles and Camilla?" she demands, scrunching her face up at me. "No, because it's disrespectful, Dimitri."
Christ, she's cute when she's worked up.
"He's my uncle, not a monarch," I remind her gently, trying not to laugh because I know she's serious about this. "He just happens to run a not-always-above-board empire. That doesn't make him royalty."
"Fine, but if he doesn't like me because you told me to call him Dante, I'm going to be mad at you," she says, turning back to the study door.
I place my hand on her shoulder, spinning her back to face me. "You're worried about him not liking you?"
She peers up at me from beneath her lashes, her cheeks stained pink. "Yes. He's your uncle," she whispers. "I want him to like me."