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For such an unimpressive building, I am surprised it stretches this far back. When my pussycat librarian pushes the button to let us into the elevator, I don’t think; I grab her elbow and take her inside with us.
Not out of my sight.
Sure, I don’t want Jessica to call south side cops that I can’t buy off, but I also don’t want her more than two feet from me. I’ve never been this ready to burst from sheer lust over a fully clothed woman.
My chest is jumping in the same erratic way hers is now, my cock directing me to keep her close.
I’ve never listened to my dick. It’s Rule Number Three for the Moretti men. Sex, sure, but no girlfriends. No repeats unless it’s one of the regulars at the gentlemen’s club, who are traded in and out regularly, so we don’t get attached. Our girlfriend, wife and mistress is the family business—a fact our father did not hesitate to drill into our brains from the time we hit puberty.
Then there’s no harm in fucking her just once,my cock whines.That’s not breaking the rules.
But as my dick weeps inside my Tom Ford boxer briefs, I know he’s a lying fool. One dip won’t be enough for him.
And I’ll make it so good that once won’t be enough for her, either.
Jessica keeps her angelic voice level, though I can see her chest still jumping.
More than a handful, those tits.
“Here you are,” she says as the elevator doors open. She flicks on the light with an unpainted fingernail. “The basement of the South Side Library. Is it as exciting as you were hoping? Worth scaring a bunch of teenagers to see?”
Gio’s men don’t answer as they fan out, searching the boxes that are littered throughout the dimly lit concrete room.
I don’t move a goddamn muscle because my pussycat is too nervous to go far. She glues her back to the wall beside the elevator, closing her eyes to shut out the scene.
I stand beside her, well aware that I am tenting my pants like a fool.
She turns her chin to frown up at me. “I’m an avid reader, I hope you know. I know about a dozen ways to dismember a bad guy.”
I smirk at her moxie. “I consider myself warned.”
“And if you’re thinking I…”
“We’re not here to hurt you,” I say to her in my quietest voice. My arm brushes against hers, shooting more blood straight to my cock.
“Men who carry guns and break into public buildings afterhours generally don’t need to say that,” she counters without an ounce of petulance, her nose raised. Again, she wears this control about her that makes her cadence seem like she could be talking about baking a pie.
I’ll bet she’s a fantastic librarian, with that sweet voice and quiet control of her demeanor. I might have frequented a place like this if she’d been around to gawk at.
I can feel the warmth of her skin heating my arm, even through my suit.
I glance at her profile as I offer my own counterpoint. “Well, people who are stolen from and their money stashed somewhere inconvenient carry whatever they need to get what’s theirs.” I motion to the boxes, and before I know it, I’m blathering my business like an idiot. “The Torros stole my money and hid it down here somewhere, thinking I wouldn’t cross territory lines to get it.”
“Torros?” Jessica asks, looking up at me with a slight crinkle across the bridge of her nose.
Goddamn, she’s got freckles. I’ve never cared about freckles before, but now I can’t think of a quality I’d want more on a woman than a smattering across her nose and cheeks. I can’t stop staring.
I study her inquisitive eyes that hold a perfect balance of innocence and control. Her cheeks flush a delightful pink, and I realize that she is studying my features just as intensely as I am staring at hers.
I clear my throat. “The Torros. You know, the family who runs south side of the city.”
She shrugs, tearing her face from view. “Oh. I don’t know anything about that. I only moved to Fairview last month.”
I snort, and immediately kick myself for forgetting how to be smooth around women who aren’t being paid to have sex with me. “Why would someone like you move here? The Torros don’t put any effort into keeping their side of the city livable.” She’d better not live near here. This neighborhood is a hole.
She frowns up at me, again knocking the air from my lungs. “Believe it or not, there aren’t that many head librarian jobs available. I came to the only place that was hiring. It’s not that bad here. A little rough around the edges, but the kids are great.”
I snap my mouth shut, pretty sure I just somehow insulted her. I’m not wrong, though. The south side is a dump. That’s what happens when the main moneymaker is cocaine.
