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I glared. “He couldn’t do anything even if I did.”
“That’s not the point he was trying to make,” Massimo said. “You have another hour, then I’m taking you home. Don’t get in trouble.” He stalked after his friends.
Carlotta shrugged. Someone turned up the music louder.
“Let’s dance, okay?” I asked.
Carlotta hesitated, but when I got up and held out my hand, she took it and let me lead her to the center of the room, where dozens of soles from dancing feet had smeared Nevio’s blood everywhere. It said a lot about the party guests that hardly anybody seemed to care.
Carlotta and I danced, and I managed to forget about Nevio for long stretches of time. But about five minutes before our Massimo-imposed curfew, Nevio dragged himself up the staircase. He was alone. No girls clung to him.
I froze.
“It’s not a good idea,” Carlotta warned.
“Let me talk to him. I’m really worried about him. He should go home with us.”
Massimo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.
“Distract him, okay? I need to use my chance to talk to Nevio when his guard is down.”
Carlotta nodded, but it was obvious she didn’t like the idea. “Just make sure you don’t get hurt in the process. Not everyone can be saved.”
I gave her a reassuring smile, and she moved toward Massimo, who looked suspicious.
I used my chance and followed Nevio upstairs. Unfortunately, all the doors were closed when I got up there, so I had to check one room after the other. I found him in the third bedroom I checked. He was stretched out across the bed, his legs dangling off the side, and he was simply staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all the questions. His expression seemed lost, forlorn, more vulnerable than I’d ever seen it. His leather jacket was on the floor, leaving his upper body bare.
His face became hard as if a switch had been turned. He didn’t stop staring at the ceiling as he gritted out, “Leave. If you stay, you better fuck or suck me.”
My lips parted in utter shock. I hadn’t drunk enough for hallucinations, but I couldn’t believe Nevio had really spoken to me like this. “I’m here to talk to you.”
He chuckled, and the sound tore at my belly. It was raw but also dark and cruel.
My pulse sped, my mind telling me to leave, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t leave him here like this. The bottle of tequila that had been full an hour ago lay beside him on the bed, empty. I hoped he’d spilled most of it. I swallowed and closed the door.
With every step I took closer to the bed, my pulse raced faster. I stopped right beside his head and looked down at his stretched-out form. Even stinking-drunk Nevio was magnificent, and I wished I hadn’t noticed. His outstretched arms were muscled from Parcour and cage fights. Scars littered his strong body. My eyes lingered on the tattoo of the Camorra on his forearm. The Camorra required a lot from their soldiers, and even more from its future Capo. His belt was unbuckled, the button of his jeans open.
Nevio’s head swiveled around, his eyes now at eye level with my thighs. His fingers gripped the back of my thigh and tugged me closer until my knees bumped against the bed. “I wasn’t joking,” he snarled.
I wasn’t sure why, but I reached out and lightly ran my fingers through his black hair, wanting a connection. He hoisted me off my feet, and suddenly, I straddled his naked belly.
I let out a startled cry, then swallowed when I realized how little fabric was between my most private area and Nevio’s skin. I flushed with heat, and my core developed a pulse of its own. I’d had countless dreams about Nevio and me in a bed together, but this wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined it.
Nevio’s gaze hit me. It was unfocused and never reached my eyes, always wandering around as if he couldn’t focus on one spot. Then his gaze dipped to my breasts, and his fingers dug into my hips as he pushed me farther back until something hard pressed against me through my panties. I looked down, stunned by the bulge in his pants. I touched his six-pack, my fingers loving the feel of the hard ridges. I bit my lip as the heat between my legs intensified. I rocked my hips and swallowed a moan from the sensation.
“Stop dry-humping me.”
I blushed, my hands still against his skin. Nevio shoved up and gripped my neck, his tongue trailing over my pulse point up to my ear. My body went into overdrive from sensation, completely overwhelmed.
Nevio’s breath hit my ear. “Last warning, pretty girl. You stay here, I’ll fuck you, and it won’t be pretty.”
I ran my hand over his back, my mind screaming at me to pull back and leave. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to notice me,” I whispered against his collarbone and pressed a kiss to it.
“I noticed you right when you walked in. Now, stop talking, girl,” he said, a hint of a slur breaking through the words.
I closed my eyes against his skin, realizing he didn’t know who I was. He was too drunk, too stoned. I was just a random skirt he was chasing—a quick pussy fix, as he always called it.
He lifted me, and I knelt above him as he shoved down his pants. I didn’t look down at his erection. I only looked at his face, but it was closed off and distant as if he was only half there.
