Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Like I didn’t already want to fuck her brains out.
Then she looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes so commanding they burned straight into me.
I think that was the biggest turn-on of all.
I lay beside her, most of her naked body exposed above the sheets because she was still warm, even though I was the one who’d done all the work tonight.
No complaints.
She was the kind of woman that made me want to do all the dirty work—no pun intended. Her eyes opened like she knew I was staring at her, and she looked at me. She was on her side, her face close to my shoulder. She held my look for a while but didn’t say anything.
I appreciated her confidence. When she made eye contact, she wasn’t in a hurry to look away and pretend it never happened. She could hold her own against me, never become dwarfed by my intensity. I was very aware of the way I made people around me feel, either intimidated or outright scared.
That didn’t apply to Laura.
“It’s time for me to go.” A full night awaited my attention. My men knew I wasn’t as focused as I normally was, that I showed up late to meetings or didn’t come at all. But no one dared question me about it.
“Is this how it’ll be in Florence?” she asked. “Will you be gone all night?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re like a vampire. Sleep all day…out all night.”
“It’s fitting—because I spill a lot of blood.”
Growing up in an Italian crime family must have made her numb to these sorts of things, because she didn’t give any reaction. She’d initially wanted nothing to do with me because of my criminal behavior, but now she excused all of it because I made her come so hard. “What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”
“Late afternoon.” After I woke up.
“Alright. I’ll be ready.” She left the bed and pulled on a large t-shirt, a t-shirt that fit her like a blanket. It was gray with a V neck. I wasn’t into fashion, but as a man, I could tell it was a man’s shirt—and it wasn’t mine.
A bolt of lightning flashed through me. The heat was searing on my extremities. Even made my eyes burn. I suddenly felt hot everywhere, the same heat before I exploded and killed someone with my boot.
But then I swallowed—and it passed.
I got out of bed and put on my clothes. Slipped on my boots before I tied them tight. She walked me to the door, her hair disheveled from the fucking, her lips a little plumper from all the kissing. Her makeup was now ruined, the tears she’d shed streaking everything below her eyes.
But all I could think about was that shirt.
That fucking shirt.
She opened the door, not caring if someone happened to be in the hallway and caught a glimpse of her half naked. “Good night.” Her hand remained on the handle, and she watched me cross the threshold.
We never kissed each other good night or embraced. All she did was let me out. “Good night.” I moved into the hallway and heard the door shut behind me. The lock clicked a moment later.
But then I halted.
Let it go.
I stood there, looking at the stairs at the very end, willing myself to move forward.
Let. It. Go.
I clenched my jaw, feeling anger I couldn’t control. It was like riding a wild horse without reins.
I turned back around.
Fuck.
I knocked on her door and waited.
It took her a moment to come back to the door, and when she did, her hair was in a bun, like she was about to brush her teeth and wash her face before bed. “Did you forget something?”
“No.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine before she backed away slightly. “Is there a problem…?”
I invited myself inside and shut the door. “Yes.” I stared down at her, watching her cross her arms over her chest and hug that shirt even closer to her body.
“Are you going to tell me what it is—”
“Whose shirt is that?”
She paused for a second before she looked down at what she wore. It took her several seconds to catch up to me, to understand what got me hotter than a volcano. “It’s just a shirt—”
“Answer my question.” Sometimes my temper got the best of me and I acted like the psychotic drug lord that I was, but I had to restrain my voice, keep my body absolutely still. Otherwise, I would scare her off.
Her arms crossed over her chest again, like she didn’t want to answer the question. “It doesn’t matter—”
“Why won’t you answer my fucking question?” I still didn’t yell, but I seethed—hard.
“Because it’s none of your business,” she snapped. “That’s why.”
I stopped breathing for a moment, so pissed off with her lack of compliance that I wanted to smash all the wooden chairs around her dining table. “None of my business?” I took a step toward her, and instinctively, she took a step back. “If you came to my home and found a thong in my top drawer, you’d be asking the same question.”