Page 125 of Obsessed by My Ex's Mafia Uncle

“Talk to me.” I press my lips harder against hers.

She sucks in a breath, but instead of pulling away, she leans into it.

That’s all I need.

I take it as my cue, deepening the kiss. The moment my lips part, hers meet them halfway.

I kiss her like I’m trying to get through to something she’s holding back, like there are words that won’t come out any other way.

The kiss escalates.

Her hands are everywhere at once, fisting my shirt, sliding up my shoulders, gripping. Mine answer without thinking, pulling her closer until there’s no space left between us.

She lets out a sound into my mouth, and it fuels it. Drives it further.

My tongue finds hers, taking and claiming. She meets it head-on, matching the urgency, the hunger, the refusal to slow down.

Teeth graze. Breath tangles. Bodies heat up.

We break apart.

“Stop…” She tries, but it doesn’t sound solid.

Her fingers drag through my hair, tugging enough to pull a reaction out of me, and I give it, the sound leaving me guttural this time.

“I hate this,” she breathes, her voice shaking, her hands pulling at my hair. “I hate this so much.”

“I know,” I murmur against her mouth, catching her lips between my teeth.

My hand slides to her waist, pulling her into me, and cupping her ass.

“Robert…” My name leaves her like a warning and a surrender tangled together.

I don’t give it room to become either.

I guide her back, fumble with the van's door until it gives. And it’s instinct more than thought the way I push it wider, theway we stumble into the back, knocking lightly against stacked boxes and ribbon rolls.

Something falls but neither of us cares.

She’s still shaking her head, still whispering something that sounds like protest, like frustration, like she’s arguing with herself more than me.

“This is not…” She tries, her breath shaky. “This is not what we should be doing…”

“I know,” I breathe into her mouth, my voice rougher now, less certain.

She’s in heat for me. On fire. I can see that in her eyes as she lowers her back to the leather, her chest heaving, breath slipping out of her mouth.

My hands drag up her skirt, bunching it around her waist, while my mouth traces wet kisses to the corner of her lips, along her jaw, down the curve of her neck, catching her pulse as she moans, throwing her head back.

I find her underwear with one hand, shifting it aside, dragging my fingers along her bud just to feel how damp she is.

“So ready for me…” My other hand works on my pants hastily. “Always so ready for me, Bonbon.”

I’m rock hard. So hard it hurts. Blood rushing, not just from the need, but from the absurdity of it. From how much control we lose around each other. From how raw we are when it comes to this.

How common sense disappears. How everything else comes second to this pull, this want.

I wrap her legs around my waist, lifting her slightly off the seat, putting her into that awkward, contorted position.