AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Don’t I?”
There were no signs of fear in his expression, the bastard. He stared at me with a challenging glint in his eye, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
I shoved harder into his windpipe. “Why would I not kill you? Enlighten me, principe.”
“You like watching me. You like thinking about what we did in Málaga.”
My lungs constricted. It felt like the air was in short supply, even though we were outside with nothing around but grass and dirt and the ocean breeze. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, the rush of blood thrumming in my veins.
I attempted a sneer. “Málaga doesn’t matter. Nothing about you matters to me.”
“So why am I still alive?”
“Maybe I am taking my time. You can’t escape. What’s the rush?”
His stare was unwavering. “You won’t murder me.”
“I will. But don’t worry. You won’t see it coming. And it will be painless.”
A hand fell onto my waist.
I sucked in a sharp breath. Giulio was touching me. His rough grip rested on my hip bone like it had the right to be there. Tiny shocks raced over my skin and my groin tightened with need. I could feel the heat from his body, even under the heavy clothing. It was both not enough and too much.
I wanted to touch him so badly, I shook with it. But I didn’t trust myself.
I released him as if he were a live grenade.
He didn’t move, his body pressed against the rock. “If you were going to kill me, you would have already done it.”
“Delaying the inevitable.”
Pushing off the stone, he started toward me. There was no fear, no hesitation. Confidence radiated off every part of him, his muscles loose and relaxed. The exact opposite of me at the moment.
“Cazzata. If my life has taught me anything,” he said, “there is no such thing as inevitable.”
I said nothing. He was wrong. Me tracking him down was inevitable. His death was inevitable.
He moved around me and sprinted up the trail, his shoes crunching on the frozen ground. I followed him. We started out with a light jog to warm up as we headed toward the hills. The air was cold, the path hard. I focused on my feet, my breath. The surroundings. Anything but the man in front of me.
Ten minutes passed before he spoke. “So are you a top or a bottom? You know, with men.”
I knew what he was trying to do. I frowned at his broad back. “Why is it always sex with you?”
“Just making conversation, assassino. I’m curious about the man who wants to kill me.”
Was he trying to soften me up in the hopes that I wouldn’t carry out the hit? Make us relate on a human level? It was a tactic captives used with their captors. And it wouldn’t work. “You’re wasting your time.”
“Does that mean you won’t answer?”
“No, it means I know what you are doing. Also, I don’t like labels.”
“Well, I hate to tell you, but the B in LGBTQIA+ means bi. You are a label.”
I supposed. But I didn’t try to analyze my sexuality or think about what it meant. I slept with whomever I wanted to at the moment, whoever I was attracted to. And I happened to find both women and men attractive. I hadn’t understood it for a long time, especially when I was younger. In the military, a fellow soldier tried to convince me I was gay and covered it up by occasionally sleeping with women. But pussy got my dick hard just as much as cock.
Giulio wasn’t letting it drop. “Maybe you’re a switch.”
“Are these things gay men really discuss?”
