by Sam Mariano
“It was a joke,” I offer.
“No, it wasn’t. Jokes are funny,” she informs me, sticking her nose in the air and rising, going back to the coffee table to get herself some food. Stealing a glance at me as she shoves a spoon into a bowl of rice, she asks, “Do you really like her? If you’re just covering Rafe’s ass, you can tell me. I honestly don’t care.”
That’s not what Rafe said. “How about we drop Marlena for the night?”
“Drop her from where? Somewhere high?” she asks innocently. I bite back a smile, but Laurel is still going like a dog with a bone. “Are you planning to see her again?”
“It’s not really your business, is it?” I ask mildly.
I’m not trying to make her feel shitty; I just really don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know what the hell Rafe is up to with the shitty waitress and I don’t like covering his ass, but it’s already done now. Admitting I couldn’t give less fucks about the waitress would feed Laurel’s hopes that I never wanted to go out with her in the first place. It will feed her dead-end hopes about getting with me, and it will turn her off Rafe to know he was doing whatever shady shit he was doing before I intervened and reminded him not to be a bastard.
This is a fucking mess. I know I helped make it a mess, but fuck, I need to wear a hazmat suit just to wade through all this shit.
“How are things with Rafe?” I ask her.
“That’s none of your business, is it?” she shoots back.
“It kind of is.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she tells me. I wait for further explanation, but I don’t get one.
We eat quietly for a few minutes. Well, she eats. I finish the steak on a stick, but I can’t really eat the rest of it with Skylar sleeping on my chest. I’d put her down, but I don’t know if she’s a light sleeper and I don’t want to wake her up.
Eventually Laurel sighs heavily and catches my attention. She’s giving me a surly look, but she walks over and sits next to me, holding a plate of food and a white plastic spoon.
“Open up,” she tells me.
I lift an eyebrow. “No chance.”
Rolling her eyes, she says, “Don’t be a baby. You can’t hold the plate and eat. Just take a bite.”
“You’re not feeding me,” I inform her.
“Why not?”
“Because I am not 5-months-old.”
Shrugging, she leans forward and puts the plate down on the coffee table. “Fine, starve then.” That lasts three seconds, then she asks, “Want me to take her so you can eat?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m straddling the line between worrying about you and wanting to stab you—would you like me to step back over to the other side?”
“You know you’re only allowed to be possessive of things you actually possess, right?” I ask her, just to be a dick.
It’s mean, so her eyes narrow at me. “Oh, yeah? So you never have any possessive feelings about me then, huh?”
I consider telling that bold-faced lie for a split second, but in the end, I decide not to. It’s too obviously bullshit. Just seeing her sit close to Rafe at the club, knowing he was the one going home with her, made me fucking crazy. After six years of serving this family and never once wavering, since I met this girl, I’ve considered betraying everything I stand for just about every goddamned day.
She doesn’t know any of that, and God help me if she ever figures it out. Her ruthless little ass would probably encourage me, convince me to raise an army against Rafe—and hey, why stop there? Just overthrow the Morelli family altogether and take the reins myself. I certainly know all the important players in this town.
Actually, no, she still doesn’t want me to hurt the fucking bastard, so that’s probably more my fantasy of what Laurel would say than what she would actually say. If it came down to a choice between his safety or mine, I think she would pick mine, but she doesn’t want anyone to get hurt because she likes impossible things.
At least, I’m fairly certain she values my well-being—until she keeps talking.
“When you see Rafe’s hand on my inner thigh, I bet you don’t think about how he could push his long fingers between my legs and touch me right there at the table. You like Marlena now, right? So you don’t care if Rafe finger fucks me right in front of you. You don’t care how many times he makes me come. You don’t care if he takes me home afterward, strips off all my clothes, drags his lips over every inch of my naked body the way you did once. You don’t care if he pushes me down on his bed, climbs on top of me, and drives his cock deep—”
I reach out and grab a fistful of her satin robe, yanking her close. “Stop talking.”
