by Bethany-Kris
Cross cocked a brow. “And put my ass on the line every time I make a run, Tom.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you.” Tom shoved his hands in his pockets, finally feeling warm enough to maybe open the bay doors and finish packing in the last few cases of guns. “Besides, I’m starting to realize I needed something like this.”
Cross’s attention was already back down on the map. “What’s that?”
“Just … being around people I actually like, and don’t want to kill.”
A laugh echoed from his friend. “Yeah, that makes all the difference when you’re working, doesn’t it?”
“Makes it less of a chore.”
And all his crew felt like was one big, useless fucking chore added to his daily life.
Tom didn’t admit it out loud, though.
“Maybe you’re in need of another break, man,” Cross said, never looking up from his work.
“Hey, if I don’t have the time to head out on a run with you, then I don’t have time to take a break to do something else.”
Cross shrugged. “Make time.”
Easier said than done.
So was his life.
“Tommaso. I heard you were in this part of the city.”
Tom spun around at the sound of his father’s voice. Across the warehouse, Tommas headed in Tom’s direction. At his father’s sides, the man’s right and left hands flanked him. Damian Rossi, the underboss for the Outfit, and Theo, the front boss and the man who controlled the gunrunning portion of the business.
He shot Theo a look, knowing that was likely how his father found out he was here. After all, Theo had been at the warehouse earlier when Tom first arrived, but left shortly after saying he had business to handle.
Right.
Business.
“Had to call him, huh?” Tom asked Theo.
“Be nice,” his uncle, Damian, said.
Technically, Damian was a cousin, but Tom had grown up knowing the man as an uncle. Same with Theo, really. All of them—and even Adriano—were terribly close friends. It made it very difficult for Tom to do anything without one of them telling the other, and then the information almost always made it back to his father somehow.
“How’s this run looking, Cross?” Tommas asked.
As usual, Cross was focused on his work. He answered, of course, but didn’t look away from the maps. “It’s looking fine, Tommas. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good, good.” Tommas’s gaze turned on Tom. “I thought you had work to do on your side of the city today?”
“Someone needed an extra pair of hands.”
Damian strolled past Tom, and clapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t say anything, though.
“As long as the extra pair of hands is all he needed,” Tommas said.
“I could use a partner on the run,” Cross said.
“You didn’t tell me that,” Theo replied. “You rarely use partners now.”
Cross looked up from his work, and his gaze darted between Tom and the other men. “It’s good for Tom to keep up on his skills, that’s all. Wouldn’t want him getting rusty when he might need to be your backup someday, right?”
“Tommaso doesn’t run our guns,” his father said. “You do, Cross. Concern yourself with that at the moment.”
“I am, but I’m just saying—”
“Either way,” Tommas cut in, making sure his voice was heard, “Tommaso will not be the one going on the run. I’m the only one who gets to make the choice.”
Tom shot his father a look. “I wasn’t going on the run to begin with.”
“Had to make sure.”
“Of course you did,” Tom muttered, “because apparently my word means fuck all.”
Frustration and irritation ran rampant through Tom, but he shoved it back down. He knew why his father was doing this, but that didn’t mean he particularly fucking liked it. He didn’t need a reminder about who was in charge.
Tommas frowned. “I didn’t say your word—”
“You don’t have to.”
Tom shook his head, knowing this was the one thing he and his father were never going to see eye to eye on. Every single thing else between them was as good as gold, and smooth fucking sailing, but not this. Tommas couldn’t just take that his request to his son would be heeded. No, he had to do shit like this, too.
It drove him nuts, and made him defensive. Two things he hated the most.
“I’m heading out,” Tom said, done with the whole show.
“Tommaso, wait a damn second.”
Tom headed past his father with a wave. “Nah, I get it, Dad. You made your point. Later, Cross. Good luck on the run.”
Cross didn’t answer him.
Nobody followed behind.
Thank God for small miracles.
“It’s not a bob anymore.”
Camilla’s dark eyes lit up, dancing with amusement on the screen. “No, it’s grown out a bit.”
To make a point, she flipped her hands through her shoulder-length brown—now—locks. Seemed she had changed the color again, too. Tom didn’t know how to keep up with this girl.
He kind of liked it, though.
“Did you see my brother?” Camilla asked.
“A couple of times last week, yeah.”
“Lucky him.”
Tom raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean, Cam?”
“Nothing. So hey, I like this Skyping thing.”
He did, too. Much more than chatting on the phone or the occasional text. She was crystal clear on the screen, giving him a nice view of the sports bra and tiny shorts she was lounging in. She sat cross-legged on her couch with the laptop set up on the other end. Tom had settled into his bed before making the Skype call.
“It was a good idea,” Tom said. “At least I actually get to look at you like this, and not sit here and wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
Tom grinned. “The usual—what you’re wearing, and all that shit.”
Camilla laughed. “My eyes are up here, Tom.”
