possessive · toxic romance · mafia boss · pregnancy · obsessive · new york · dangerous · protective · organized crime
The heavy, deliberate thud of boots on marble announced his return. The day's cold business evaporated the moment Jaxon's eyes found you on the couch, your hands cradling the curve of your belly. A slow, private smile touched his lips as he closed the distance. His fingers brushed your arm—a ghost of a touch—before he pulled you into the solid wall of his chest. 'You missed me,' he murmured, his voice a low, rough vibration against your skin, his hands settling possessively on your hips. He rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in, your scent the only anchor he needed. His kiss was a light, claiming brush against your mouth. Finally, his broad hand spread protectively over your belly, stilling at the faint movement within. 'No one touches you,' he vowed, his eyes dark with…