“Say that again, Grasso, and I will rub you off the wrong way,” Carmen snaps, but she reaches for the sunscreen anyway.
The week of distance helped. It put things into perspective, like how much I really enjoy having my balls attached to my body. Remembering how much fucking this up with Carmen would screw over the war effort when Rocco’s reports keep getting bleaker.
It also had the unintended side effect of a tentative truce settling between us. Neither of us wants to deal with the consequences of overstepping again.
But neither of us is quite ready to leave the other alone entirely.
Hence why we’re both lounging by the pool on one of my rare afternoons off from meeting with the Grasso di Ferro or avoiding Rina’s invitations to dinner.
I'm not entirely sure why we’re both flirting so outrageously that I have to keep checking my mother isn’t in earshot. But it’s Carmen’s fault.
I take up the sunscreen and slowly begin to rub it into her shoulders. Carmen’s tan skin is smooth to the touch, brighter now with a week’s near-constant sunlight.
Her hair is piled up on the top of her head so that she can read without it falling into her eyes. I’d gifted her a more traditional Italian phrase book earlier this week.
If I spend a little too long massaging her shoulders, it’s only because she started it. I almost dropped my coffee when she’d waltzed into the sun room in her little bathing suit and declared we would be swimming.
“Mmmm…” she groans sinfully under the pressure of my fingers.
“Does that feel good, princess?”
“Fuck me.”
I pull away with a smirk. “I’d love to.”
“Careful, Dante. You’ll need another week to cool off if you keep riling yourself up like this.”
It’s a game of chicken that’s been going on for days now. And I’ve never been one to enjoy losing.
I drop my hands to her waist and hoist her bodily up into the air, earning me a shriek of indignation. Her body flails helplessly against mine as I maneuver us toward the edge of the pool.
“I think there are better ways to cool off, don’t you?”
“Dante! No. Wait, wait, wait. Don’t you DARE!”
But I’ve already taken that final step, damning us both to the fall.
Our bodies break through the cool water in synchronization, and for a moment, Carmen’s cries are wonderfully muted below the surface. But then a pair of arms wrap around my neck and pull me back up.
“I’m going to murder you.”
“You said that before, but I’m still waiting for you to follow through.”
Carmen wriggles through the water until she manages to wrap herself around my back. “Maybe I was just waiting for an opening.”
“I’ve given you plenty of?—”
But my words are cut off by her dunking me ferociously back under the water. Her hands pushing down hard on my head as I try to snatch her off me. We wrestle for a moment, half gasping for air, half laughing at the other’s attempts to get the upper hand.
Several minutes later finds us panting and wrapped up in each other—locked in a mutually destructive embrace.
“Youson of a bitch,”she hisses, though the smile on her face softens the blow of her words. Water caresses her cheeks and accumulates in her long lashes. It’s all completely distracting.
My answering grin is interrupted by a curt voice.
“Signore Grasso.”
I look up to find Pierre standing at the edge of the pool, his face a mask of professional indifference.
