Once my stomach growls, I make myself head downstairs, staying in an oversized t-shirt and my silky pajama pants.
I’m not dressing up for Angelo. I refuse. But I feel his gaze on me the second I walk into the kitchen.
I text Eric, saying I need a break from Angelo, so he’ll have to plan for someone else to cover me for a night.
I don’t want to be alone with him another night.
Angelo says nothing at first. But I notice the shift. The chef and a few others slip out as I step into the kitchen. Then, a second later…
A soft kiss lands at the nape of my neck.
“I wish you would have slept with me.”
I freeze. My breath catches, my fingers twitch.
“You don’t always get…” I start, ready to snap back.
But then I swallow it down.
Instead, my voice softens. “Why?”
His hand slides over my hip, a slow, possessive touch—a reminder.
Of how he feels behind me. Inside me. His breath grazes my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Because then…” His voice is rough, edged with something dangerous.
“I’d hope you’d come back once it’s safe.”
“Why isn’t it safe?” I whirl around, my pulse spiking.
“Angelo, it’s my job to keep you here. To keep you safe. If I can’t do that, I’m the one at fault.”
My breath rushes out, my chest rising, falling.
“Fuck leaving. I’m staying.”
My voice hardens. “And I’m going to make damn sure you live, so you have to deal with the consequences of?—”
His mouth descends on mine in a punishing kiss. He pulls back. His lips find mine again. Slower this time, softer.
His tongue slides between my lips, coaxing, easing me open, as he cups the back of my neck gentle, steady.
Too soft, that I don’t know how to push him away. When he’s rough and demanding, it pisses me off enough that I can shove him away, but when he’s like this ... all I can do is feel my body swoon against him.
Angelo draws back, brushing a kiss over my forehead. “I’ll live and you can take me right into jail. I’ll get out in a few days at most, but maybe you’ll feel better about me then.”
“How many people will you leave alive in jail?” I demand.
His eyes study mine. “Give me a number.”
“All of them.”
“It might be doable ... if I’m in solitary,” he says with a naughty smile and a wink. “If I’m in gen ... I’ll have to kill whoever comes out of the woodwork to kill me.”
I roll my eyes. He catches my bottom lip, nipping it softly, teasingly.
His breath ghosts over my mouth as he murmurs, “But I promise not to kill on your behalf, Topolina.”
