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“Goddamn it. I’m taking you for ice cream after this.” I almost mention the pistachio speech. “I want to see you lick a cone, even if it kills me.”
“That’s what I want,” she giggles, inhaling another empanada. “A mafia bounty on my head.”
I’m not even sure I taste my food, I’m too enraptured watching Jillian eat. It’s the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
The people around us clap, and I’m drawn back to the music I heard earlier outside this place. A dark-haired woman in her fifties wearing a floral wrap dress sways in front of the microphone. In a velvet voice, she sings the opening salvo to… At Last…
Nothing can write my story with Jillian better.
I wipe my hands on a napkin and stand. “Let’s dance.”
She catches something that adorably falls out of her mouth. “Dance?”
“It’s a one syllable word.”
After a sip of wine, she says, “I only know the Macarena.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Not liking to wait, I go to her chair and practically lift her out.
“Ack,” she bellows. “I’m too heavy, put me down.”
“I can lift you with one arm. Shush.” I steer her toward the dance floor with my hand on her arse.
“Shush?”
“I’m mafia. Mob, really, if we’re getting technical.” I pull her close. “I’m in charge, I lead. Just relax.”
The feel of her against me lights up every cell in my body. She fits so sublimely in my arms, and molds into me as I move to the only dance steps I know. Somewhere between a cotillion and tango.
I twirl her and snap her back into my chest, our lips hovering. When she licks them and they part, I take that as an invitation. I gently kiss her, trying out a new side of me. Calm and seductive. Romantic.
My softness brings out a fury in Jillian’s kisses and she devours me.
I roam my hands down her back until her luscious arse fills both my palms. There are enough people around us, hiding my inappropriate touching.
“Feel that?” I grind my hard length into her stomach. “I can lift you and fuck you right now.”
“I bet.” She sounds breathless.
“Let’s get the check and go back to my place.”
She stiffens and looks around.
Christ, it hits me. She’s playing the goddamn game.
I take her face into my hands and peer into her eyes. Every instinct to read a person’s mind fires up. Is this all an act? Was that kiss even real?
More frighteningly, do I care?
Fuck, I care. This woman consumes my every damn thought.
“Jillian, what’s the problem? I want to fuck you and you want to fuck me, right? Me?” The stress in my voice pulls her eyes in more.
“Um.” She bites her lower lip.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You want this, I know you do.”
Yeah, she wants to bang someone for the Sinners app guy to see.
