Dirty Sexy Saint

Chapter Forty Two

Alessandro Maurizio

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I let out a yawn as I awoke from one of the best nights of sleep of my life. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this refreshed after a night's sleep. My dreams always left me feeling spent and tired when I woke up.

I went to stretch, only to find out that there was a weight on me. I opened my eyes, seeing Jordan laying on my chest, looking peaceful and innocent when she was anything, but those.

I frowned slightly. Was she the reason I didn't have any bad dreams today? But this wasn't the first time we were sharing a bed. We'd been sharing a bed since the day we arrived in Italy.

Thinking back on it now, since sleeping with her, my dreams had dulled down. They were no longer vivid images of the death of my parents and the rape of my mother, but only not being able to find them.

This time though, if I had any bad dream, I couldn't remember it. I sighed, putting my hand under my head as I stared blankly at the ceiling. I didn't know how to move away from her because I didn't want to interrupt her sleep.

It was hard to ignore her plump breasts pressing against my chest and her bare pussy rubbing my thigh. Maybe, I should've dressed her up in a shirt after cleaning her up last night.

As I stared at her face, everything Pat said yesterday came back to me. It was confirmed; I did have feelings for her because that was the only explanation for how I acted toward her in general. He was right. She was the only girl who dared to tell me 'fuck you' countless times.

She was the only woman I'd killed men for. She was the only one I was possessive over. She was the only woman whose safety I obsessed over. She was the only woman I addressed with Italian endearments consistently. From the very beginning, it had felt right calling her those. I hadn't thought much about it back then.

I wouldn't say I hated the realization, but I didn't entirely like it either. Love was a weakness, there was no doubt, and she could easily bring me down if these stupid feelings —as Pat called it — were to keep growing.

Another reason I couldn't accept it was that Jordan was manipulative as fuck. Sometimes, I could read through her, but there were times when I didn't have any idea what was going through her mind as she carried out her actions.

She could be acting infatuated with me because she didn't want me to continue keeping her hostage. She could simply be playing me; it was that easy for her. Her body couldn't lie though, but that could only be lust, nothing more.

"Fuck," I breathed out quietly. What was she turning me into? She was already making me think twice about myself. I had never doubted myself. I had an insane amount of confidence that was needed if I wanted to run such a big organization as the mafia. How could a tiny college brat change that?

I released another curse when she started getting restless on me, ending up rubbing her pussy up and down my thigh. As if my morning hardness wasn't bad enough.

I watched her carefully. Her breathing wasn't as even as it had been when I'd woken up at first. I chuckled. This was the exact reason why I was wary of this woman. She was awake and acting like she was chasing a release in her sleep.

"I know you're awake, sweetheart."

She opened one eye and peered up at me, then she opened the second one and gave me a blinding grin that had my heart beating faster than usual. "Oops, busted."

I sucked in a sharp breath at her beautiful smile. It was too damn early for this. I wasted no time in turning us around, so I was above her. "You sneaky little bitch," I murmured, taking her lips in mine for a kiss, and not caring about morning breath.