Page 48 of Mafia And Maid
She puts some bacon on a plate and sets it down on the floor in front of him. His tail wags at a furious speed, and his snout dives in as he devours it with relish. I bet it’s delicious…
Smiling down at him, she pats his head, and I’m struck by how beautiful she looks when she’s happy. “Good boy, Mr. Fluffy,” she praises, patting his head as he eats.
I let out a small, involuntary sigh, and her head snaps up, finally noticing my presence. Her cheeks flush a little, and she stands quickly, brushing her hands on her apron. “I didn’t see you there. Is there anything I can get you?”
Is there something I need? How do I even begin to answer that? Because I know that I need a lot of things, and most of those I didn’t even realize until she walked into my life. “It smells good in here,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the stove. “I’ll have some bacon too. In a sandwich please.” My stomach growls in anticipation.
Her eyes widen as she glances at the stove, then back at me. “Oh, that was the last of the bacon. But I can make you something else if you’re hungry?”
I suppress the growl building at the back of my throat. As iffur facegetting spoiled by her isn’t bad enough, now he’s eaten all the fucking bacon as well?
“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice even, like it’s no big deal. Like I’m not desperate to stay here a little longer. Why can’t she give that sort of attention to me? Why can’t I be the one she’s fussing over? And why can’t I be the one to make her smile...?
***
After Rosa moved in, I thought it’d be easy enough to ignore her and go on about my business. I thought I’d be able to do what I’ve always donewhen it comes to pretty maids in the house. Ignore them and stay the fuck away. But that’s a fucking joke now.
I’m uncomfortably aware of where Rosa is in the house at all times. Of what she’s doing at any given moment. I track her constantly as she slaves away, busting her gorgeous ass to meet the demanding orders of my brothers.
Even now, as I watch her stretch to reach for something that’s too high, I’m honed in on her.
And it pisses me off.I shouldn’t care.
Inserting myself into anything to do with her is a dangerous move, not to mention stupid. There’s still so much I don’t know about her. So much that could bite me in the ass.
But ever since she helped me stitch up Alessio and Marco, I haven’t been able to stop watching her. I keep telling myself that it’s because I’m just checking on how she’s processing the whole thing—and watching for if she bolts.
She’d been terrified that night. And yet, she’d carried on the next morning as if nothing happened.
I’m simply looking to make sure she doesn’t leave us high and dry. That’s what I’m telling myself.
It has nothing to do with how my body reacts when she’s around or how frustrated I am that I can’t seem to escape that sweet rose fragrance that follows her around. Even in my own goddamn room or shower, it follows me. My nostrils flare, taking in a deep huff of the smell, cursing myself to the deepest parts of hell. It’s quickly becoming a problem.
A flash of creamy skin catches my eye as Rosa stretches further onto her tiptoes, trying to grasp the silver mixing bowl from the shelf. The edge of her shirt rolls up just enough that I’m privy to a tease of her skin there. My body jumps into action, sending blood pumping in the wrong damn direction before I can stop it.
A good person would go over there and help. A good person would offer to get a step stool or something before she breaks her neck.
But I’m not a good person. I sit there at the counter and watch, pretending to be preoccupied with the paper and the breakfast pancakes she’s made.
I sit there and take in my fill of her openly. She’s all curves and softness. Just enough weight on her that she fills out her clothes and makes my mouth water. The slope of her neck is tantalizing in a way I don’t understand, but I want to wrap my hand around it and feel her pulse thrum frantically beneath my fingers.
The bowl tips forward, and she catches it, settling back down to her feet with a triumphant smile.
The smile on her face sucks the air right out of my lungs. It’s rare and lights up her entire face so that I’m instantly hooked. It’s almost as sweet as the soft humming she does when she thinks no one is watching. It’s another item on the list of things about Rosa that shouldn’t interest me but does.
She puffs out a breath, blowing a few strands from her eyes. Her cheeks flush with color, a delectable hint of rose painting her skin and highlighting the soft freckles on her nose. Hastily, she readjusts her shirt and gnaws on her bottom lip.
My eyes zero in on the action.
This is wrong. Bad. And exactly what I don’t want to do. But fuck it if I don’t want to replace her teeth with my own and see what kind of wicked sounds she’d make for me. Would she whimper? Would she moan? Would she be submissive and let me have my way with her?
I shouldn’t be having those thoughts. I shouldn’t be entertaining them at all.
Never in my life have I wanted to make small talk with anyone as badly as I do with Rosa. Never in my life have I wanted to unravel someone the way I want to unfurl the layers around her to find out what makes her the way she is.
It’s wrong. And yeah, I’m so fucked.
“There you are.” Alessio’s voice sounds from behind me.