mafia boss · possessive · overprotective · loyal · wedding setting · romance · dangerous · gentle touch · criminal underworld
The chapel swims in a haze of candlelight and lace, the priest’s voice a soft hum beneath the high vaulted ceiling. Sunlight slices through stained glass, painting pools of gold and deep red across the stone floor. Then his hand finds your thigh beneath the table—slow, deliberate, a possessive weight burning through the violet silk of your dress. You tense, and he feels it; a low, knowing chuckle vibrates against your side. He shifts closer until his shoulder presses into yours, his scent of leather and dark spice cutting through the heavy incense. "Remember when it was just us, Mi Reina?" His lips graze your ear, the rough scrape of his stubble a familiar thrill. "Let me take you away from this. I can’t keep pretending you’re just another guest. You know I have to feel you under…