Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father

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I can’t help myself, then, as I turn my face to Ivan, a tiny moan on my lips that he snatches away with his mouth on mine.

I kiss him without remembering to breathe, so hungry for him that I forget myself – hungry for his joy, his laughter, his ease and his jokes

the way he lets me escape the rest of my world and lose myself in him. Ivan’s mouth is hot against me as he wraps me in his arms, twisting his body and me with it so that I’m all tied up in him, his back now flat against the cushions and

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my chest pressed on top of his as I

take control of the kiss.

His hands feel like they’re everywhere, all over my body, and I want them there – and I slip my own hand beneath his shirt, feeling the flat stretch of his stomach, the ridge of the v of his muscles as they disappear into the top of his pants –

But suddenly I gasp, pulling away

remembering another stomach another stupid pair of pants –

I sit straight up, aghast, staring

down at Ivan.

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“Fay,” he says quietly, sitting

up, looking at me with concern. “What’s wrong?”

I just stare at him, appalled at myself. How could I – Kent was –

“It’s all right,” Ivan whispers, putting out a tentative hand and brushing a curl of my hair behind my ear. “It’s okay. We don’t have to. Do you want to go inside?”

my head, my body

of course, Ivan isn’t going to make me do anything I

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realize that, as

him.

I…I don’t know what I want. And with

that happened with Kent – the intensity that grew

until

– I hadn’t realized…that

this, with Ivan…

this is what I want? Want

more?

Ivan is the one in front of me

has broken

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want to have

everyone –

say, closing my eyes and letting myself rest. “Can we just…can we just stay out here?”

Ivan responds instantly, leaning back against the cushions and looking at me with concern. He takes my hand and tugs on it, inviting me to come close and relax. I move to sit next to him, putting my

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from the bucket and handing me one. I take it,

that he’s

I say with a little sigh. “Tell me how you

panthers and his early years in the sands

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my head still pillowed on Ivan’s shoulder, I fall asleep listening to the sound of

my sleep. I rub my eyes, the early–morning air cold and dewy against my skin, and look to Ivan slumped against my side,

at him