Need Him Like Oxygen (Lombardi Famiglia #2) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Lombardi Famiglia Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
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Just slathering it on conjured a bunch of mental images that I had no business thinking of on a good day, let alone when I was badly beaten.

But there was no denying the way my skin started to warm and my core ached in the painful knot of desire as the scent filled the air of the shower around me as well.

I pretended to ignore it as I washed the grime from the attack and days of lazing in bed off of my skin, catching sight of bruises I hadn’t even known existed until then. Up my arms, down my legs, over my hip and stomach. I saw more purple and blue than I did my actual skin tone as I looked myself over.

Finished with that, I reached for the bottle of shampoo… then nearly blacked out when my hands lifted past my chest.

The string of curses I let out was enough to make my fellow mafia capos blush.

“Ready to admit defeat yet?” Dev called from outside of the door. “Or are you intent on making this harder on yourself than absolutely necessary?”

“Fine,” I grumbled, reaching a hand to drape across my breasts.

I wasn’t overly modest. He was going to see my full ass. But with all of the comments about my boobs over the years, I felt weird letting him see them in this sort of context.

Not that there would ever be any other sort of context. There wouldn’t be.

“And by ‘fine,’ I assume you mean Hey, Dav, thanks for helping me not look like a swamp creature,” he said as he moved into the bathroom.

To his credit, he didn’t ogle me.

He moved toward the shower niche, glanced at the removable shower wand, hemming and hawing something.

“What are you doing?” I asked when he reached to yank off his shirt.

Because him being all close and shirtless with his hands on me was totally not going to help this situation.

“The water will run up my arms and soak me,” he explained. “Besides, now we’re more equal,” he said, waving down at himself.

Did my gaze follow?

Yes, yes it did.

What can I say? Dav took care of himself. I didn’t know what other workouts he fit into his busy schedule of bedroom cardio, but it was all working to his benefit.

I mean you could sink a finger in those abdominal muscles. Run your tongue…

Nope.

Not going there.

“What?” I asked at his raised brow look, wondering if I’d been caught eye-banging him.

“Unless you want water and soap in your eyes, you’re gonna need to tilt your head back for me,” he explained.

Right.

Duh.

Being naked with a half-clothed Dav was doing something to my brain.

Or maybe I had sustained some sort of head injury after all.

Because I’d never struggled this hard to stop thinking about getting hot and sweaty with the man before.

I tilted my head back, letting him soak it through again before placing the wand back in the cradle, positioning it so it sprayed across my back, keeping me from catching a chill as he lathered up the shampoo and reached for my scalp.

The second his fingers started to rub at my scalp, a shiver racked its way through my system, making his hands freeze.

“Cold?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I insisted, even as my belly did somersaults and my heartbeat kicked into overdrive.

What the hell was going on?

I’d been fully naked, getting hot and heavy with men before, and never felt anywhere near as attuned to my body as I was right then, so overwhelmed with sensations.

My skin felt flushed and overly sensitive. My breasts heavy and nipples tensing into points.

Then, well, all the aching and heat in my core. That primal part of me wishing he would run his hand down my stomach, slip it between my thighs, and sink his fingers inside of me.

“Feel good?” he asked, making my eyes snap open as I realized with no small amount of mortification that I’d let out a little moan.

“What? No,” I said, attempting an eye roll for emphasis. “I think you hit a bruise,” I was quick to add. To lie.

“A bruise,” he repeated. “Right. Maybe I should be gentler,” he said. And, damn him, those gentler fingers felt even better.

Desire was a live wire through my body right then, little sparks threatening to set off an entire wildfire.

Then the man had to go and cup his hand over my forehead to keep soap from getting in my eyes when he rinsed.

“What am I, a toddler?” I grumbled to hide the way my chest felt all gooey at the gesture.

“Definitely not,” he said, his voice a bit deeper than usual, making another shiver move through me, this time on the inside. “Not done,” he said when I started to move away.

“It’s clean,” I insisted, knowing I needed to put some space between us as quickly as possible.


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