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“By the time we were fourteen, we were inseparable, so we were placed with Mrs. Russo, a recent widow, a little Italian lady with an infectious smile and one hell of a backhand.”
His eyes light up when he speaks of her.
“We stayed with her formally until we turned eighteen, but on that day, we both changed our last names to Russo. She didn’t have a family of her own. Her husband died young. She loved us boys so fiercely, like her own. We didn’t want to leave her at eighteen, so we stayed. Plus, she made mean Italian food, so who could possibly ever want to leave?” He smiles.
I rest my hand over his. “That’s so lovely. I’m glad you found her. She sounds like an incredible lady.” I nod, giving him a small but genuine smile.
There is so much more to this man underneath his hard exterior.
“Yeah, yeah she is,” he mumbles. Keeping his eyes on the road, stroking his thumb over my hand.
A few moments pass in silence. “So, Londoner?” he asks, now sporting a cockney accent and a smirk.
“I do not sound like that!” Hitting his bicep with the back of my hand, a giggle escapes.
“How long have you been an honorary New Yorker?”
I guess this journey’s turning into a get-to-know-your -history chat. I’m not entirely convinced this is one night stand pre chat but fuck it.
I take in a deep breath, readying myself to answer. For some reason, I feel comfortable opening up to him.
“I moved here the second I turned eighteen. I was awarded a Scholarship to study sociology at Columbia University. I lived in the rough ends of East London. My Dad walked out on us when I was ten. Not heard from him since.”
“Fucker,” Keller mumbles under his breath.
That makes me chuckle.
“Then my mom turned to vodka as her companion. Hence why I got on the first plane out of there. I’d grown up taking care of myself pretty much my whole life. Figured moving countries wouldn’t be that hard.” I shrug. Deep down it hurts.
I might be rambling, but shit, did it feel good to let it out to someone who genuinely asked about me rather than someone being paid to care.
“So now I work as a paralegal at Chambers & Sons, specializing in family law. But the real dream deep down is to go into social care. I want to help kids from disadvantaged backgrounds achieve. You know? I was lucky to get my scholarship and start a new life, but not every kid has that. Those are the kids I want to help.”
Shit, of course, he fucking knows.
Pursing his lips together, he slowly nods.
Crap.
Keller takes a sharp left and my body crashes into the passenger door.
“Shit, Keller! What the fuck are you doing?” I exclaim.
My body hurtles forward and smashes back into the seat as the car comes to an abrupt stop.
I slowly turn towards Keller. Shit! Were we in a crash? The fucker presses the off button of the car, not even looking at me.
Is he fucking psychotic?
Before I even get a chance to ask him if he’s a psychopath, he turns his head to look at me, lust burning from his gaze. Heat rushes through my body channeling straight between my legs. I squeeze them tightly together, so tight it’s creating more friction. He’s staring at me like I’m worthy, like I’m the sexiest woman on the planet. At the same time, like he wants to fucking devour me.
I drag my eyes from him so I can scan my surroundings. From what I can make out from the dimly lit street, we're definitely in a residential neighborhood, near 5th avenue. A quiet one at that.
Not one light is on in the apartments surrounding us on either side of the sidewalk. Not one car passes us by. I mean, it’s kind of an ideal place to murder someone and not be seen. But by the heat radiating off Keller, I think the last thing he wants to do is murder me, not unless you count death by orgasms.
I stare out the passenger window. I swear his gaze is burning holes into the back of my head. I’m scared to turn back around. The sound of each deep inhale he does draws me back to him.
This pull we have between us; with him so close to me, I can’t focus on anything.Am I even breathing?I turn back to him and watch the cords in his neck and the veins popping as the tension rises in the small space. I’m desperately fighting the urge to bite him. The thought alone makes my pussy burn.Jesus, how am I so wet just thinking about him?
