Taken by the Italian Mafia: A Dark City Romance by Sadie Black, BWWM United Page A
Book: Taken by the Italian Mafia: A Dark City Romance by Sadie Black, BWWM United
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Sadie Black, BWWM United
Ads: Link
near the bond that he felt with her, he knew that his secrets would be kept safe.
----
Chapter Fourteen
Whitney
W hen Whitney opened her eyes , the room was bathed in morning light. She began to piece together where she was and all that had happened the night before. An abduction. An attempted murder. A near rape. All of it seemed so distant now, as though it had happened to her in another life instead of in another day.
By all rights she should have been terrified, and yet Whitney couldn't bring herself to feel fear when it came to Rocco. The way he'd protected her and kept her safe from Arturo's evil was more telling of his character than the man she'd encountered behind The Avenue . It was foolish, but Whitney wanted to believe that beneath it all, Rocco was good.
As Whitney's sense of surrounding returned, she realized that Rocco still spooned her. Rocco mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his grip around her waist. With a shift of his hips, he brought himself closer. In their new position, the lower half of his body cupped Whitney's ass. Usually she wouldn't have cared, but this morning Rocco had morning wood. The hardened length of his shaft pressed against the back of her jeans with insistence. Whitney's thoughts returned to his nude form, dripping wet from the shower. The member pushing against her felt way bigger than what she'd seen, and what she'd seen was already impressive. Whoever Rocco took to bed at night had to be satisfied every time.
In this case, Whitney thought with a tiny thrill, she was the one Rocco had taken to bed.
Heat rising to her cheeks, imagination twisting through scenarios, Whitney thought about what would have happened between them if the circumstances were different. If the handsome man had come into The Avenue and stayed at the bar, what would have gone differently? She imagined Rocco staying to chat, charming and slick. When some douchebag drunk slurred at her about her skin tone or sex, Rocco would've beat him down with the same venom he'd used in his fight with Arturo. Then, like it was nothing, he would have grabbed Whitney's hand and guided her from behind the bar and into the club as Cassandra looked on in awe. In the back alley, where the hit had taken place, Rocco would have pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. The lingering taste of coffee liqueur would cling to his lips, and she'd melt into him despite the cold. And then, when the kiss heated and their bodies began to crave more, he would have run his hand down her side, along her thigh, and inward until...
Whitney closed her eyes as the fantasy continued. Need spread through her lower abdomen and soaked into her groin. Tingling with desire, body craving the cock that pushed against her, she pushed back against it and rubbed in slow, small movements of her hips. If only the night had played out differently. If only she hadn't been dragged into this mess.
Then Rocco moaned.
Terrified that he would wake up to find her rubbing against him like a cat in heat, Whitney pulled away and rolled over. With any luck, he wouldn't know what she was doing. She'd pretend she never felt the erection that had inspired her imagination and left her drenched at the thought of his body.
Rocco woke up.
Blue eyes like sapphires stared into hers, but lacked the intensity and cold calculation they boasted during the day. Until Rocco woke up in full, the killer inside wouldn't surface, and the years of emotional restraint he'd built up wouldn't set in. For now, he was raw, pure, and unapologetically beautiful.
Whitney pressed her lips together and kept her eyes on his. What was it she saw in those blue eyes? Whitney thought she knew, but was too shy to acknowledge it. It was adoration, affection, a kind of connection far deeper than a mobster was supposed to share with his hostage. And although she was reluctant to admit it, Whitney felt as though she returned those same emotions, and that Rocco could read her like a
----
Chapter Fourteen
Whitney
W hen Whitney opened her eyes , the room was bathed in morning light. She began to piece together where she was and all that had happened the night before. An abduction. An attempted murder. A near rape. All of it seemed so distant now, as though it had happened to her in another life instead of in another day.
By all rights she should have been terrified, and yet Whitney couldn't bring herself to feel fear when it came to Rocco. The way he'd protected her and kept her safe from Arturo's evil was more telling of his character than the man she'd encountered behind The Avenue . It was foolish, but Whitney wanted to believe that beneath it all, Rocco was good.
As Whitney's sense of surrounding returned, she realized that Rocco still spooned her. Rocco mumbled something in his sleep and tightened his grip around her waist. With a shift of his hips, he brought himself closer. In their new position, the lower half of his body cupped Whitney's ass. Usually she wouldn't have cared, but this morning Rocco had morning wood. The hardened length of his shaft pressed against the back of her jeans with insistence. Whitney's thoughts returned to his nude form, dripping wet from the shower. The member pushing against her felt way bigger than what she'd seen, and what she'd seen was already impressive. Whoever Rocco took to bed at night had to be satisfied every time.
In this case, Whitney thought with a tiny thrill, she was the one Rocco had taken to bed.
Heat rising to her cheeks, imagination twisting through scenarios, Whitney thought about what would have happened between them if the circumstances were different. If the handsome man had come into The Avenue and stayed at the bar, what would have gone differently? She imagined Rocco staying to chat, charming and slick. When some douchebag drunk slurred at her about her skin tone or sex, Rocco would've beat him down with the same venom he'd used in his fight with Arturo. Then, like it was nothing, he would have grabbed Whitney's hand and guided her from behind the bar and into the club as Cassandra looked on in awe. In the back alley, where the hit had taken place, Rocco would have pushed her up against the wall and kissed her hard. The lingering taste of coffee liqueur would cling to his lips, and she'd melt into him despite the cold. And then, when the kiss heated and their bodies began to crave more, he would have run his hand down her side, along her thigh, and inward until...
Whitney closed her eyes as the fantasy continued. Need spread through her lower abdomen and soaked into her groin. Tingling with desire, body craving the cock that pushed against her, she pushed back against it and rubbed in slow, small movements of her hips. If only the night had played out differently. If only she hadn't been dragged into this mess.
Then Rocco moaned.
Terrified that he would wake up to find her rubbing against him like a cat in heat, Whitney pulled away and rolled over. With any luck, he wouldn't know what she was doing. She'd pretend she never felt the erection that had inspired her imagination and left her drenched at the thought of his body.
Rocco woke up.
Blue eyes like sapphires stared into hers, but lacked the intensity and cold calculation they boasted during the day. Until Rocco woke up in full, the killer inside wouldn't surface, and the years of emotional restraint he'd built up wouldn't set in. For now, he was raw, pure, and unapologetically beautiful.
Whitney pressed her lips together and kept her eyes on his. What was it she saw in those blue eyes? Whitney thought she knew, but was too shy to acknowledge it. It was adoration, affection, a kind of connection far deeper than a mobster was supposed to share with his hostage. And although she was reluctant to admit it, Whitney felt as though she returned those same emotions, and that Rocco could read her like a
Similar Books
