When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 25

Blake busies herself with her food, but whenever her gaze jumps to me, she looks a bit like a deer in headlights.

It’s fucking adorable how flustered she is. My cock stays painfully hard through the rest of dinner, and I realize Blake’s been discreetly dabbing her napkin against the sweat glistening on her neck.

It’s not that hot here. She’s just as worked up as me.

I was concerned when I saw Casey walking over to our table, but what bothered me most about the unfortunate encounter was Blake calling me a hero. I didn’t like that, nor the sharp pang of guilt that followed.

I’m no fucking hero. I’m a villain who’s working hard on rectifying the mistakes he’s made with her.

The waitress comes around and asks if we want dessert, but Blake shakes her head, saying she’s full.

“You sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” She can’t seem to hold my gaze for more than a second without her cheeks turning bright pink.

“Let’s grab the check then.”

I pay for the meal and help Blake with her coat. She’s silent through it all, staring at her feet like she’s thinking really hard about something.

Did I go too far with her? I’ve never been known for my patience, and with each passing day, I can feel it running out. I want to kiss those lips, to hold her in my arms, to burrow deep inside of her.

I think she wants it too.

But she won’t admit it, even to herself.

If I push her too much, she’ll retreat.

Much like she’s doing now.

As we’re walking out, I hear someone calling my name. “Is that you, Rowan?”

It’s Lottie Brown. The lady’s about eighty years old, but she’s got the energy of a teenager and the wardrobe of a go-go girl. I’m working on her kitchen.

She gets out of her seat, revealing the fuchsia sequin ensemble she’s got on, and sashays over to us to the jiggling soundtrack of the stacks of bracelets on her arms.

I grin. She’s a gossip, but she’s got character.

I bend down to press a kiss to each of her cheeks. “You look lovely, Mrs. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Lottie?” She swats at my chest, the old flirt. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darling. I was expecting you yesterday, you know?”

“My apologies. I had to stay at the office. I’ll be there next week.”

“You better.” Her gaze moves to Blake and then drops to our linked hands. “Blake Wolfe! Oh my goodness, are you two here on a date?”

I let go of Blake’s hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me. “We are.”

Her eyes widen with delight. “First date?”

“It’s been a few weeks,” Blake says. “I thought Del would have told you.”

“I must have a chat with that girl. I tell her everything, and she holds out on me. Will I see you two at the mayor’s Christmas party next week? I can’t remember if I got your RSVP, Rowan. I told you I’m on the organizing committee this year, right?”

Ah, the mayor’s party. That’s been on my calendar for weeks. The whole town is supposed to show up, and Sandro told me he’ll castrate me if I don’t go. I’m supposed to work the room and get leads for our business.

But what I’m looking forward to most is showing Blake off.

“We’ll be there,” I say.

Blake shoots me a surprised look. “We will?”

I lean down and press a kiss against the crown of her head. “Did I forget to tell you?”

She gives me a tight smile that looks vaguely threatening. “You did.”

She doesn’t sound thrilled about it, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Her ex will be there, along with his dad and the rest of his family.

But she doesn’t need to worry. Brett won’t bother her while I’m around.

In fact, I can’t fucking wait to parade her on my arm in front of him.

“I’m so thrilled to hear that,” Lottie croons. “Not to toot my own horn, but it’s going to be the event of the year.” She turns to Blake. “Oh, honey, can I ask you for a favor?”

Blake smiles. “Sure, Aunt Lottie. What is it?”

“You know the charity auction we always do as part of the event? Marissa, the woman who owns that Italian place near Kansas City, just dropped out. She had donated a cooking class, but she just lost her sister, so the poor thing had to pull out.”

Blake looks gutted. “That’s terrible.”

Lottie pats her arm. “I know in the previous years you donated a mixology class. Can I convince you to do it again this year?”

Blake stiffens. “Uh. I’m not sure…”

“Well, why not? Surely you can spare a few hours for a good cause?”

“All right,” Blake says, a hint of reluctance in her voice. “I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful! You two enjoy the rest of your night.”

When we get outside, Blake turns on me. “I would have appreciated a heads-up. The party’s next week.”

I grin. She looks even more beautiful when she’s mad. “It’s for a good cause. What are you worried about?”

“For one, I have no idea what to wear.”

“What you’re wearing right now is fine. You’ll look great in anything.”

She shoots me a dark look before getting inside the truck.

At first, the silence feels comfortable, but as we keep driving, the mood shifts. Blake is turned away from me as she stares out the window, her hands resting in loose fists in her lap.

Is she that pissed about going to the party? Or is it the class Lottie convinced her to donate?

“You said you lived in Vegas. You a gambler?”

Her question catches me off guard. It takes me a moment to answer. “Not anymore.” Saturday poker nights with the guys in New York used to be my favorite.

“You lost one vice,” she mutters.

“Picked up a few others.” Like obsessing over her.

“Hmm. Are the women a new thing?”

I bite down on my tongue. Why the hell is her head going there?

