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“What’s not to miss? You have everything you need here. I’m certain your parents are happy you returned. What are your plans?”
“Perhaps I can generate that menu you’re considering.”
My father smirks. “Perhaps.”
I want to vomit. I know this man. I know what the fuck he’s thinking. Problem is, I’m thinking the exact same thing. I want to take Milana, bend her over this damn table, and fuck her sweet pussy until she cries out my name.
The tomboy I grew up with, the one person who always understood me, is all woman. And I’ll be damned if I don’t want to explore every part of that.
5
Milana
The rest of dinner goes about as expected. The men start chatting about the point spread for the next basketball game while my mother and I eat in silence. I could’ve put my two cents in again?tell them money line betting shouldn’t be an option for our high rollers, but I keep my mouth shut. I said enough bringing up the casino menu. How in the world are you going to open one of the largest underground casinos and not provide food? It’s ridiculous and a poor decision on Mr. Moretti’s part.
“Please excuse me,” I say quietly, easing my chair back from the table.
I take my empty dessert plate with me, using it as an excuse, although my father won’t question me. He’s too ensconced in his conversation to pay me any attention.
Slipping to the kitchen, I compliment the chef on a job well done while loading another slice of cake on my plate. What can I say? I’m a sucker for sweets.
I’m halfway through when the door opens, and Salvatore walks in. He nods at the chef, slowly stepping toward me. My heart skips a beat when we’re left alone in the kitchen.
“I thought I might find you here.”
“You know I always want seconds when it comes to dessert.”
Salvatore smiles. “That part of you could’ve changed like everything else.”
His dark eyes roam over my body, lingering a few seconds too long on my boobs. This should be weird. My reaction to my childhood friend. His reaction to me. But it isn’t.
“Nope, still the same old me. Can I say the same about you?”
His jaw clenches. “Am I the same cowardly little boy you once knew? That answer would be no.”
“Cowardly? I would’ve gone with kind and…I don’t know…fun.”
He takes the plate from my hands, picking up the fork. He captures a piece of the coconut cake and raises it to my mouth. Without hesitation, I allow him to feed me, licking the frosting from my lips.
“I can be fun, Milana.”
I roll my eyes. “Here we go again with this Milana bullshit.”
He puts the plate on the counter behind me, his body inches from mine. His breath fans my face as he reaches up, trailing his fingertip over my lips. I part them, aching to suck his finger inside and swirl my tongue around it.Deliziosa.
“Millie.”
Pulling away, he glances at his finger, icing on the tip, then tucks it into his mouth, licking it clean. My lips part with desire, lust, need. That simple gesture has my nipples straining against the fabric of my dress, thighs squeezing together.
“See? I can be fun.”
Is this fun or torture? I can’t tell. My body practically hums, aching for his touch, while my mind reminds me this man used to be my best friend. We were once inseparable. Before I can make a decision, the butler clears his throat, gaining our attention.
“Your father has inquired about your whereabouts, Mr. Moretti. Your car is being brought around.”
“Thank you,” Salvatore replies, then looks back at me. “I’ll see you soon, Milana.”
Maledetto lui.Damn him.
