“I’m not romanticizing it but she is locked away in a tower, isn’t she?”
“She’s at an excellent girl’s school getting an excellent education. And I think that’s enough on the DeMarco topic.”
She stands abruptly, takes her cup to the sink. “What happened to your hand?” she asks with her back to me.
I look at it, notice the bruise forming there. “Nothing.”
“Business?”
I have to admit, she’s observant. When I’d had to leave so abruptly last time it was because of news about that idiot Joe Vitelli. Roman had thought I’d been too lenient. I’ve always known my uncle has a taste for blood. But this time, he’d been right. My talk with the brothers didn’t quite set the younger one straight. Because Joe had a meeting I’m pretty sure his brother wasn’t aware of with a family who is a very clear enemy of ours.
After my visit with the younger Vitelli brother this morning, though, he’s not going to be talking to anyone for a while. In fact, he’ll be lucky if he ever talks again.
The chair scrapes the floor when I push back. I’m behind her before she can turn. I reach around her, set my cup in the sink, and I look at her, turn her to face me. She grips the counter behind her.
“You asked me why I was here earlier. Well, I’m here because I want to see you.”
Her eyes go wide, nervously searching mine.
“There’s something about you that keeps drawing me back, so here I am. And I think you feel the same.”
“I—”
“Now about the hand, do you want me to lie to you?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“You know who I am. Who my family is.”
“I need to remember it.”
When she won’t look at me, I make her. “I’m just a man, Natalie.” She’s silent. “Flesh and bone.” I snake one hand up along her spine to cup the back of her head, curl my fingers into her hair and tug her head backward. “And you make me want.”
Her throat works when she licks her lips. Swallows. “Wrong place, wrong time.”
“What?”
“There was a convenience store robbery in my neighborhood six years ago. I was fourteen. You said that after you shot the man who would have raped me.”
I study her. Search her eyes. And slowly, it comes together.
I don’t remember much about that day. Literally, I’d stumbled on the robbery. I’d needed to take a piss after a rough night of partying. Hell, I may have still been drunk. The two perps were stoned. Idiots. But when I saw the asshole trying to get the kid’s jeans off, I lost it. Told her to shut her eyes and shot the fucker so he’d never be fucking anyone ever again.
I walked away before the cops came. Took that piss and left.
“You have a bad habit, then, of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I lean down, touch my lips to hers. They’re soft. And she doesn’t push me away. I don’t close my eyes when I kiss her. Take her lip between mine and taste her.
“You taste good. I knew you would.”
She doesn’t know what to say. I bring my mouth to her ear and inhale, touching the scruff of my jaw to her smooth cheek as I take in her scent. Smell her want. And when I lean my face down and push her sweater aside to kiss the delicate curve of her neck, she gasps, sets her hands flat to my chest, but again, she doesn’t push me away.
I draw back. My dick is hard. She sees it pressing against my pants and swallows when she returns her dark eyes to mine, blacker now with her pupils dilated. Before she can say anything, I pull her sweater over her head and lift her up to set her on the counter. With my hands on her thighs, I push her legs wide and stand between them.
“I liked looking at you that night,” I say. She’s almost at eye level now. Just has to tilt her head up a little.
“What?” her voice wavers when she asks it.
“I liked it. Liked you naked. I liked opening you. Seeing you. All of you. And after I brought you home, I looked at your pictures. Memorized them.”
