“Already?” I snatched my hand away before he could feel the nervous tremble, while my gaze flew to the bedroom door as if his family would come bursting through it at any moment. I hadn’t thought about the fact that I’d have to meet his family. What were they like? What if they didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like them? “Can’t it wait?”
“We’re getting married, baby,” he reminded me while reclaiming my hand. I was in his lap, but he still couldn’t seem to stop touching me.
I almost asked if I could just meet his people at the wedding, but he was already shaking his head, answering my unspoken question. “Fine.”
This time, he nipped my fingers, making me yelp. “Don’t be a brat.” Ocean sat back in his seat and seemed content just to stare at me. I nervously retied my robe just to give myhands something to do, and his gaze dipped down briefly before returning to mine again.
“Don’t you have mafia business to do?” I grumbled before I became completely undone.
Ocean chuckled as he rested his cheek on his propped fist and swung his knee back and forth. I could feel the muscles in his thigh flexing with each movement. “Mafia business, Coby?”
“Yeah, like ordering hits on people, having meetings in smoky restaurants with dark lighting, and shoot-outs in a black town car.” Ocean merely raised a brow. “My name is Antonio Montana,” I imitated Al Pacino’s accent fromScarface. “And you? What you call yourself?” The brown in Ocean’s eyes lightened as if I were a wonder to him, so I blurted, “Skrrt skrrt.”
Ocean lost his composure, tossing his head back and exposing his Adam’s apple to me as he laughed even harder this time. I quickly clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my giggles.
I made the underboss of theFolalaugh.
I could only admit to myself that I liked this newfound power of mine. He looked so normal and younger when he smiled. And I realized with an aching heart that he probably didn’t get to do it often.
The second most powerful man in the city had no one to make him smile.
It made my heart hurt.
“Yeah, you watch too much TV,” he said after his laughter subsided.
“Actually, I prefer to read.”
Ocean nodded like this wasn’t news to him, and then seemed to catch himself when I narrowed my gaze. “What do you like to read?” he asked while looking guilty as hell.
“You mean youdon’talready know, stalker?”
“I do,” he said while looking bashful and ashamed for the first time, “but I want you to tell me anyway.”
“I like poetry,” I answered, since it was my favorite. “I used to write them in middle school, but I stopped.”
“Why?”
“My parents died.”
Ocean didn’t outwardly react other than to pull me closer. “I’m sorry.”
My nose began to tingle, so I shook my head before I could yield to sorrow I’d convinced myself I was past. “It’s okay.”
“What else do you like to read?”
“Romance. The smuttier, the better,” I said proudly.
Ocean grinned. “What else?”
“Sci-fi, lit fic, women’s fiction, mystery…”
“So everything.”
“No.” I frowned. “I can’t read horror or thriller.”
“Why not?”
I blinked. “It’s scary.”