His gaze drifted on the screen to look up at her face. He found her smirking, and she’d arched a brow high in response to his leering.
“What?” he asked. “You can’t get on Skype half naked and expect me not to look, Cam. That’s unfair.”
“It’s not like I’m indecent or anything.”
“Nice try, girl. You could make a fucking paper bag look indecent, and you know it.”
Her grin deepened, turning sexy and sinful in a blink. Just the sight alone was enough to make Tom’s dick hard beneath the sweats he’d thrown on after his shower.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“I got that piercing done. You know …” Her finger pointed downward, and she flashed her teeth. “Down there.”
Tom’s brow lifted high, and his throat tightened. “Did you now?”
“Wanna see?”
“You’re wicked, Camilla.”
She winked, and didn’t deny it. “It hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would. The girl who did it made me sign this stupid waiver saying I understood that I might lose all feeling in my—”
“You didn’t, right?”
“Sign the waiver, or lose feeling in my clitoral nerves?”
“Camilla.”
She gave him a little shrug, and then dipped her hand between her thighs. On the screen, he had the sexiest view of her fingers edging beneath cotton panties. The speakers caught the sound of her fingers stroking through her sex, and the wet sound it made. Her lips popped open in a perfect O shape as her breath caught in her throat.
“Oh, I still feel. Quite well, Tom. Better now.”
“Oh?”
Oh?
He sounded like an idiot.
He didn’t know what else to say at the moment.
Camilla nodded, and her teeth cut into her bottom lip while her fingers kept working between her thighs. “It’s something new, y
ou know? I’m always aware that it’s there now, even walking down the street. I could probably wear something tight enough, and it would make me come just by walking.”
His gaze was still firmly locked on her fingers moving under her panties. She’d made a damp little spot on the cotton from her juices. Her fingers moved from a thrusting motion, and then up higher, circling and tugging.
On that damn piercing.
He would really like to be the one playing with that fucking thing at the moment. Not watching her do it on a screen.
“Jesus Christ. You’re killing me here.”
“What do you want me to do, then?” she asked.
She was teasing him, and Tom was helpless to her game. He liked it a little too much to stop her from doing it.
“Well, moving those fucking panties aside so I can see what’s mine would be a great start, Camilla. Get on that, babe. If you’re going to tease me, at least make it worth my while.”
“Tom—”
“Let me see your cunt, Cam.”
She didn’t hesitate after that to use her other hand, and pull the cotton aside. The wet, pink sliver of her sex peeked out at him. All bare, waxed, and pretty. The tips of her finger smacked gently against her clit as a shiver raced over her skin.
“Let me see the piercing, Cam.”
“Sure you want to?”
Yeah, killing him.
Dead.
“Don’t make me turn off this screen,” he told her.
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
Probably not.
He wouldn’t tell her that, though.
“Let me see it, babe.”
She sucked on the fingers she had been using to fuck herself. Then, she made a V with her fingers around the hood of her clit. It allowed her to show off a tiny vertical bar that went straight through the hood of her clit. Two small balls were attached to each end of the bar. One rested on the top of the hood, and the other, right on her clit.
“You lie,” Tom said, “because no matter how good it looks—and it really, really does—that had to have hurt a whole hell of a lot.”
Cam shrugged. “Or maybe the pretty girl who did it was enough to keep my attention—”
The growl-like sound that came out of Tom surprised even him. The flood of jealousy that coursed through his system was a shock to his soul.
“I was kidding,” Camilla whispered, grinning in that way of hers.
“Better be.”
“I was. Care to show me yours now?”
“I don’t have anything new to show, Cam. It’s the same cock that had you coming a half of a dozen times.”
“Yeah, but I bet it would get me off faster to watch you play, too. Don’t you want to watch me get myself off while you come, too?”
How was Tom going to refuse her?
She was already back to toying between her clit, and the little barbell she had added to her body. Tremors rocked over her skin. Her shoulders shook. The lust darkening her gaze was enough to make him fucking wild.
“Yeah, I’ll play, babe.”
Camilla wet her lips. “When are you going to come back to New York, Tom?”
He hesitated to answer.
She had never asked him that question outright before.
“Do you want me to?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
“I’ll be back.”
“When?” she asked.
“Soon,” he promised.
Somehow.
Tom flashed her a smile. “Now show me how wet your pussy is, Cam. And start telling me how those fingers of yours can’t even compare to my cock.”
She did.
He loved it.
CHAPTER TEN
“YOU’RE COMING to dinner tonight, right?” Camilla asked. “I told Ma you probably would.”
She darted through the flood of students weaving around the halls inside the college. A blonde bumped into her, and didn’t even bother to apologize. Bitch. The exit door was just a few feet away, thankfully.
“Did you hear me?” August asked.
“Sorry, just give me a second to get outside,” Camilla said. “I don’t know if the college suddenly got two hundred more students, or what.”
