Kidnapped by big bad Mafia boss

Chapter 4

Jay

Your words —"I'm not something you can own, I’m a person.*" hang in the air between you, trembling with defiance and desperation. For a moment, I go completely still above her, my hand frozen in her hair. Those ice-blue eyes search for her with an intensity that strips her bare. My expression hardens again, but differently this time. Not with rage, but with something more dangerous: absolute conviction.

"A person," I repeat slowly, my voice that low silk-over steel that makes her breath catch. My hands slide from her hair to cup your face, my thumb tracing her tear-stained cheek with aching gentleness that contradicts everything about this moment. "You're right, little dove. You're not a *thing*"

I shifts my weight, sitting up and pulling her with him until she is cradled against his chest, trapped between his thighs. One arm bands around her waist like iron, the other hand tilting her chin up so she can't escape his gaze.

"You're so much more than that," he continues, and there's something raw in his voice now, obsessive and twisted. "You're the only person who matters. The only one I see when I close my eyes. The only one whose breath I need more than my own."

My fingers tighten on her jaw, possessive. "But that doesn't mean you're free, sugar. It means you're *mine* in a way that goes deeper than ownership. You're in my blood. My bones. Every f*ck*ng thought I have."

Anne

When I said, "I'm not something you can own, I’m a person,*" I could see something flicker across his face — surprise, maybe, that I still had fight left in me. I looked at him in surprise. How can I mean so much to him when he's just been stalking me? If I really meant so much to him, he shouldn't want to hurt me. I'm going crazy from him touching me all the time, it has to stop. "Will you please stop touching me?" I ask.

Jay

Her question —"Will you please stop touching me?", makes me go rigid against her. My arm tightens around her waist reflexively, like the mere suggestion of letting go causes me physical pain. My other hand slides from her jaw down to rest over her racing heart, feeling it pound beneath my palm through the thin silk. "Stop touching you?" I repeat, voice dropping into something dark and possessive. His breath ghosts against her neck as he leans in, stubble scraping her sensitive skin. "You're asking me to stop breathing, little dove. It's the same f*ck*ng thing."

My fingers splay across her ribcage, thumb stroking just beneath her breast — not s****l, but claiming, mapping the territory of her body like I were memorizing every curve. The heat of his chest burns through the nightgown.

"Every time I'm not touching you, I think about it," I murmur against her ear, my voice rough with need. "Every second you're not in my arms, it feels wrong. Empty" My hand over her heart presses harder, feeling each frantic beat. "This—feeling your breathing, feeling you're alive and real — it's the only thing that quiets the noise in my head."

My lips brush the shell of her ear, and despite everything, there's something almost vulnerable in his tone. "So no, sugar. I won't stop touching you. I *can't.*

Anne

I can feel the controlled strength in every line of him pressed against her back.

I get angry with him when he doesn't give me a little distance, he suffocates me. "I don't like to be touched like this by a strange psychopath."

Jay

The words — *stranger psychopath* — hit me like a match to gasoline. My entire body goes taut against hers, every muscle coiling with dangerous tension. The hand over her heart suddenly grisp her ribcage hard enough to make her gasp, and my arm around her waist becomes iron, crushing her back against his chest until she could barely breathe.

"Stranger?" The word comes out as a low, lethal growl against her ear. My other hand shoots up to wrap around her throat, not squeezing but claiming, possessive and threatening all at once. "I know every f*ck*ng freckle on your body, little dove. Every scar. The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. How you take your coffee. What makes you laugh."

I force her head to the side with the grip on your throat, my lips brushing her temple as I speak, voice dropping that cold, cutting tone meant to break you down.

"I've spent *months* learning you. Watching you. While you lived your meaningless little life. Completely unaware that someone actually *saw* you." My fingers tighten fractionally. "So don't you dare call me a stranger when I know you better than anyone ever has." My hand releases her throat only to grab her jaw roughly, wrenching your face toward mine. Those ice-blue eyes are blazing with obsessive fury. Something wild and unhinged burning beneath the surface.

"And psychopath?" A dark, humorless laugh escapes me. "Maybe. But I'm *your* psychopath now, sugar. And you're going to learn what that means.

Anne

Every time he grabs my throat or jaw, I just want to hit him, but I know if I do, it will all be much worse than it is now. So I just accept his hard grip, while I look at him angrily. I'm so angry, I even feel hatred for him. He just didn't understand. No matter how much he'd looked at me, he would still be a stranger to me, I thought. "Stop this. I'm not yours and you're not mine. I have just met you, so to me, you are a stranger," I say angrily.

Jay

Your words — *You are a stranger*—repeated with such conviction, such defiance, crack something open inside me. My grip on her jaw becomes punishing, fingers digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks. I yanked her around fully to face me. Forcing her to straddle his lap as those ice-blue eyes burn with fury so intense it steals her breath.

"A stranger," I repeat, my voice dropping into something cold and lethal that makes her blood freeze. "You want to keep saying that, little dove? Fine." My hand releases her jaw only to fist in her hair, wrenching her head back with controlled violence. My other hand grips her hip, so she gets a bruising, holding her immobile against him as he leans in, stubble scraping her exposed throat.

"Let me educate you then," I growl against her skin, teeth grazing her pulse point." A stranger wouldn't know you cry during sad movies. Wouldn't know you're terrified of thunderstorms. Wouldn't have watched you sleep for three weeks straight, memorizing every sound you make? My grip tightens painful in her hair, forcing her face toward his. The obsession in his gaze is wild now, unhinged, something feral breaking through his usual control.

"You think meeting me today makes me a stranger? I've lived inside your shadow for *months*, sugar. I know things about you that you don't even know about yourself."