My body shudders, clit still throbbing, my core wet and tingling with urgent need.
Give me what I want?
He just did.
CHAPTER 11
CELINE
After pulling on a T-shirt, I lead her into the rear of the house, into the kitchen. She’s got her arms wrapped across her middle again. Her scrubs cannot hide her gorgeous, curvy body. I need to text Julian and ask him to bring her more clothes.
But some fucked-up part of me likes her like this. Sweaty. Messy. Red-cheeked and ready for more.
She keeps her distance. Like she’s afraid of what will happen if we physically get too close. It’s not like I can blame her for that.
I didn’t plan on doing that in the gym. But the second her hand touched me, it felt like a dam burst in me with desperation to be inside of her, to feel her, to taste her, to own her.
Focus.
She pauses in the kitchen, watching me as I lean down and remove the false floorboards.
“Do all mobsters have secret prisons?”
“Only the really evil ones,” I grunt.
She flinches as if she doesn’t want to think that about me. Or perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part.
“Do you have a first-aid kit?” she asks.
“Under the sink.”
She walks to the counter, finds the first-aid kit, and brings it to the hidden basement opening.
“He doesn’t deserve this, Celine,” I remind her.
“I patched you up, remember? Are you saying you’re any better than him?”
Yes. I don’t kill women. I don’t kill children. I’ve got a goddamn code. Only kill people who deserve it. Not that I’ve ever let the streets know that. If I’m smart, I won’t let Celine know either. Let her believe I’m a monster, and perhaps that’ll keep us away from each other.
“That’s all the answer I need,” she snaps when I don’t reply.
I open the basement hatch and then switch on the lights. Stairs lead down a narrow corridor with a door at the end. I walk ahead of her, not trusting myself to be behind her. To get a view of that perfect ass squeezed into those scrubs.
Even now, when I should be thinking about how messed up this is, I want to grab her ass. Squeeze it. Spank it. Bite it. Own it.
I open the door to the cell. It’s a small, simple room with a toilet, a sink, a bunk bed, and a small kitchen area. Rico is handcuffed to the bed, sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him, and blood matted to his hair.
For someone who’s done so many bad things, he does a good job of playing innocent. Gets all watery-eyed when he sees I’m withCeline. Looks up at her as if he wasn’t going to warp her reality for the rest of her life in that alleyway.
It might be the first-aid kit that does it. He thinks she’s weak.
“I’m going to check your head,” Celine says. “Can you remain calm while I do that, sir?”
“Please,” Rico whispers. “Water.”
“Water?” I growl. “You’ve been down here for an hour tops, you sick bastard. Don’t tug on her heartstrings.”
Celine glares at me, seeming annoyed that I’m getting involved.