Probably because of Casey. I wish the woman hadn’t come up to me, but it would have happened eventually. Somewhere, with someone.

Unease slithers down my spine. It would be unreasonable for me to expect Blake to suddenly get over the fact that I’ve slept around. She’s made it very clear it bothers her.

“No, it’s not a new thing,” I admit, not wanting to lie. Haven’t I lied enough?

“Usually, promiscuity is a sign you’re running from something. Learned that after I spent hours googling why men cheat.”

I stop at a light and look at her. “I don’t cheat. I’ve always been upfront about my intentions.”

She meets my gaze. “Which are?”

“With Casey and the rest of them?” I make a caveat so that she knows what’s happening between us is different. “I made it clear to them that I wasn’t looking for commitment or anything serious.”

“I wish Brett was as honest with me. He was running from the fact that he was unhappy with me. I was never a good match for someone like him.”

“Someone like him? You mean an asshole?”

Her laugh is soft. “His family is practically royalty in this town. And me? I already told you that I’m a nobody. The daughter of a criminal. White trash.”

I don’t like her talking about herself that way. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

“It’s what I am. My mom was born in a trailer park.”

“We don’t get to choose who our parents are. But we can sure as fuck choose our actions. Don’t tell me you blame yourself for what Brett did.”

“I don’t blame myself, but I get it. I wasn’t all that fun to be around those last few months before Mom died, so he found someone who was. I could feel him pulling away emotionally, but I was too wrapped up in my grief to do anything about it.”

My hands tighten on the wheel. God, I’d love to smash that son of a bitch right in the face. “He wasn’t right for you. If he was, he would have stuck by your side instead of straying from the commitment he made to you.”

She whips her head around, piercing me with her glare. “Sure. But who are you to judge him, Rowan? You can’t seem to commit to anyone for more than one night, or at least so I hear.”

Anger sparks inside of me. I haven’t fucking looked at another woman since she moved in, but of course, she hasn’t noticed that.

“You’ve been in my bed for far more than one night,” I growl.

“I’m the only person in your bed.”

“Do you want to change that?” I challenge. “Judging by your performance at my office yesterday, it seems like maybe you do.”

Her cheeks redden. “You’re an asshole. You know we have a deal.”

Frustration fans through me. “A deal. So all of this is you working overtime to meet the requirements of our deal?”

“Are you really asking that question? Or are you just trying to provoke me?”

I’m pushing it, but I’m too annoyed with her to keep myself in check. “Tell me, what went through your head when you felt how hard I was for you at dinner?”

She sputters. “W-what do you mea— What kind of a ques—“

“It’s a simple fucking question. What went through your head?”

Her fingers flex into tense claws on her knees. “Nothing. I drew a blank.”

“Really? Because I bet if I’d slid my hand between your thighs just then, I’d have found you wet. And why do pussies get wet, Sunshine? I’m no genius, but I know a thing or two about women’s anatomy. Women get wet when they’re aroused. So what’s arousing to women? That depends on the individual. But given what I know of you, let me venture a guess. I think the image that went through your head when you felt how fucking hard I was for you was me and you in a dark, empty corner of a library—you know, the kind with all those fancy books you love so much—and you’re in a dress, one of those little fucking dresses that billow out from the waist. You’ve got your hands up on a bookshelf, your face eye level with a shelf of Italian poets, and you’re holding onto it for dear life because I’m railing you. I’m railing you so hard and I’ve got my fingers over your clit, and your hair wrapped around my fist, and I’m biting your neck while you moan my name and beg me to fuck you even harder. That’s what I bet went through your head.”

There’s silence and then a harsh intake of breath.

I tighten my hands around the wheel and look at her. “Did I get that right?”

She’s staring at me with wide eyes and a parted mouth. Her cheeks burn a bright red.

I huff. “Would you look at that? I’m so fucking right I stunned you into silence.”

She wraps her palm around the side of her neck, and I see it bob on a swallow before I turn back to face the road. We’ve reached our street.

“I have no desire to be another one of your conquests,” she says, sounding out of breath. “I’m not like you. I don’t sleep with others on a whim.”

“The rest of the town already thinks you’ve slept with me.” We pull into the driveway. “You might as well do it and have some fun for once.”

“I don’t need the kind of fun that leaves my heart broken. And I’ve long since learned I can’t control what this town thinks, but I can control what I think. And what I think is that for you, sex is a crutch. Whatever pain you’re nursing, sex helps you forget it. But the relief is short-lived, which is why you move on so quickly in search of your next distraction. I’m not a distraction, Rowan. I’m a person. And I deserve more than that.”

She’s out of the truck before I can utter another word.

It’s for the best, because I’ve got nothing to say to that. She’s right. I slept with those women because they were a distraction from the bored dissatisfaction permeating my new life.

I drag my palms over my face. No wonder she doesn’t want to get involved with me if that’s all I can give her.

She’s pure, good, and selfless. If I want to have her, let alone keep her, I have to become someone better.

The question is…can I?