The Mafia and Her ✔

Chapter 37

"About damn time," Izan exclaimed once he saw me enter the living room and opened his arms like a toddler in need of affection.

Camila and Carlos dropped me off after the two men's stunt. Jolene had an urgent call from her New York company, so she left with a deadly expression. I didn't want to be on the receiving end of her wrath. She looked like a cinnamon roll but could kill anyone who disrespected her.

I took off my shoes and stretched. I fell on Izan's body, seeing as he was lying on his back, watching the news.

Old fart.

I wrapped my arms around his torso and buried my face in the crook of his neck. He embraced me tightly, and I sighed in relief. I missed his touch. I was getting way too clingy for my own good. But he was clingier.

Why does clingier sound weird?

"What's wrong?" he asked when I sighed again, remembering what happened at the mall. I shook my head and remained silent. He nudged my shoulder, but I was being stubborn. "If you don't tell me, I'll throw your new flower in the garbage," he warned, and I instantly jumped from his embrace.

"You wouldn't dare!" I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms in a challenge, and he grinned lazily.

"Wanna bet?" He started moving toward the window where I placed the flowerpot, and I jumped on his back and covered his eyes. He stopped moving and gently touched my hands. "Vera, remove your hands. You will hurt yourself."

"But you will kill my flower!" I whined and heard him chuckle.

"Did you really think I would ever ruin a thing that belongs to you?" he asked, and out of nowhere, he grabbed my arms and flipped me over so I was facing him. I shrieked at the surprise and wrapped my legs around his waist. "But seriously though, what's wrong? Who do I need to kill?" His tone became deadly, and I shivered at the intensity of his gaze. 

It warmed my core. Down there. It was way too hot.

Verena, you horny dog.

"Promise me you will remain calm!" I bargained, and he nodded and sat on the couch with me on his lap. It took me a moment to form my words, and I finally told him about the two men at the mall and what Dexter tried to do.

When I finished retelling my soap opera episode two, he closed his eyes, and his chest fell and rose rapidly. I knew he was angry but hoped he didn't lash out. "What are you thinking about?" I whispered and stroked his cheek as gently as possible.

He tightened his grip on my hips, and I fidgeted on his lap. I was so nervous about his reaction that I didn't realize what I was rubbing my thighs against. "Stop moving." His demand made me freeze and curse my luck in Swedish. I tried to play it cool and kissed his forehead. 

"Why didn't you call me?"

"And what?" I rolled my eyes. I expected this, but I thanked him for remaining as calm as he could. "Go on a rampage and waste your energy on insignificant people? I- we need to stop Dexter, and I have a plan."

He kissed my nose and raked his fingers through my hair. His touch was so therapeutic. "I'm listening," he whispered, planting warm kisses along my jawline and neck.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus, but he was making it mission impossible. "Dexter cares..." I lost my words when he sucked on my collarbone. It was too intense, so I gripped his shirt and enjoyed the moment for a bit.

"Keep going." I could have sworn I felt him smirk on my skin. He was doing it on purpose. He was railing me up so I could ask for more. 

I was annoyed and bothered, so I roughly grabbed his head so he could look at me, cupped his cheeks, and slammed my lips on his.