In the cold March air outside, Camilla took a deep breath. The refreshing chill relaxed her far more than the stuffy halls of the college. Most times, she didn’t mind. Today had been a different story altogether.
Maybe she just needed a damn break.
“All right,” she told her friend. “What was that? Are you coming, or not?”
“Mom and I are for sure. Dad might end up working late.”
“Good, so I’ll see you then. Or did you want me to pick you up?”
“I’ll drive with Mom,” August replied. “I’m heading over there to drop off my dirty clothes anyway.”
Camilla almost laughed, but managed to hold it back. August was grown up in a lot of ways, but she was still like every other eighteen year old fresh out on their own, too. Her mom washed her clothes once a week, and came over to clean her place when needed. August didn’t like to have that pointed out, however.
“Okay.”
“Love you.”
“You, too,” Camilla told her friend.
She hung up the call, and headed for the parking lot. She was able to remote start her car from inside her last class of the day because of the proximity to the lot. The taste of spring hung heavily in the air with the damp sprinkle of rain, and the disappearing snow. Still, winter kept clinging to the weather with the bite of cold and occasionally snowflakes.
Camilla was ready to put away the thick jackets, ugly boots, and wool hats. She needed to get back to cute dresses and strappy heels.
Anytime now.
She checked her watch as she slipped into the warm Mustang GT. By the look of the time, she had lots to spare before she needed to be at her parents’ Newport home for a dinner her mother planned. It gave her time to get home, change out of the scrubs she had to wear for school, and maybe relax a bit.
She loved school. Loved to learn, and the challenges it posed. Her goal of becoming a NICU nurse was still very much alive and well in her heart.
Lately, though, school felt like a fucking chore. Something she had to do, and not something she really wanted to do. Getting up early and staring down six or more hours of classes a day was becoming more and more daunting.
School had never felt like that to her before.
She wasn’t sure what exactly was causing her restlessness and lack of interest, but she needed to shake it, and fast. Before it became a problem she couldn’t handle, and it began bleeding over more into her school work.
At least it was finally March break.
Camilla had one whole week to do nothing. That was exactly what she planned to do, too. A couple of her friends were heading to Cuba. Another was going to the Dominican with her family like they did every year.
She had been invited to join both, and she refused them.
What she really wanted to do was absolutely nothing.
Nothing for school.
No demands. No classes. No papers due. No group work.
Nothing for life, either.
No shopping, partying, or adulting.
She just wanted to chill.
Camilla’s tires spun on the wet pavement when she pulled out of the parking lot. Familiar city streets passed her by as she made the thirty minute drive to her apartment. Inside her place, she turned on some music to bleed the lecture and group work she had participated in out of her damn head. She took a quick shower, pulled on dark-wash skinny jeans and a silk blouse, and fixed her makeup.
By the time she had pulled on the knee-high suede boots, she heard the faint hum of a ringtone filtering through the rock song blaring in her apartment. She darted out of the walk-in closet to find her phone had gotten buried beneath her bag and coat.
“Shit,” Camilla said as she saw the name on the screen.
The missed
call taunted her, and teased her. All at the same time. Her month had been crazy busy. She hadn’t been able to talk to Tommaso a lot after their Skype call because of it. Once or twice, but it was always short and to the point. It kind of felt like he had been busy doing whatever he did in Chicago, too.
He never complained, though.
He never asked for more from Camilla.
She could see he had called twice while she was in the shower, and then the third time that she had heard, but missed.
Tommaso’s number instantly lit up the phone again, and she picked it up before the first ring even finished. “Hello?”
“Hey, babe.”
Her grin grew wide damn near instantly. “Hey, you.”
“You busy right now?” he asked.
“Not right now. I’ve got a few minutes to chat.”
“I’m not actually interested in talking at the moment, Cam.”
“Why would you call, then?”
What the hell else did people do on the phone?
Tommaso’s laughter echoed through the speakers. All dark, rich, and dangerous at the same time. A deep bass that rumbled through the phone, and vibrated into Camilla’s bones without even trying.
She didn’t know what it was about this man, but he had some kind of hold on her like nothing and nobody else. She wasn’t sure how to get him out from under her skin, or if she even wanted to.
“Are you going to come get me, or what?” Tommaso asked.
Camilla stared dumbly at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?”
“My flight landed at LaGuardia thirty minutes ago. I need a ride.”
“You didn’t think to let me know ahead of time that you were coming into the city? I would have already been there waiting for you when you landed.”
Six long months had already passed since he had been in New York. Of course, she would have jumped at the chance to pick him up had he told her.
Camilla briefly wondered if her brother had known about any of this, but figured it didn’t really matter.
Tommaso was back in New York.
That was all she wanted.
Now, he was just waiting for her …
“I was thinking you might like a surprise, actually,” Tommaso said, chuckling. “Are you going to come get me, Camilla, or what?”
