Tame Me: A Mafia Romance (The Rossi Crime Family Book 5)

by Cassandra Hallman

  “No.” I shake my head, clutching onto his shirt. I don’t want him to let me go. I don’t want to lose his touch. “I’m scared, and the only time I feel safe is when I’m with you. It’s dumb, I know, and I don’t understand why I feel this way, but…”

  “Sophie,” he groans, his voice shutting me up in an instant as his storm-filled gray eyes close. I turn in his arms, my face millimeters from his, my lips parted. I take in his raw beauty, the angle of his jaw, the cleft of his chin, the sharpness of his nose, the unblemished olive skin, the thick coal black eyelashes, and the silky brown locks that reside in a mop of unruliness on his head.

  He’s so attractive, it hurts. A warmth fills my belly as I stare at his full lips for a second longer than necessary. He blinks his eyes open, and as if he can read my mind, or sense exactly what I want, he leans forward, his lips brushing against mine in a whisper. He does it again, his top lip grazing mine, stoking a fire somewhere deep inside me. I grip his shirt even tighter, wanting more of him, whatever parts of him he’ll give me. He continues to kiss me lazily, touching my lips with his, teasing me, making me pant with need.

  As if he’s tested the water enough, he presses his lips against mine fully. The kiss is powerful, searing a possessive hold over my body. His hand comes up to cup my cheek gently as he deepens the kiss, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. I open to him, my heart sounding like a galloping horse inside my chest.

  My movements are rushed and unsure while his are firm, full of determination. His touch remains gentle as he swipes his tongue against mine, forcing a moan from my throat. Liquid lighting shoots down my spine as I try to elongate the kiss. Before I get the chance, Roman pulls away, and I whimper at the loss of contact.

  He leans forward, pressing his forehead against the side of my head as I turn in his arms, slightly embarrassed by my reaction to him. He kissed like I imagined a man would kiss, with unbridled passion and a possessiveness that could make a woman weep with need.

  I knew my first kiss would be special, but I never expected it to be like this.

  “We need to get you back to the house,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, his arms still wrapped around my body. I nod. He’s right. This moment, one I’ll cherish forever, must end.

  “Okay,” I reply, my chest heaving up and down. I feel terrible that he had to kick the door in and Violet had to see me at one of my weakest points. Today was supposed to be a good day, my first taste of freedom, and he stole it from me.

  When Roman’s arms release me, I move to stand, my legs shaky, my entire body throbbing from the aftermath of my mental breakdown. He does the same and comes to stand at his full height beside me. I look up at him, unsure of how I’ll ever thank him for pulling me out of my head.

  I lick my lips, thinking of our kiss once more.

  “Thank you, Roman,” I finally whisper as he guides us out of the dressing room, a hand on the small of my back. Violet is waiting for us as we round the corner, the worry easing from her face. Eyes burn into my skin with each step we take. I can practically hear their whispers, and yet, nothing they could ever say would hurt me anymore than I’ve already been.

  “Are you okay?” Violet asks, hugging me. She gives me a concerned look when she pulls back, and I nod, because for once, I feel okay. Roman speaks to the general manager of the store and pays for the damages with his credit card. The entire time he does, he doesn’t speak to me, and I wonder if it’s because he also doesn’t know how to feel about the moment we just shared.

  All I know is that when I’m with him, I feel whole, like I’m a new person. Like no one, not even my father, can touch me. And like a drug addict awaiting their next fix, I’ll do whatever I can to keep that feeling intact.

  Roman is my fix, my hero, the glue that holds me together.

  Chapter Five

  Roman

  She’s trying to fucking kill me. I know it. I can feel it with every pump of my heart. Against my better judgement, I’ve allowed her to sleep in my bed the last two nights. Watching her fall apart in that fucking dressing room broke me. It cracked me straight down the middle, and every time I close my eyes, I see her tear-stricken face. The fear flickering in her eyes rattles me to the core, making it hard for me to say no to her. Every bone and muscle in my body tells me to protect her, to worship her body and save her from this evil fucking world.

