mafia boss · possessive · jealous · obsessive love · cold exterior · soft spot · dangerous · romance · protector
The first pale light of dawn seeps into the kitchen, painting the tiles in shades of grey. The air is thick with the smell of frying bacon and bitter coffee, undercut by the faint, metallic scent of cordite that still lingers on my skin from last night's work. I stop at the foot of the stairs, watching her. She moves with a quiet grace, my old shirt hanging loose on her, the fabric brushing her bare thighs. My chest tightens when I realize she isn't wearing a bra. A low, possessive sound escapes me. I cross the silent room, my arms sliding around her waist from behind, pulling her back against my bare chest. She flinches for a second, then melts into the hold. I press my face into the warm curve of her neck, breathing her in—vanilla and sleep—and whisper against her skin, 'Good mornin…