All innocence, she asks, “Why? Feeling possessive?”
“That goddamn mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days,” I inform her, forcibly unclenching my fist and letting her go.
Only once I’ve released her she doesn’t lean back. She stays close, because she likes to fucking torture me. Because for all her brain power, the damn girl doesn’t have a lick of sense when it comes to keeping her distance from dangerous assholes. “So I keep hearing. What are you actually gonna do about it though, Sin?” she asks, lifting a dark eyebrow. “Not a damn thing, that’s what.”
Motherfucker.
I’ve been reluctant to move, not wanting to wake the baby, but I can’t just let this fucking girl sit here and call me out like that.
Well, I guess I could. I definitely should.
Instead, I rise up off the couch, shifting Skylar on my chest, and walk over to the bassinet. I put her down gently, but she still shifts. Her little arm shoots up in the air briefly, then settles on her tummy. The ache in my chest as I look down at her almost makes me forget why I stood up in the first place. This whole night is part fantasy, part nightmare, and it doesn’t get any easier when I turn around and see Laurel sitting on the couch, her long legs curled up behind her, watching me with undisguised interest. There she sits, looking like everything I’ve ever wanted and belonging to someone else.
The thing I should do is turn and walk right out the door. The baby is settled, the mess is cleaned up, and Laurel is fed; my work here is done. I shouldn’t respond to such obvious bait, but it’s different now. It’s different because she’s not taunting me with what might happen, she’s taunting me with what did happen. There’s no way in hell that after seeing me out with Marlena last night, she didn’t fuck Rafe when they went home, even if only to spite me.
The night at the club she floored me, telling me she hadn’t slept with him yet. The greedy, possessive side of me wanted that to mean she wouldn’t, but I knew that couldn’t last forever. Deep in my selfish heart, I was relieved that she wasn’t ready. When I showed up at the doctor’s house, I was all too happy to threaten his ass into lying. Anything that kept Rafe’s hands off Laurel longer was a plan I could get behind.
I knew it ran counter to getting them together, but it was a nice fucking fantasy. Women have flung committed relationships out the door for the chance to screw around with Rafe, and here’s this one who—by all rights—should be his, but I’m the one she wants. That she was telling him no even when I told her we couldn’t be together was seductive as hell. I like that kind of single-minded devotion. I like it a whole hell of a lot.
I don’t hold it against her that she finally fucked him, but I sure as hell don’t want to hear about it. It was bad enough when Rafe baited me at the restaurant, telling me what she looked like kneeling for him, but to hear it from Laurel’s lips really pisses me off. Even if she should want to hurt me, even if I deserve it, I don’t like her saying shit like that to me.
Even if it makes both our lives harder than they need to be, I like Laurel wanting me. It’s selfish as hell, but I don’t want her to stop.
I walk slowly to stand in front of the couch, my eyes trained on her the whole way. When I get there, I reach back and grab my T-shirt by the neck, tugging it off
and tossing it on the floor. Laurel’s blue eyes widen as they drop to rake a glance over my bare chest, then dart back to my face. She swallows, looking up at me with a sort of fascinated unease—like I’m the big bad wolf, but she wants me to eat her whole.
“This what you want?” I ask her, putting a hand on her chest and shoving her down on the couch. I don’t know why I expect a little struggle; I don’t get one. She lets me push her on her back, then watches me climb on top of her. Her big blue eyes never move away from mine.
Once I have her body pinned beneath me, the breath rushes out of her and she swallows, but doesn’t speak. Like she didn’t expect that to work, and she’s afraid to trust it. Smart girl.
Well, not that smart, because she thinks it’s a good idea to antagonize me into fucking her, and it isn’t. That is a bad fucking idea, and the damn girl needs to get that through her head.
Now that I’m on top of her, I twine my fingers together with hers like I’m gonna hold her hands, but instead I push them over her head. Her godforsaken robe falls open so I can see her belly button, so I can see the pretty bra and panties she put on to come down here and tempt me with.