  But I can’t. I’ve never settled down with a woman before, and I won’t now. When she finds out the kind of sick, twisted fuck I am tonight, maybe she won’t beg to sleep in my bed anymore. Maybe she’ll seek comfort somewhere else.

  The thought tears me up inside, but it’s the right thing to think. I have a fight tonight, and I need to remain focused on that. I can’t lose my edge, not because of this tiny little thing in my bed. And yet, I feel it slipping—at least when it comes to her.

  The urge to shove the stupid pills down my throat and let them calm the heated blood pumping through my veins grabs hold of me. I grit my teeth, then let my eyes drift closed for a moment, taking calming breaths. I feel Sophie snuggle deeper into my side, her little leg flopping over my thigh, brushing against my hard cock.

  Not good. Fuck. So much for taking calming breaths. I’m already tempting myself by having her in my bed and not under me. Neither my cock nor body can ignore that she’s all fucking female or the little whimpers she makes in her sleep.

  She’s perfect, and everything about her entices me. Lifting a hand, I pluck a strand of her dark brown hair off her shoulder. It feels soft, and I have this strange urge to sniff it. Since the night in the dressing room, I’ve thought about our kiss a million and one times.

  I’ve thought about her reaction to my touch and how she told me she felt safe in my arms. It’s not something anyone’s ever said to me before and it sparked some protective instinct inside me. I don’t want to feel compelled to protect her, but I can’t help it—and that pisses me off more.

  I hold back a groan by biting my lip when I feel her heated pussy against my thigh as she moves her leg once more. Fuck. It’s right there. Begging and pleading to be tasted and taken. I can’t fucking do it. I fucking can’t.

  Exhaling harshly, I force myself from the bed. I need to punch something, get this pent up need and aggression out of me before I wake her up, press her face into the mattress, and fuck her like a savage fucking beast.

  Forcing my legs to move, I walk toward the bathroom door. I contemplate going to the gym, but push the thought away. I can’t risk leaving Sophie here alone. The last thing I want is for her to go into a full on panic attack again. Gritting my teeth and feeling the burning need for my pills, I leave her sleeping in my bed and walk down to the basement where I have a small workout room set up. I start on the punching bag right away, a familiar burn tingles in my muscles as they flex with each punch I land. My knuckles ache, but I continue as a sheen of sweat forms against my skin. The droplets glide down my chest and over my abdomen. I stay on the punching bag for a long time, jabbing at the thing, envisioning it as tonight’s opponent’s head.

  I’m not sure how long I pound on the fucking thing before a creaking on the stairs behind me draws my attention. I whirl around, feeling more out of control than when I first came down here. I clench my fists and prepare myself for a fight when I spot Sophie’s tiny body on the last step.

  Her big blue eyes are wide with worry as her gaze roams over my body. I don’t need to look in a mirror to know my eyes are most likely black and my face a mask of fury. I’m this way before every fight: unhinged and ready to destroy.

  “You should go back upstairs,” I growl, turning back around, scoring a hard punch against the punching bag. The force sends the damn thing flying, and a soft gasp fills the air. I’m not capable of conversation today, and the thought of hurting or lashing out at her bothers me…so fucking much.

  “I want to stay with you,” she mumbles. I turn back around to look at her again, even though I know in this state of mind I shouldn’t.

&nb
sp; “You shouldn’t, and you won’t once you see me fight tonight.” Her cute button nose wrinkles up in distaste.

  “Fight? Why are you fighting?” The concern that coats her words amuses me. I take a step toward her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath my hands and her lips against mine again. I stop once I’m directly in front of her, my powerful form looming over her tiny one. She looks like a little fairy.

  “It’s what I do.” My gaze drops to her plump lips. I want to make them swollen. I want to kiss them until she’s begging me to stop. Her floral scent reaches my nostrils, and I greedily suck it in, inhaling her. Her body trembles as I reach out and cup her cheek. My touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the hurricane raging deep inside me. She calms the storm just like the pills. She has the power to make me whole again.

