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“The Mafia don’t take kindly to strange men visiting one of their women,” he warns.
I scoff, “They’re not going to find out.”
“And if they do?” He scowls.
I thrust out my chest, “I’m going, and that’s that.”
“Obstinate arsewipe.” He glowers back. “If I can’t stop you—” He shakes his head. “If you’re not back in an hour—”
“Two—”
He throws up his hands. “What-fucking-ever. Two hours. If you’re not back within two hours, I’m coming after you.”
* * *
"What are you doing here?" She gapes up at me from her bed.
I waited until past midnight, then climbed up the tree to her room. It's a warm summer night, and the glass pane as well as the shutters on the window have been left open—thank fuck—so I swung inside the room, then padded over to stand over her sleeping form. I admit, I stared at her sleeping, like the creep I’m turning out to be. What else would you call a grown man who snuck into a teenager’s bedroom? Then, pissed off with myself, I shook her awake.
Now, she springs up, and the thin sheet she covered herself with falls about her waist. I take in the camisole she’s wearing and notice the outline of her tits is visible. She follows my line of sight and pulls the sheet up under her chin again. "You shouldn’t be here," she whispers and tips up her chin.
"No kidding," I whisper back. I cross my arms across my chest. "I need answers."
"And if I don’t want to give them?"
I scowl. "You owe me."
"Doesn’t explain why you’re breaking into my room at this time of the night."
"You still haven’t explained what you were doing out at 2 a.m. last night," I snap.
She sets her jaw. "You’re really not going to leave until I tell you." It’s a statement not a question, so I don’t answer. She continues to look at me for a few more seconds, then heaves a sigh. She pushes off her cover and swings her legs over the side of the bed, before she straightens. She’s wearing the camisole with a pair of sleep shorts and when she lifts her hand to run her fingers through her blonde locks, a strip of skin is bared at her midriff. My cock instantly thickens—fuck. This girl is going to kill me with how my body reacts to her.
"Well, what is it? Why were you out?" I demand.
She lowers her arm and shoots me a dirty look. "I had a fight with my mother, if you must know. She shut me in my room, without food for twenty-four hours. I got pissed off, and first chance I got, decided I was going to run away."
I scoff, "You were running away from home in your pajamas?"
"I didn’t think it through, okay?"
"Clearly you’re not accustomed to using your brain."
"No reason to be impolite," She flattens her lips.
"If I hadn’t turned up—"
"I know," she groans and throws up her hand. "Spare me the routine. It’s not like you care or anything. You couldn’t wait to throw me out of your place yesterday."
"You’re a child."
"I’m not."
"You’re nothing but a spoiled teenager who’s trying to get back at her parents for trying to discipline her."
She sets her jaw. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."
"Oh?"
