Page 102 of Mafia And Maid
She hears my footsteps because she’s paying attention—she always is. I’ve learned not to surprise her by grabbing her. She’s perfected that elbow to the sternum move we’ve practiced.
Despite the pride I feel over that fact, I hate how jumpy she is with me still—how anxious and uneasy she is before she takes a breath and relaxes.
“Rosa?” I announce quietly. My arms encircle her body slowly, softly.
She jolts, her eyes squeezing shut.
I stay still, letting my heat roll over her for a heartbeat, then another. She relaxes against me, and the tension in my gut eases. “Smells good.”
“It’ll be ready just after your brothers get home.”
“Oh?” I don’t love the fact that she knows their schedule as well as I do—that she pays them any mind at all. I want her all to myself. “What can I do to help?”
“No, I’ve got it.”
I smile against the side of her face. “I wasn’t asking, really. What can I do, Rosa? What else is left?”
“I’ve got it.”
My arms tighten around her, and I drop my lips to the exposed curve of her neck. “I’m not asking, Rosa,” I say with a low growl.
Her body melts into mine as her pulse leaps under my mouth.
I tug her closer, feeling the curve of her ass rub against me just right as she twists in my loose hold.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Good.” My hands wander over her hip and up under her T-shirt. Goosebumps pebble upon her beautiful skin as I brush her stomach. My fingers trace up higher. “I’ll just keep distracting you until you give me a job to do.” My thumb brushes the underside of her breast beneath her bra.
“Okay!” she squeaks, her face and neck flushed red. “Okay. We’ll make the bread and salad.”
I step back. “Awesome.”
I don’t miss the shy amusement on her face as she shakes her head. It’s progress. Little by little. “What’s first?”
“Wash your hands.”
I can feel the amused smirk tug my lips up. She’s not demanding or forceful with the order, but it does something to me, nonetheless. A minute later, I stand beside her, clueless where to begin.
“So, we’re going to cut the lettuce.”
“Okay.”
Her chin jerks to the knife between us. “I’ve already washed it and everything else we need. You just need to chop it up in bite-sized pieces.”
Easy enough. I can feel her eyes on me as she watches my slow, tentative movements with the knife. It’s nothing like how I’m used to handling them. This is different but in a way I don’t actually hate.
“Those are too big.”
“You said bite-sized.”
Her lips purse. “For regular people, not barbarians.”
“You clearly haven’t watched my brothers eat,” I mumble.
Her giggle echoes around the room, and the knife falls from my hand. My world practically stops.
“Did you cut yourself?” she asks with concern.