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“And I might be ready to claw my skin off because I can still feel that man’s blood on me.” Her voice cracks, and she lowers her head until her chin touches her chest. “Please. Torment me all you want, but let me do this first. I can’t stand it.”
Yes, that’s right. Give me your weakness. I want to sip it like a fine wine and let it roll on my tongue. The big, brave detective who thought she could single-handedly take me down is reduced to a trembling little girl standing in my shadow.
“Take off your clothes,” I murmur while planting my feet and folding my arms.
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. “Wh-what?”
“Strip down. Now. Or else no shower.”
“You’re joking.”
“That’s one thing I rarely do,” I warn. “And considering the trick you pulled with that little Glock earlier, I’m not about to trust you didn’t conceal another weapon somewhere on you.” Is that true? Not really. I doubt there’s anything else she could have hidden, but then I had no idea there was a gun under her mattress, either.
“I’m not taking my clothes off for you.” Defiance tightens her jaw, and yes, I fucking love that, the flash of spirit, and I know there’s much more in her. Enough that she thought it was a good idea to pull a gun on me.
Somebody made her this way—all thorns and prickles, wearing an invisible suit of armor that’s much too big and heavy for her tiny body to handle. Somebody made her feel as if she was all alone in the big, bad world.
It’s not helping her now. “Then let’s go to the bedroom, where I’ll tie you to the bedframe for lack of trust. This is entirely your fault,” I calmly remind her.
All it takes is reaching for her to effectively blow away the last scraps of defiance. She won’t look at me as she takes the hem of her sweater in both hands and lifts it over her head. The fire has warmed the room nicely, but she trembles anyway, lowering her gaze while mine rakes over her luscious tits and the tiny, pink nipples tipping them.
“Keep going,” I grunt, devouring her with my hungry gaze. I might keep her naked for the hell of it—something to sweeten the shitshow I’ve brought upon myself. She sniffles and kicks off her sneakers, stumbling awkwardly but maintaining her balance before peeling the leggings away from her body and bending to remove her socks.
Then she stands straight, one hand covering her mound. “Don’t you dare,” I warn. “As far as I’m concerned, Little Detective, I own you. You do not hide what’s mine.”
“Just…” She hangs her head again, hair falling in a curtain in front of her face. “Don’t hurt me.” The soft submission in her voice awakens my dick, and my breath catches when she reveals a neatly shaved mound and the hint of a pink nub peeking from between her lips.
“Turn.” I can barely speak, with lust strangling me the way it is. My growing dick springs to life all at once as she slowly turns, granting me a view of her peach of an ass. How I’d love to take a bite.
“Satisfied?” she whispers once we’re face-to-face again. Her gaze brushes over my erection and darts away before her face flushes.
“I’m not sure. I might need to do a cavity search.” When she flinches, I snicker. “Or maybe not. I suppose I’m satisfied.” That’s a lie. I am nowhere near satisfied yet. But I step aside, anyway, noting how she turns sideways to get past me without making contact. I know there’s nothing in the room she could use. Nobody keeps supplies here except for nonperishables in the kitchen cabinets, so there aren’t any razor blades or even a nail file she might wield in a misguided moment.
By the time the water begins to run in the tub, my phone starts buzzing. My hackles rise immediately. Fucking Dante. Right on schedule. I slide the phone from my pocket, prepared to tell him to get fucked.
Only it isn’t him. It’s the extension in Guilia’s bedroom. My irritation blows away like petals torn free by the wind. If there’s one person who always knows how to set me straight, it’s my little sister. That’s the talent she was born with.
“Jules, I’m sort of busy,” I murmur as gently as I can, with a raging erection owning much of my attention. “Is everything all right?”
There’s a long, silent beat before I get a response. “No, son. Everything is not all right.”
Realization hits me in the gut like a kick from a horse, and like magic, my erection is history. “Papa. Nice touch, calling from Guilia’s room.”
“Something told me you might be more inclined to answer if you thought it was your sister calling. I’ll pretend I’m not insulted.”
Guilt makes the back of my neck prickle. “You know I’ve never screened my calls when it comes to you,” I quietly insist.
“There’s a lot of things you’ve never done before, Luca,” he points out in a deceptively smooth voice. “For instance, you’ve never left town at the drop of a hat without so much as a heads-up to anybody on the crew. You’ve never become a little more than a ghost around here. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to calm your mother down. Three of our men were murdered last night, and you chose now to run off? What are you thinking?”
I can hardly keep up with everything he’s thrown at me all at once. “I’m fine,” I assure him, eyeing the open bathroom door. The shower is still running, so there’s no way she can hear me. Still, I speak in a low voice, turning my back to the room.
“You’re fine? Pardon me if that doesn’t ease my mind, son. Especially when I know you ran off with a woman in tow.”
Dread wraps itself around my heart, a creeping vine tightening its grip. “What makes you think I have anybody with me?”
“Son. Let’s not waste time fucking around,” he blows out in frustration.
The full force of the implication is a slap in the face. “You’re spying on me?”
