The Woman in the Woods (Costa Family #8) Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Costa Family Series by Jessica Gadziala
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
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Then his hands were on me, moving over my face, neck, shoulders, back, stomach, legs. Looking for something, but I couldn’t quite figure out what.

“Is she hit?” Miko asked, rushing up.

“No. I don’t think so. I think she’s in shock or some shit.”

“Get her inside,” Miko suggested. “We will double-check everything,” he added.

Then Silvano was scooping me up and carrying me toward the cabin.

He placed me gently down on the bed, then moved around in the dark, finding the camping lanterns, and turning them on before coming back to me, looking me over again.

It wasn’t until I saw something that I started to click back into my own mind, my own body.

Red.

Running down his arm.

A strangled cry escaped me as my hand went toward it.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, pushing my hand away. “It’s a graze. Stop,” he demanded as I tried to pull up his sleeve. “Millie, stop,” he barked, voice firm enough to finally snap me back, feeling a little disjointed, but fully aware again. Fully me.

“You’re shot.”

“I’m fine. I told you I’d be fine. I told you to stay in the hotel. I told you—“

“Now who’s bitching?” I interjected, catching him off-guard enough to let out a snorting laugh. “You’re welcome,” I added.

“I had my gun raised, Mills,” he said, voice soft, regretful. Even his eyes were uncharacteristically sad.

Like he was sorry that I’d used the gun, that I’d taken a life. Like he was worried I might regret it.

“I was faster,” I said. “I’m not sorry,” I said, voice a little weaker than I wanted. But I meant it. I really did. “I would have shot all of them to save you,” I added, feeling the tears finally prick my eyes. “I was just… the panic… it was too much. I’m not sorry,” I added, sniffling.

“Okay,” he said, reaching upward, wiping some of the tears off my cheek. “It’s alright. It’s all over now. For good,” he assured me.

I gave him a nod.

Then threw myself at him.

“You’re not allowed to be so stupid again,” I told him as his arms squeezed me tight enough to make it hard to breathe. But didn’t care. It meant he was here. With me. Alive.

“Can’t make that fucking promise,” he said, making my lips curve up. “Where the fuck did Miko and Nero come from?” he asked.

“Neo’s car,” I explained.

“Right.”

“Then Miko…”

“Yeah,” he cut me off. “I know how Miko operates,” he told me as his hands slid up and down my back.

It was just a comforting touch.

And it seemed impossible—wrong, even—but I felt desire building. Strong. Undeniable. Almost overwhelming.

Suddenly, I was reminded about something I’d heard once. About how people tended to have sex after life-or-death situations, or even after funerals. Like some part of us innately needed to know we were still alive, that we could feel things, that everything was okay.

All I knew was that I needed him.

I pulled back enough to seal my lips to his, kissing him hard and hungry as I pulled him down over me on the bed, my arms and legs wrapping him up.

My hips rocked up against him as a low groan escaped him as his cock hardened against me.

“Mills, we can’t,” he murmured against my lips.

But I didn’t want to hear it.

We could.

We had to.

My restless hands yanked at his pants and underwear until I had his cock free, had the hard, thick length of him in my hand, stroking him until he was panting for breath, until he was as far gone as I felt right then.

“Fuck it,” he growled, sitting back on his knees, then reaching to yank my pants and panties off.

I reached for him, pulling him over me again, feeling him shift so his cock was against my cleft, rubbing, teasing, but not giving me what I needed.

“Mills, we can’t,” he murmured, sounding pained, in my neck, grinding down harder against me like that could satisfy me when I needed to feel him inside me, claiming me once again.

“It’s okay,” I told him, my fingers digging into his ass, trying to shift him down. “I’m on birth control,” I added, then gasped as the head of his cock teased over my clit. “And my tests are clear,” I added.

A low groan escaped him.

“I’m clear too,” he said, voice tight, as he shifted back, his cock pressing against me, then surging inside, the sensation more intense without anything between us. “Fuck,” he groaned, forehead pressing to mine as he tried to find some control.

I didn’t want control.

I wanted him hard and fast, fucking me to oblivion.

I hooked my legs around him, and ground into him.

He took the hint, took the lead, fucking me exactly how I wanted it, his hand crushing against my mouth, muffling my moans as I got closer and closer, then cried out my release against his palm, the whole world falling away at the intensity of the orgasm.


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