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And I don’t like it. Or I do a little bit. I don’t know, I’m still figuring myself out, and I’m sleep-deprived, stressed to the max, and basically tumbling headlong into that bad decision hole I’ve dug for myself.
I’m a nobody-nothing girl from a poor family with no college education. I’ve been working a string of crappy jobs, from waitressing at dirty truck stop diners to mucking out stalls on a horse farm. If it can be done, I’ve done it, all because Grandpop needs a check, and he can’t work anymore.
Lanzo was right about me. He thinks I would’ve done anything for that hundred grand, and yep, there are very few lines I won’t cross for that kind of cash. But he’s wrong about my motives. I’m not doing it for myself. If it were up to me, I would’ve never gotten involved with this Burian guy from the beginning. I’d be off somewhere working a normal job, maybe in an office, something safe and boring where I could shoot the breeze with coworkers over coffee about weekend plans or whatever inane stuff normal people talk about.
Instead, I’m here because I love Grandpop more than anything in the world.
But that love doesn’t stop me from doing dumb stuff.
I open the bedroom door, peering out. It’s dark in the sitting area. A TV’s on, flashing light across the carpet. Lanzo’s on the couch with a laptop open on his chest, his face glowing white from whatever’s on the screen, his eyes staring and alert.
And he’s not wearing a shirt.
I gawk at his arms, at the muscles, and at the black tattoos swirling and writhing along his skin. I lick my lips, unable to help myself, as my jaw drops open.
He’sgorgeous. A freaking specimen.
The sort of man that shouldn’t exist anywhere but on Instagram or in movies.
Except he’s right there, lying on the couch.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
I flinch, nearly slamming my fingers in the door. Lanzo glances over at me, not smiling. Only looking, curious.
I open the door slightly. I’m in my t-shirt and jeans, my zip-up hoodie tossed on the floor next to the bed. I don’t say anything as I step into the room, staring at him, my head working through all the answers I’ve been dreaming up since all this started.
But the moment he sits up, putting the laptop aside to reveal his muscular chest, all the questions slip from my mind.
“It’s hard to calm down with you out here,” I say like I’m drifting above my own body, a million miles into the sky.
Was that a lame pickup line?
“Would it be better if I were in there with you?”
Oh my god. That definitely was.
I nearly choke. My eyes drift up to his lips. I’m humming now, not with questions, but with something else.
Desire. Need. A dark, achingwant.
The biggest mistake of all.
I turn my back on him. I feel his eyes on me, searching. “Come on then.”
He follows me back into the bedroom.
Chapter6
Renata
I’ve lost my mind. That’s the only explanation. I finally pushed myself, found my limits, and I’m a smoldering, wrecked crater of my former self.
Except that’s not how it feels as he approaches me.
I stand at the foot of the bed. Lanzo towers like a perfect statue carved from marble, still shirtless, muscles practically pulsing in the waning darkness of the hotel room. My nipples are stiff, poking against the fabric of my shirt, and he puts a hand on my lower back, pulling me against him.
He’s so warm. Hot, even, burning up. He doesn’t talk, not yet. The tension between us shimmers like an oil slick. I lick my lips again, impulsively staring at his chest and all the tattoos. Words in what looks like Russian. A bear, an eagle, a snake.
