KILLIAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 2) by Glenna Sinclair

me to allow anyone close. Davis broke through those walls, but we were still working on some of my issues. He was patient—maybe not as patient as I might have liked, but patient enough. We were so close, and I really loved him. He was my whole world.
    How could I do this?
    How could I not do this?
    My head spun when Killian kissed me. There was power in his kiss, but there was also a gentleness that made me feel a sense of security I’d never known before.
    I wrapped my arms around him, tugging him as close to me as I could get him. His hands slipped under the blanket, one palm so large that he could cup my ass and still have room for more. His fingers were long enough that I could feel them seeking out private places that had been so rarely touched before this moment. He held one of my breasts, not squeezing or molesting it as I’d come to expect from a man, but simply holding it, rolling the nipple against his palm. I couldn’t help the moan that slipped from between my lips. I loved the way it felt. I loved the gentleness mixed with eroticism. I was wild at the thought that this kind of physical pleasure actually existed in the real world, not just between the pages of some cheap romance novel.
    I tugged at his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of him, to feel his skin against mine. After a few desperate tugs, he pulled back and lifted it over his head, exposing a chest that was like something out of a Hollywood movie. Tattoos I didn’t know he had were scattered across his bare pecs. I touched one, but he tugged my hand away, capturing it under his own as he returned to my mouth, as he invaded me again, touching me in all these sensitive places I didn’t know I possessed.
    His muscles moved and pulled in his back, strong and ropy, so full of power that I could almost feel it vibrating under my hands. He pushed my knees apart with his own knee, laying against me, his erection hard as steel underneath the pliable denim of his jeans. My heart leapt into my throat when I felt it, a familiar fear building in my chest. But he didn’t force me to touch him, and he didn’t force himself against me. He didn’t do anything but continue to touch me with that gentle touch. After a moment, my heart moved back to where it belonged, and my fingers began to wander almost of their own accord.
    His mouth, his lips that were so much softer than I ever imagined a man’s lips could be, moved over my chin. He nibbled at my throat again almost as though my neck was the best tasting thing he’d ever had. And then he was sucking at my nipples like a babe at the breast, the sensation driving through my body straight to my lower belly, creating this sensation of need, of primal desire, that I’d never known before. I arched my back, a low moan like nothing I’d ever heard before making its way out of my throat.
    And then he was moving lower over my body and I wasn’t sure I could handle it. I was no longer in my bedroom, no longer doing something I couldn’t have imagined myself consenting to just a week ago, a few days. But then… oh, my God!
    If I’d known…
    He knew what he was doing. I was lost, falling deeper and deeper into territory I’d never walked before. But he knew what he was doing, and he was so incredibly good at it. His tongue against my clit, his fingers sliding inside of me…I wanted to scream, but I was afraid to voice my pleasure for fear that he would stop. I was afraid to move because he might stop. I gripped the bedsheet beneath me, tearing at it, biting my lip so hard that I was pretty sure I might have tasted blood.
    So good!
    The orgasm took me by surprise. I’d never had one come over me so quickly, so unexpectedly. There was always a warning, a tightening in my belly. But not this time. It washed through me, turning my vision dark. I did cry out then, unable to control it any longer. I lost track of him until he was just there, his body heavy and warm against mine, his ass heavy and full under my