Nerves fire at me as my shaky fingers move to the edge of my cover-up. My mouth feels dry, and butterflies swoop into my chest, making me feel a little nauseated. I wish this was as natural for me as it is to my bestie, but I have led a pretty sheltered life, and I’m not adept at flirting or putting myself out there. But I want that to change, so I summon my lady balls and draw a brave breath. It’s now or never, I remind myself, slowly pulling my cover-up over my body until it’s off and I’m gripping it in my hands.
Feigning confidence, I hold my shoulders back and smile sweetly at the boys watching me. A low whistle rings out, and heat floods my cheeks as I see how they are all staring at me with their mouths hanging open, their eyes dark with desire.
“Fucking hell.” Alonso slams to a halt in front of my lounger as I lie back, conscious there are plenty of other eyes watching my every move. “You are fucking beautiful, Natalia. No wonder Mateo has kept you hidden.” I’m tempted to tell him I have made an appearance at previous parties, but he clearly didn’t notice me.
“Thank you.” I smile as I accept the cold wine cooler from his hand.
“You are gorgeous too,” he tells Frankie, as he dispenses her drink.
“I like your dimples,” she says. “And I’m impressed at how fast you got our drinks. If you were looking to earn brownie points, you did a good job.”
Alonso practically preens under her appraising words, and I grin to myself as I take a sip of my drink.
“Hey, Nat.” A guy I know as one of Mateo’s close crew sinks onto the side of my lounger. “Wow. When did you get so grown up?” His hungry gaze grazes my body, lingering on my chest, and there is no disguising the growing bulge in his swim shorts.
Very soon, we are surrounded with admirers, and I’m more than a little out of my depth. But I wing it. Acting shy and demure, letting the guys do all the talking. The only one who isn’t fawning over me is Santino, but every time I look in his direction, his heated gaze is pinned on me.
So, of course, he’s the one I want.
He’s definitely a few years older than most of the guys crowding around us. With his olive skin, dark hair, sculpted jawline, and Roman nose, he is obviously Italian American. But he’s not asoldato,so he’s either an associate or just a casual friend not affiliated with themafioso. Intricate ink covers both arms, spilling over onto his impressive chest, and he’s got a piercing in his nose and through one of his eyebrows. His hair is slicked back off his face, and he’s sporting a stylish layer of stubble. Santino is an unusual combination of classically handsome with a side of dark edginess, and I’m intrigued. The fact he’s not tripping over himself to drool at me only adds to the appeal.
I half listen to the other guys, throwing out a flirtatious laugh here and there, while Santino and I drill potent looks at one another. I don’t think he’s the kind of man to let something like stupid Italian traditions stop him from getting with me. But he’s not the type to come to me either. I bet the man never has to chase any girl. I bet they flock to him like bees swarming a beehive.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” a man with a deep, familiar voice says, his tone carrying barely concealed anger.
Sitting up a little straighter, ensuring the girls are on full display, I eye Leo over the top of my drink. “It’s called a bikini. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term.”
God, he’s magnificent without a shirt. Broad shoulders give way to an impressive chest, tapered waist, and a solid six-pack. Biceps roll and flex in his arms as he clenches and unclenches his fists, struggling to keep his eyes on my face. His tan skin carries a light sheen, and the tantalizing line of dark hair sneaking underneath the band of his swim shorts causes saliva to pool in my mouth.
“Cover yourself up,” he hisses, snatching my cover-up off the patio floor and throwing it at me.
I toss it back in his face. “You’re not my father, and you don’t get to tell me what to do.” Taking a healthy mouthful of my wine cooler, I lie back, tipping my face up to the sun and subtly thrusting my chest forward.
“Who gave you this?” he barks, swiping the bottle from my fingers.
“I did,” Alonso says, dropping his conversation with Frankie and standing. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem,stronzo,” Leo says, shoving Alonso’s shoulders, “is she’s seventeen and she’s Mateo’s little sister.”
“She’s all woman from what I’ve seen,” Santino says, speaking for the first time. “And it’s not like she’s doing anything wrong. You need to chill the fuck out.”
“This doesn’t involve you, and how the fuck are you here?” Anger bristles on Leo’s skin, and I watch the hostile glares being traded between both men.
Interesting.
There is some beef between them.
Now, I really want to make out with Santino, especially if it will push Leo’s buttons.
“He’s my brother,” Alonso says, losing all good humor as he pushes his chest into Leo’s. “And Mateo said I could bring whoever I wanted.”
“Fuck this shit,” Leo says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Get up.” He leans over, reaching for my arm.
Swinging my legs over the other side of the lounger, ensuring Santino gets a good look at my body, I slowly stand and stride toward Leo with my chin held high. “Fuck you, Leo. This is my house. My pool. And I have every right to be here. If you don’t like it, go complain to someone who cares.” Taking a risk, I spin around and walk confidently toward Santino, my eyes pinning him in place as I silently beg him not to turn me away. Without stopping to second-guess myself, I drop down on his lap, challenging him with a heated stare.
His arms instantly band around me, and a slow smile curls up the corners of his mouth.
“Get the fuck away from him!” Leo roars, storming toward us and yanking me off Santino’s lap. He jabs his finger in Santino’s face as he stands. “You keep your hands off her, or I’ll fucking cut them off!”
