The Alpha's Mafia Luna novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Selene’s POV

Warmth.

That was the first thing I felt before I even opened my eyes. Not just

the heat of the sun streaming through the windows, but the heavy,

solid kind of warmth–Damian’s warmth. His chest was pressed

against my back, his arm looped around my waist like he had no

intention of letting me go. I could feel his breath on my neck, slow

and even.

Then it hit me.

The ache.

A deep, dull soreness pulsed between my thighs, a reminder of

everything that had happened last night–every whispered promise,

every slow thrust, every time he murmured my name like a prayer

against my skin.

I stretched, wincing slightly, and tried to shift away from the bed, but

his grip tightened.

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Chapter 58

“Mmm,” Damian’s voice was gravelly and low, laced with sleep and

sin. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to…” I trailed off, suddenly shy. “Move.”

He chuckled, his lips brushing against my bare shoulder. “You’re

sore.”

I didn’t answer, but the way I tensed under him made it obvious.

Damian exhaled, then shifted, pulling away just enough to see my

face.

His eyes roamed over me–my tangled hair, flushed cheeks, the marks

he’d left behind. He looked… smug. And yet, so tender.

“You should’ve told me to stop,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles

against my cheek.

“I didn’t want you to stop,” I whispered back.

His gaze darkened, but he swallowed hard and kissed my forehead.

“Still. Let me take care of you.”

Before I could respond, he pulled the covers back and scooped me into his arms like I weighed nothing. I let out a surprised squeak,

curling into his chest.

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Chapter 58

“Damian!”

“I said I’d take care of you.” His voice was firm, but amused. “That

means bathing you, feeding you, and making sure you don’t leave this

bed until you’re able to walk without wincing.”

I buried my face in his neck, trying to hide how hot my cheeks were.

He carried me into the bathroom, the marble tiles cold against his

bare feet. The light was soft, diffused by the frosted windows. He set

me down on the edge of the tub, then turned to adjust the water,

testing it with his fingers.

“You have a whole spa in here,” I murmured, looking around at the oversized glass shower, the jets, the gold fixtures.

He smiled over his shoulder. “Perks of being an Alpha. And a mafia

boss.”

I rolled my eyes. “You forgot arrogant.”

He turned, stepping between my legs, his hands resting on my thighs. “Don’t test me, Selene,” he warned softly, leaning in close. “I’ll lay you down on this floor and remind you who made you scream last

night.”

My breath caught in my throat. Just like that, my soreness was

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forgotten for a moment, replaced by a sharp flutter in my belly.

He kissed the corner of my mouth, then helped me to my feet. His

hands were gentle as he led me into the shower, the warm water cascading down our skin. Damian stood behind me, taking the time to soap my arms, my back, even wash my hair like it was the most

natural thing in the world.

His fingers were soothing, massaging my scalp, his silence filled with unspoken affection. Every touch said what he didn’t–You’re mine.

You’re safe. You’re loved.

After the shower, he wrapped me in a thick towel and carried me back

to bed.

“Wait here,” he said with a smirk. “And don’t you dare try to get up.”

I saluted him lazily as he disappeared downstairs.

Five minutes later, the scent of fresh eggs, bacon, and honey–drizzled toast hit my nose. Damian reappeared with a silver tray in hand- complete with a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, and a rose in a

slim vase.

I stared.

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“Did you just… bring me breakfast in bed?”

He set the tray down carefully and leaned in. “I told you—I take care

of what’s mine.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t say anything. Just reached out, took his

hand, and pulled him down beside me.

I nibbled on the toast as he watched me, still shirtless, hair damp

from the shower, looking far too smug for someone who nearly broke

me last night. I poked him in the side.

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

e

“Am not.”

“I’m allowed,” he said. “You’re glowing.”

“Are too.”

We fell into a quiet rhythm. Me eating, him stealing bites from my plate when he thought I wasn’t looking, and the occasional soft brush of his lips on my shoulder. Just as I was finishing the tea, the door

slammed open.

“Good morning, lovebirds!” Mira’s voice rang through the room like a

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war horn.

I nearly choked.

Damian groaned. “Gods help me.”

Mira stood in the doorway, eyes wide, a devilish grin spreading across her face as she took in the scene: the tray, the rose, me in Damian’s

shirt with bed–tousled hair and bite marks across my neck.

“Oh. My. Goddess,” she said, clapping her hands. “It happened, didn’t

it?!”

“Mira-”

“You did it! You finally got deflowered by Mafia Alpha Sex God

himself!”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can someone throw her out,

please?”

I turned beet red. Mira bounded onto the bed and flopped beside me,

eyeing the tray.

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