Maid for the Hitman: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Flora Ferrari (summer beach reads TXT) 📖

easily open those lips and start sucking on that pert little finger.

“Mom’s asleep,” she whispers. “I think Harold is, too.”

I chuckle quietly, striding over to her.

“It’s only just gone four and the whole house is asleep, eh? Maybe fate’s trying to tell us something. It wants us to be alone.”

She smiles radiantly, lifting her hands and grabbing onto the back of my neck. Her warmth travels through me, making parts of me burn and other parts tight with the need to do more than hold her.

“How did the meeting go?” she asks anxiety dancing across her eyes.

It went well, I want to roar. Don’t worry about it. You never have to worry about anything.

But the idea of lying to her settles like acid on my mind, eating through to the core, telling me it’s wrong.

I sigh and give her an outline of the meeting.

Her mouth falls open when I tell her about Vito’s veiled threat.

“Do you think he’s going to come here? Or send someone here?”

“Even if he does,” I say, “they won’t be able to get inside these walls without me knowing. They’re too tall and sheer to climb and, even if they try, I’ve got sensors that will alert me.”

I smooth my hands down her hips and squeeze her there, the perfect fullness of her.

“Let’s not worry about that. We’ve got each other. They wouldn’t dare cross me.”

“They’re the Mafia, Ryland,” she whispers. “You saw my neighborhood. People talk in places like that. Everybody’s got a cousin or a friend who’s a criminal. The mob – Vito Franzese especially – don’t let people get away with disrespecting them. That’s what I’ve heard.”

I squeeze her harder, pulling her against me, enveloping her so she can feel shielded by me. It’s the way I’d hug her if I had to take a bullet for her, turning the broadness of my back against the attack.

“I’d do anything to keep you safe,” I growl. “There’s no line I wouldn’t cross. You don’t have to be afraid. I need you. I need you to have my babies.”

She giggles, but there’s a sad shiver in the noise, as though a sob could just as easily break through the crackling tension in her breath.

“That should sound crazy,” she whispers.

“Stop worrying about what things should be,” I smirk. “Start savoring how they are right now. I’m going to savor this perfect body of yours.”

I slide my hands around to her ass, feeling the eagerness of her as she pushes against me, arching her back so I have better access to that wet, needy slit.

It’s like she can’t help it. Even as her naïve virginal eyes flit downward, her body responds to me, shaping against the pressure of my touch.

“My mom…”

I grin like the crazed wolf I am and then remove my hand.

Taking a step back, I let out a shivering growling sigh, the sort of sigh a bear makes when he’s interrupted mid-meal.

“I don’t want to talk about Vito or the mob or anything that isn’t you or me,” I snarl. “Go to your room. Get changed into the dress I left for you. And meet me in the main dining hall. I’ll have Harold cook for us.”

“Won’t he mind?” she asks.

I smirk, nodding down the hallway.

Harold is standing there, a little sleepy-eyed from his nap. He runs a hand through his tufted hair and then stands up straighter.

“Afternoon, sir,” he says. “Would you and the lady like something to eat?”

Rosie giggles and smiles at me, her whole face lighting up.

“That’s so freaky.”

“What is?” Harold asks.

“We were just talking about whether or not you’d mind making us some food,” Rosie laughs. “And then you just appeared.”

“A good butler knows when he is needed, ma’am.”

“I thought you were a nurse?” Rosie asks.

“I’m both,” he says. “I specialize in in-home care. Let me see if your mother needs anything, and then I will make you both a lovely meal. I have a little request for her, come to think of it.”

“You’re a good man, Harold,” I say with feeling.

He bows and turns away, striding down the hallway.

My woman spins to me, her mouth falling open.

“I swear fate is playing some crazy games with us right now,” she says.

“It is,” I say matter of fact.

I hope it doesn’t turn on us, I think, but I don’t say. I can’t say it, not when she’s looking so bright and happy, letting herself release the anxiety of Vito and all that messiness.

For a little while, I want us to just be a couple, Ryland and Rosie, nothing else.

The time for defending her savagely, with bullets and brawn and teeth and blood, maybe that’ll come later.

But all I care about right now is my woman, the future mother of my children.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rosie

As I walk through the imposingly large doorway, I remember what Ryland said to me.

Wear the dress, he growled. But don’t wear any makeup. I want you fresh and young and beautiful.

My body shivers as I walk into the fairytale dining hall. The walls are gold and tall, rising to a marble-effect ceiling with a domed chandelier in the middle, the light bulbs enclosed in glittering silver shades, casting icy light around the cavernous room.

The table is long, at least twenty feet, and gorgeous landscape paintings are dotted all over the walls.

Ryland stands at the far end of the table, his elbow resting on the back of the chair.

His silver suit shifts against his muscled body as he walks around the table, his eyes locked on me, hunger creeping into his expression. His massive chest expands as he takes a rumbling breath. His manhood stiffens in his pants, bulging against the zipper.

I swallow as his cologne washes over me, his sky-blues devouring me.

The dress is silver with a frilly hem, cut just above my knees, with low cut cleavage. I’ve tied a silver bow around my thigh. I felt silly as I did that – he didn’t tell me where to place the bow – but now I can see