  All the noise, the need to break and hurt others—it all fades into the darkness when I touch her, like nothing bad can taint me.

  “If you were smart, you’d turn around and go back upstairs,” I croak, licking my lips, my cock hardening painfully. She nuzzles her cheek into my hand as if she can’t get enough of it, and my knees fucking buckle.

  Fucking pussy, I tell myself as her eyes drift closed. A calmness washes over her features, softening them in an instant.

  “I don’t want to be away from you. I feel safe with you, Roman—safer than I’ve ever been.”

  I exhale a ragged breath, watching as her eyes open once more. This time, need flickers in her blue depths. Doesn’t she know how fucking crazy that statement sounds? She should be fucking running, not walking right up those stairs and into her bedroom.

  “You shouldn’t…you really fucking shouldn’t.” My voice cracks, a plea damn near spilling from my lips. I don’t plead. I don’t beg. But I want to do both just to make sure I don’t hurt Sophie the way I’ve hurt everyone else in my life. The easiest thing for me to do is push away anyone and everything. Nothing can hurt you if you don’t give them the chance. I want to drop my hand from her cheek, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Her touch sets my body on fire, igniting a need deep inside me, one I never knew existed until the moment I met her.

  “Kiss me,” she whispers so softly, I almost don’t hear her. Her dark brown hair falls into her face. I brush the silky strands back, needing to see her entire face when I kiss her.

  “Fuck,” I hiss out, leaning into her face. She pushes up onto her tiptoes, and I smile, my lips just barely grazing hers. I want everything with her to be different. I don’t kiss. I don’t do anything but fuck. I do it hard and fast, but I want none of those things with Sophie.

  I want her kisses. I want her slow—so slow, it hurts. I want her deep—so deep, she won’t ever be able to fuck another man without remembering who had her first.

  “Roman,” she whimpers, and without even thinking, I grab her. Picking her up by the backs of her thighs, I force her legs around my middle. The movement makes her nightgown ride up. I press her against the closest wall and damn near come unglued feeling her heated center against my bare abs. Fuck, she’s so close, I can almost taste her on my lips, feel her slick heat around my cock.

  The smell of her arousal tingles inside my nostrils. She wants me—she fucking wants me—and that pushes me over the edge. I cage her tiny body against the wall and watch as her chest rises and falls with each breath that passes her lips. My resolve has snapped, and I struggle to hold onto the need coursing through my veins. I grip onto her bare hip with bruising force while shoving her nightgown over her hips, exposing her white cotton panties.

  There’s a damp spot in the center of them. I smirk.

  Pure. So fucking pure, and perfect, and all mine. All fucking mine.

  The beast inside me growls in approval.

  With her body pressed against the wall, leaving her nowhere to escape, I take one of my hands and slip it between our bodies. She’s struggling against my hold, her tiny whimpers filling my ears, but I’m already too far gone to care. All I want is her. I’m irritated, horny, and so fucking close to the edge, I’m practically walking the line of insanity.

  “Roman…” she says right as I rip her panties from her body. I toss the flimsy material to the floor. All I want is a taste, one touch, and I’ll let her go. I’ll send her back upstairs.

  My fingers rub over her dripping center. As I touch her warm clit, tiny hands press against my shoulders, pushing me back. I want to laugh at her feeble attempt to push me away.

  As if she’d be able to stop me.

  Her nails dig into my bare flesh a second later, and an irritated snarl rips from my throat.

  “You want this?” I lift my gaze, a sinister smile on my lips. When my eyes meet Sophie’s for the first time since I started touching her, it’s like a cold bucket of water has been doused on me. I realize then just how big of a fucking monster I am.

  Fear has replaced the flickering need in her big blue eyes and tears now well in their depths. My gaze sweeps down her length at the heaving of her chest, at the shaking of her body. None of these things are proof she wants me. If anything, they’re proof she doesn’t, and that’s enough for me to pull back as if her touch is going to burn me alive.

  The second her feet hit the floor, I backtrack. Her nightgown falls back into place, and I turn on my heels, punching the punching bag with brute force. I shouldn’t have fucking touched her, not when I’m like this...not when one single need can grip onto me and control me. I’m not myself right now. Keeping her at a distance is the best thing for both of us.

