Fall For My Ex's Mafia Dad novel Chapter 163

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 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.

“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?”

“No,” I breathe, shaking my head, my body starting to calm down.

Because, of course, Ivan isn’t going to make me do anything I don’t want to. I realize that, as I stare at him.

The real problem is that I…I don’t know what I want. And with everything that happened with Kent – the intensity that grew between us until it broke – until he broke – I hadn’t realized…that maybe this, with Ivan…

Maybe this is what I want? Want more?

The next morning the dawn light wakes me, rudely peeking through my lashes and invading my sleep. I rub my eyes, the early-morning air cold and dewy against my skin, and look to Ivan slumped against my side, still asleep.

I smile as I look at him and raise a hand to softly brush his hair back from his handsome face. Ivan flinches a little at my touch and then I watch him blink awake. As he does I think about the intimacy of that – of watching someone wake up, of their body still pressed to yours.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes falling on me.

“Hi,” I whisper, unable to keep the smile off my lips. It comes, unbidden, whenever he looks at me like that.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles sleepily, lifting a lazy hand to tug one of the rumpled stands of my hair.

I laugh a little, opening my mouth to deny it, but I’m interrupted by the sound of the sliding door opening to the deck. We both flinch a little, turning towards the man standing there, dressed in black. One of Kent’s guys.