She pouted but rose up on her knees, teetering. “Come to me,amante,” she said. Her voice was almost a breathless whisper. “You have the kind of body that needs to be licked. The rain would taste so good on your skin.”
“What about your husband?”
Pausing for a moment, she thought this over. “Eff him. I want you! All I want is you.” She ripped my shirt apart, the buttons flying into the darkness. “You’re wet. All wet. I want to be wet too. God, you’re fine. No. More than fine. I don’t think there’s a word for what you are. What’s your name?”
She was out of her mind with want. When I would move her, just to push her back some, she would moan and tremble, like I had touched her in a sensitive spot.
“What does your husband look like?”
She narrowed her eyes, studying me. She cocked her head to the side. “I—I don’t remember.”
“Does he look like me, baby?”Remember me!
“It would be a serious letdown if he didn’t,” she said, and then she breathed out, “Oh, call me that again.Baby.”
She bit my lip, hard, and I licked at the wound, tasting salt and blood. She pulled back, mimicking me, licking her own lips, but slower.
“I feel like a woman in a sleazy romance novel,” she said, hands going to her clothes to remove them.
“Keep them on.” Never in my life did I ever imagine those fucking words leaving my mouth.
“No!”
I pushed her down, to try and get her under control, and she fell over with a dramatic plop. Her arms reached out for the sheets, her legs opening. She moved up and down, her fists around the thin fabric so tight that she trapped the blood in her fingers. The blood from her head caked in her hair, mostly clotted, but a few lines ran down, staining the pure white bedding crimson.
“Ah,” she made a breathless noise. “The sheets. Stained with blood. I’m not a virgin anymore. You feelsogood. I’d bleed for you again and again.”
Anger rose up in me so ferociously that I knew my own eyes were dilated from the strain of it. I blinked back the wetness welling up, the heat of my temperature drying up the tears before they could fall.
A knock came at the door. I picked her up, and she clung to the top sheet and me, wrapping the silk around us both. She was attempting to get to my mouth again.
At my command, Donato came in, followed by two men in his charge and a young-looking Greek man.
Donato pointed at the Greek. “He is a doctor.”
“Dr. Sala,” Rocco said, coming in. There was fresh blood on his shirt. “Tell me where he is.”
La famigliatraveled with their own physician when they were away from home.
“He will be here shortly,” Donato answered. “Until then.” He shoved the guy forward.
I groaned, trying to wrestle with Scarlett. She had moved lower, lips and tongue along my chest, her fingers down the slope of my stomach, and she was fumbling with my zipper. Using a bit of force, I pushed her up, and she was content to nibble on my ear.
“I told you!” the Greek man said. “I can do nothing—” He eyed Scarlett. “It is she! I especially cannot do a thing for her—”
Donato moved so quickly that Rocco didn’t have a chance to react. He pulled a gun from his holster, holding it to the Greek’s temple. “Tell me again,” Donato said, running his top teeth over his bottom lip, “what you will not do for Signora Fausti.”
“I-I-” the man stuttered out, “I am a plastic surgeon, Signore! I tell her earlier, she is the most classic beauty I have ever seen. I mean this. Her legs…as you can see, should be insured. Her jaw structure is flawless! Such high cheekbones! Those eyes are exotic…”
He took a step forward and Donato took a step forward.
“May I?” The Greek reached a tentative hand out to Scarlett’s head.
I gave him permission. He came in closer, his hand closing over her head. He turned her a fraction, and she eyed him, head cocked to the side. His fingers must have brushed the sensitive spot along her hairline and she bit at him, her teeth snapping.
He pulled his hand back, quick.
“What has she had?”