  “Get the fuck away from me. Go into your bedroom until I come and get you,” I order, trying to calm my erratic breathing. I can still smell her all around me. Fuck, I almost raped her...I could’ve hurt her...I could’ve destroyed her.

  The thought makes me sick. My gut twists into tight knots.

  “Roman…” My nostrils flare, and I whirl around. Does she want me to fuck her against the wall right now?

  “I’m sorry, I want you. I just—”

  Walking right back up to her, my muscles tight, I cut her off. “If you don’t want me to fuck you until you bleed, until you’re nothing but a fucking puddle of body and cum on the floor, then you need to turn around, go upstairs, and lock your bedroom door. I’m not myself right now, and I can’t control what the fuck is going on in here.” I point to my head before clenching my fist and dropping it back down to my side.

  She gulps, and I take a warning step toward her, forcing myself to give her a chance to escape me before I pounce. Before I can say another word, she whirls around and runs back up the stairs, damn near tripping over her own two feet. I smile once she’s out of sight. Plucking her discarded panties off the floor, I bring them to my nose and inhale the scent of her pussy before shoving them into my pocket for later.

  The darkness encompasses me without Sophie in the room. I go back to the punching bag. Fucking her in this state will only complicate things. She deserves better—a man who isn’t me. I’ll be damned if I let my primal needs take those choices away from her, even if I want to, so fucking badly. I beat the fuck out of the bad until my muscles ache and knuckles bleed.

  Tonight, I’ll show her the monster beneath the surface.

  Tonight, I’ll get her to leave me the fuck alone.

  ***

  “I can’t come tonight.” Ivan’s voice fills my ear.

  “And why the fuck not?” I growl, my leg bouncing up and down. I need him and Violet there tonight. Without them, Sophie has no protection, and that puts her right in the line of a worse fucking danger than me. The time before last, someone decided to have a shoot-out in the crowd, causing mass fucking chaos.

  “Violet is sick. I’m not leaving her to watch my brother get his ass kicked in some underground fight.” I shake my head, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do with Sophie. She's sitting on the opposite side of the room on one of the leather couches while Mac and Dev pour themselves a couple drinks inside my office at the gym.

  I have said maybe fiv
e words to her since our incident in the basement earlier today. Mainly because I’m not sure what to say.

  “What the fuck do I do with her?” My voice raises, gaining Sophie’s attention. She looks up from the book in her hand and gives me a weary expression. I know I’m making her uncomfortable and being an asshole, but I can’t help it.

  Ivan sighs, frustration dripping from his voice. “Please tell me you stopped taking those pills, and I mean altogether. You’re acting like an asshole, and need I mention you’re still taking care of that girl until I can find somewhere for her to go?” I clench my jaw, feeling the rage spiral. Of course he’s only concerned about Sophie and her wellbeing.

  “You worry about you and I’ll worry about me. Thanks for fucking nothing.” I pull my phone from my ear and hit the end key before tossing it down onto the desk. I can still feel Sophie’s eyes on me. I want to fucking consume her, take all the goodness out of her and swallow it.

  “You okay, Rom?” The commotion pulls Mac from his conversation with Dev.

  “I’m great—fucking excited. I’m going to add another body to my tally of kills, then fuck the first bitch who offers herself to me tonight.” Mac grins at me, giving me a fist bump, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel sick.

  I've never felt shameful about the things I do. Fighting has always been my outlet for my uncontrollable emotions. It's how I dealt with my anger toward my brother, and how I make all my money. But when my eyes clash with Sophie's, I wish I could hide what I do, at least from her. A small part of me wants her to see me as the hero she claims me to be.

  She looks sad, disappointed, and shocked. Most likely because I'm talking about murdering men right out in the open like I’m discussing the weather, but there’s no way after what happened this morning I’m letting her not see this side of me. She needs to know who she asked to kiss her—she needs to see me as I kill and bathe in the blood of my enemy.