“You want me to fuck you, Laurel?” I ask, leaning in to press my lips against her neck.
She sighs with pleasure, her head drifting to the side to make room for me. “Yes.”
“Right here? We’re on Rafe’s couch. That doesn’t bother you?”
“You can fuck me on his bed, if you really want to,” she tells me.
Damn, that’s fucking brutal. I can’t help smiling a little, my tongue darting out to taste her skin. “I don’t know, you didn’t ask very nicely,” I tell her.
“Please,” she whispers, holding me closer. “Please fuck me.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for, pretty girl,” I murmur, dragging my lips across her jaw.
“I don’t care,” she says, eyes closed, her chest already working. She is so fucking hot for me. God, it’s impossible not to want this woman. “I’m not fragile, Sin. You can be as rough as you want. I love when you’re rough with me. I want all your violence.”
Jesus Christ, this woman is going to be the death of me.
I growl, releasing one of her hands so I can grab a fistful of her hair and tug her head back. I lean in and kiss her jawline, then kiss her neck more roughly, nipping and sucking before I realize I can’t do that. I can’t leave a mark on her, because Rafe will see it.
Fuck. I pull back before I get too lost in this moment to remember to pull myself out of it. Laurel damn sure doesn’t help, spreading her legs for me, hooking one around my hip so I can fit myself right up against her barely covered pussy.
“Sin,” she says on a sigh, wrapping the arm she has free around my neck and pulling me into her.
“Is this what you want, Laurel?”
“Yes. Yes, please,” she adds, remembering her manners. “Please give it to me, Sin. I want this. I want it so much.”
I run a hand along her face approvingly, but I keep from verbalizing it. “Yeah? What will you do for it?”
Her response is hungry and eager, her blue eyes dancing with arousal as I grind my cock against her. “Anything you want. I’ll do anything.”
I lean down to kiss her forehead and her pretty eyes drift closed. I almost feel bad for what I’m about to ask, given how peaceful she looks right now. “Do you know what it’ll cost, Laurel?”
It takes a moment for my words to land, her mind and body already too far gone. Her eyes open when it hits her and she sighs again, but this time with something closer to exasperation. “Dammit. This is a trick, isn’t it?”
My rigid cock testifies it’s not purely a trick, but I know I can’t fuck her. No matter how much my stupid cock wants to get inside her hot pussy, I can’t afford to make a move like that. Rafe isn’t going to kill her for straying, but he will kill me for fucking his woman. Or I kill him before he sees it coming, and that opens up a whole new world of problems.
Despite her words, despite figuring out I’m toying with her again, the hand I still have pinned above her head squeezes mine. It’s almost a reflex, like she can’t help it, and I get it, ‘cause I can’t help squeezing her back.
“If I fuck you, somebody has to die,” I tell her simply.
She shakes her head in denial, her long dark hair moving against Rafe’s couch. “That’s not true. I told you, we could go to Chicago. We could be happy there.”
“And I told you, Chicago won’t work.”
“Chicago is a great plan. I worked it all out,” she informs me. “You can work for Mateo, Mia and I can raise babies together, I can go to school, and the best part? You can fuck me as much as you want. No Rafe, no problems.”
“Rafe will not let that happen,” I state.
Laurel shrugs like she’s not convinced, her gaze dropping to my chest. “We don’t know unless we ask.”
Now that I’m not actively mauling her, she takes a moment to look me over. Her gaze is full of tenderness, like she’s spent an eternity missing me. I know it’s only been a few days, but I get it. I’ve missed her the same way. I didn’t know I’d let her get so close when I had her at my house, not even the night I chased her off. It didn’t hit me until afterward, when the solitude I needed to live before her suddenly felt like loneliness. When I dreaded going home to my bed at night because I knew she wouldn’t be there waiting for me.
It’s so hard to look at her now, wanting all the same things I want, and tell her she can’t have them. The injustice of it all pisses me off, but I remind myself it’s my fault. I’m the one who set her free in the first place. I may not have had rights to her, but I took them, and I gave Rafe a fair shot first. He could try to steal her from me, but I had played fair.
