Was it me she wanted last night? Or did she just want a willing participant in her fantasy, and I was the most convenient option?
I haven’t missed how things have warmed between us since Ibiza, but last night was the first time she took the initiative and came to me. And for all I know, it was a one-time fluke.
If it was, that would be a good thing. I’m supposed to stay away from her. That’s what Dem wants me to do, and he’s my don. We didn’t fuck. She’s still probably marrying that cocksucker. She’s still entirely out of my reach.
Tell me last night meant nothing. That it was a mistake.
If she says those words to me, I swear I’ll leave her alone.
I’ll wrap up my business here, go home, and probably spend the rest of my nights thinking of her while staring at my bedroom ceiling, but I’ll manage.
Somehow, I’ll manage.
She glances at me from beneath her lashes and awkwardly shifts in place. “I wanted to say bye in person.” Her voice is husky. Raw.
A shiver runs down my spine.
“That’s…” I take a sip of coffee, looking for the right words. “That’s nice of you.” I sound like a fucking moron.
She bites down on her lip. “Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It’s just…last night was…”
I brace myself for what’s coming. She’s going to say it was a mistake.
“It was incredible. And confusing.”
Fireworks explode inside my chest. I file the incredible away, and ask, “Confusing… How?”
Pink spreads over her cheeks. “I wish you’d let me touch you. I wanted to touch you.” She glances away.
Fuck.
“Peaches,” I say brokenly. I put my cup down, walk over to her, and lift her chin up with my knuckle, forcing her to look at me. She sucks in a tiny breath, her eyes wide and a little shy.
She’s not lying.
And it’s not just lust shining in her eyes.
Something tender flashes within them, and it makes my breath catch. We’re standing still, but my heart feels like it’s soaring.
It’s not just me. She feels something too.
She moves first, bringing her hand to my chest.
I back her against the counter, my arms caging her in on both sides. She shoots a look over my shoulder but doesn’t tell me to stop.
Her fingertips trace a light path over my abdomen and then drift lower.
I’m already hard. It doesn’t take much with her.
She cups my erection.
I swallow down a groan.
Why the fuck is she leaving for two whole days?
And how much trouble would I be in if I crash every single one of Garzolo’s cars to keep her here?
“I wanted to make you come,” she whispers. “I’ve never made a man come before.”
I press my lips just below her ear. “Trust me, you did.”
She shivers when she realizes what I mean. “When?”
“Last night after I got back to my room,” I growl, “and every fucking night since I arrived here. Do you know what it’s like watching your tight little ass prance around me? Or smelling your scent in the air whenever I leave my room?” I roll my hips against her. “You drive me fucking crazy.”
She gasps and slips her hand inside my jeans.
The moment her palm wraps around my cock, I nearly keel over. When she pumps it up and down, I feel like I’ve made it into heaven.
We’re in the kitchen, where anyone can walk in on us, and I’m losing my mind over a hand job.
A door closes loudly in the distance, and we break apart.
Fucking fuck.
This is torture.
She’s breathing hard as she watches me adjust myself, her eyes glazed over and hungry. Just knowing that I’d find a whole lot of wet if I reached inside her panties right now makes my pre-cum leak out.
She backs away slowly, her gaze locked with mine. “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I don’t want to stop.”
I must be losing my mind, because although I’ve just spent all morning convincing myself what a bad idea this is, I still say, “Me neither.”
“Gemma!” her mother calls out from a few rooms down. “We’re leaving!”
“I have to go,” she says. As she moves past me, our fingers twine together for a split second, and then she’s gone.
CHAPTER 21
RAS
I keep myself busy over the two days by spending some time hanging around Garzolo’s crew. They don’t say anything to signal they’re aware of the trouble brewing with the Feds, but that’s not surprising, since they must know better than to talk about anything important around me.
My next meeting with Orrin is far more productive. He managed to confirm what Gemma told me about Garzolo at his poker game. The Feds are preparing a RICO indictment for Garzolo and a few other high-up members of his clan. They’re all looking at doing decades or life.
I wonder if his deal with Messero covers getting the rest of the guys out.
Orrin also tells me he’s heard rumors about Messero’s connection to the DA before, but I ask him to see if he can get anything more concrete so that I can convince Dem I need to stay here a bit longer.
I’m practically counting down the hours until Gemma returns.
It’s pathetic.
I’m a made man.
An underboss in the most powerful clan in the Camorra.
And this girl—one engaged to another man nonetheless—has me wrapped around her finger.
Friday afternoon, I’m eating a late lunch in the dining room when I hear her voice.
I stay in my seat, not wanting to seem too eager. But when she comes in and her eyes light up at seeing me, I realize I’m thoroughly fucked.
My heart beats louder inside my chest. My fingers clench as if they’re searching for something of hers to grab onto.
“Hi,” she breathes. “Were you bored here on your own?”
Bored.
Being bored would be a hell of a lot better than engaging in this dance with insanity.
You can’t have her. No matter what happens between the two of you in the days you have left here, you can’t fucking have her, you absolute damn idiot.
“I made do,” I squeeze out.
Her mother appears behind her. “Ras, how are you?” she asks in an uncharacteristically friendly tone. “You’re coming to the Messero party tonight, correct?”
She’s in a better mood than I’ve ever seen her. Their time in the Hamptons must have done her some good, or maybe that’s simply the effect of not being around her husband for a few days.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good. I don’t think Stefano and I will make it to the club, but the girls will go. Gemma needs to be there to support Rafaele. Are you able to accompany them?”
Support him? It’s a fucking birthday party for his aunt, not a funeral. I paste on a smile. “No problem.”
“Excellent.” Pietra turns to Gemma. “You should go shower and start getting ready. Rafaele will expect you to look perfect. Most of his family will be there.”
My vision darkens at the edges, and Gemma stiffens as if she can guess the direction of my thoughts.
“Okay,” she says, giving me her back. “I’ll go do that.”