I’ve never had sex before, but just thinking about it makes my stomach flutter and my pulse pound.
My wet lips feel swollen and tight beneath my fingers, and I press my lips together as a whimper of pleasure rushes up my throat.
“I want you,” Leo murmurs in my mind, my subconscious drawing his soft, rasping voice to the surface for me at just the right time.
And in a matter of seconds, I’m toppling over the edge into oblivion at the thought of Leonardo Chiaroscuro’s touch.
8
LEO
Tie hanging loosely around my neck, several buttons undone on my shirt, I sling one leg over a side of the overstuffed leather armchair where I recline.
Stiff martini in hand, I’m grateful that while my father turned in for the night after the rehearsal dinner guests left, Miko, Gio, and the twins joined me for a final nightcap—or three.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married tomorrow,” Raf says, his lips quirking into a crooked grin as he swirls the vodka around his glass. “I genuinely thought we’d lose you to a heart attack at eighty years old, three pretty young birds naked in your bed, one with her lips wrapped around your cock.”
“You’re disgusting,” Miko says, launching a throw pillow at him, which Raf snatches out of the air.
“Seriously, what the hell are you doing picturing my deathormy sex life? You’re disturbed,” I add.
“Just saying,” he quips. “I didn’t think dear old Dad would get you to the altar so easily.”
“Not like I have much of a choice,” I grumble, downing the rest of my drink and sitting up to prop my elbows on my knees. “Feeling generous?” I ask, tipping my empty glass toward Gio.
“You should slow down unless you want to be drunk for the ceremony tomorrow,” he warns, but still, Giovanni rises from his chair to make me another.
“Don’t tempt me,” I warn darkly.
“You really don’t want her, do you?” Sandro asks, tilting his head as he studies me curiously. “She’s pretty enough. It’ll be good for the family, so what’s the big deal?”
“It’s not about how pretty she is, Sandro,” Raf says, slapping his identical twin lightly on the shoulder.
If Raf is the brains, Sandro’s the brawn of my two youngest brothers, two halves to an indestructible whole, and for all Raf’s intelligence and cold, hard logic, Sandro is the one with enough emotion for them both.
Typically, it manifests in massive explosions of violent rage that he’s learned to focus somewhat—which is why he spends so much time in the fighting pits.
But when it comes to Raf, Sandro has never once raised his hand.
He won’t even spar with his twin, though he and Miko train with each other regularly, which his why they’re the brothers no one wants to screw with.
“Leo wants the freedom to pick his own wife—or not pick one, rather. Why settle down when he has a constant source of fresh pussy at his disposal, right, Bro?” Raf finishes.
“Lay off him, Raf. You know that’s not why he’s doing it,” Gio cuts in.
I swear peacemaking is built into his DNA, but tonight, I’m grateful for it, because my mind is too preoccupied to keep my younger brothers in line.
And annoyingly, it’s a specific Japanese bride whom I can’t seem to get off my mind.
“If it’s any comfort, I agree that it would be better to go to war than accept this alliance with the Yakuza,” Miko says. “I don’t trust them any more than you do.”
Casting him a sidelong glance, I give a grateful nod. “Thanks.” Then I accept my next drink from Gio. “I just don’t see how this can fix things. We’ve been fighting with the Yakuza for decades.”
“And we’ve seen where fighting gets us,” Gio points out, dropping back onto the couch where he was sitting.
A heavy silence settles around the room because Gio would know better than any of us what can happen if the wrong family decides you’re their enemy.
Once upon a time, I thought he’d be my first brother to get married.