Wouldn’t have mattered once the DNA test came back positive, though.
Wouldn’t have mattered if he played the long game, waited for my newness to wear off, then swept in, swept Laurel off her feet, and stole her back from me.
One thing I’ve learned in life—most people don’t know what it is to love forever. As soon as it isn’t explosive anymore, they get bored and go looking for new excitement. I’d like to believe Laurel’s different, and her giving me devotion I haven’t earned helps me believe that, but she’s so young. How does she know how she’ll feel in a few years?
“Tell me something,” I say, bringing her big blue eyes back to my face.
“Okay,” she says, easily. Too easily. Too trusting, considering what I’ve done to her.
“If you’re willing to cheat on him with me, why shouldn’t I think you’d do the same thing if we were together?”
Laurel rears back as if insulted. “I am not cheating on him. I’ve never cheated on anybody. I don’t belong to Rafe. How many times do I have to say that?”
“Maybe you didn’t,” I allow. “But as soon as you let him fuck you again, you changed that.”
Her face relaxes instantly, like my annoying her was a false alarm. Then she brings her free hand up to caress my jaw. “I didn’t sleep with him, Sin. I’m not going to. I don’t want to. I’m yours, not his. Can’t you tell?” With a little smile, she adds, “And what kind of crazy woman would cheat on you? You kill men for a living, and you’re hotter than anyone else alive.”
My lips tug upward. “You might be a little biased right now, seeing as you’re nearly naked and pinned beneath my body.”
“No, I did a study of the world’s men. You’re the hottest. I was the only subject polled, so it was pretty exclusive, but in this instance, mine is the only relevant opinion.”
I shake my head at my little nerd and lean in to kiss her on the forehead again. When I pull back, she purses her lips at me, prettily displeased.
“Still no kisses? Really?”
I feel shittier about it now than I did before, but I brush her hair back tenderly and tell her, “You’re not mine to kiss.”
“I’ll tell Rafe this isn’t working tonight. As soon as he gets
home. Hell, I’ll text it to him. That’s about all he deserves since he can’t even be bothered to come help me with Skylar. I’ll text him as soon as Gio and Lydia pick her up. I’ll grab my stuff and we can be gone before he even gets home to try to talk me out of it—if he even tries to talk me out of it, which he might not at this point. This thing between us is not working. He wants someone who isn’t me, and I want someone who isn’t him. It’s no one’s fault, but he and I don’t have a future together.”
I think she’s being naïve, but it’ll only piss her off to tell her that. She doesn’t know Rafe the way I do, hasn’t known him as long as I have. In her mind, it’s as simple as breaking it off and walking away, but it won’t be. It can’t be. Not with who he is. Not with the family he hails from. Laurel might object to being referred to as Rafe’s property, but she is. Right now I am begging for a bullet to the back of the skull, just being here with her like this.
Laurel continues trying to convince me. “This isn’t wrong, you and me. It’s right.”
As if the motherfucker has some secret sense and he knows he needs to make his presence known right now, her phone vibrates between us. I know it’s Rafe. It fucking has to be.
“Guess who,” I murmur.
Laurel frowns, fishing around for the phone but apparently not finding it. It vibrated against my hip and I’m flush against her, so it’s gotta be in her pocket.
“I can’t find it,” she mutters, then it vibrates a second time and her hand stops moving. Suddenly it moves again, too quickly for me to realize she pulled the phone out of my pocket. Flashing me a mischievous smile as she takes a peek, she says, “Ha, my turn.”
“Give me that,” I say, grabbing the damn thing away from her, but I’m confused by the couple shades of color her face loses. Fuck, she shouldn’t be reading my work messages. I turn the phone around to see what the hell she just read—not that anyone should be explicit enough in a text message that she would know what they were saying anyway—but then I see something far fucking worse.
Two messages in a row from Marlena.
