(Highest Ranking #76 in Romance)
Chiara is a journalist. A good one. For the world to know that, all she needs is a scoop. Her instincts tell her that the Riders of Tyr have a few stories to offer to the public and she decides to expose them. Will h...
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Chiara
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. I am this close to break down and beg for one freaking kiss. Why does he have to be that difficult? How can he not see what I feel about him? I long for him, I am torn to pieces for one touch from him.
"Fuck, Chiara, you are in trouble once again," he whispers and his hot breath caresses me.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," I reply climbing on my toes.
His long hair falls over his shoulders and caresses me and just like that, I am on fire, hot for him. I look up to him and I have never wanted anything more in my life than him. I don't care how crazy this is. It would be even more crazy to live my life in constant need of a man like him.
I run my fingers through his hair and he does the same. Our eyes lock and I see his walls are crumbling down. Finally! He is always so reserved, so guarded, so suspicious and second-thinking. But right now, looking at me I see him open and I feel like a pilgrim before a holy sight. Mesmerized.
"If we do this, I would want to keep you, woman."
"Then keep me," I breath out.
Logic has taken a dive in those dark eyes of his. I want him to keep me and hold me and make me his completely.
"Keep you for good. I am not fooling around."
"Good. I wouldn't want to destroy any other woman coming for you."
"Bad-ass," he keeps running his fingers through my hair.
"I am Italian, amore," I smirk.
"You are mine, woman," his tone is serious.
He looks down at me waiting for my reaction. His grip on me tightens to show me exactly how he feels. For the third time, he is giving me an out, a chance to escape him. He may have a point. This is going to be tough, me being who I am and him being on the wrong side of the law. But I don't care.
"I am yours," I come impossibly close, my hands on his chest.
"Fuck, yes," he growls, closes the gap between us and takes my mouth in his.
Yours, yours! I let my lips speak the words he doesn't care to listen. He is not a man of words, he is a man of actions. He might never say he loves me but twice he has come between me and the danger threatening me without even blinking.
His kiss is bruising, rough, hard, burdened with emotion, with agony and anticipation and I give back all I've got. His arm snakes around my waist and I am pulled off the ground with ease. He coaxes me with his tongue and demands entrance. I touch his tongue with mine and I get instantly wet. I want him, I want him so bad! I know he is shot but if we go slow, we might-
"Woohoo!" I hear cheers and catcalling behind me.
Right, forgot the Adams Family, we break the kiss and he rests his forehead on mine. If I want him, I get the Riders as well. Kind of a package deal. They may be loud and rough around the edges, violent and rush at times but they are also a brotherhood, a family. Once you get to know them, they are not that bad. And I kind of like the girls.
