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Santo shakes his head, but he’s already flicking his shirt buttons open, giving me a glimpse of that bare chest, dusted with hair.
Those muscles. Thoseabs.Oh, I remember this alright, in high definition, and I’m almost sad when he shrugs on the reindeer sweater.
“Sit.” I point at the center of the swing bench. The mob boss gusts out a long breath but complies, and when I settle into his lap, strong arms wind around and hold me tight.
Oh, yeah. I tilt my head back against his shoulder and close my eyes; feel my heart rate settle and his body harden beneath my ass.
This is it. Santo kisses my neck, and I let out a sigh. A bird chirps high above, and I wriggle against his length, my blood heating.
Paradise.
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