by Sam Mariano
“It’s not that hard to remember. You serve your man first. Unless you were having trouble remembering which one of us you belong to?”
I glare, but he can’t see it since he’s behind me. Still, I’m sure he can hear the hostility in my voice when I assure him, “Oh, no, I know exactly who I belong to.”
Sin’s voice startles me as he snaps, “Hey, are we gonna work, or what?”
“Keep your pants on,” Rafe tells him.
My blood runs cold, since I don’t know if that’s pointed. Since I just pulled Sin’s pants down and sucked him off last night, I’m paranoid. I’m convinced that means he knows.
Concern for Sin helps me put a leash on my temper and I turn back to Rafe, looking up at him with a little remorse. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I really just forgot. There’s no one here to see, anyway. It’s just us.”
“Just don’t do it again,” he tells me, holding my gaze.
Do what again? Serving Sin breakfast, or what I did last night? I’m so confused. I wish he would just say what he means. That’s all I want from Rafe—clear communication. If he’s going to go full on villain and blackmail me into this relationship, I wish he’d just tell me that. The guess work and reading into every little thing is so stressful.
I’m terrified he’ll do something that can’t be undone. I’m terrified of what he’s capable of. With Sin, it’s sexy. With Rafe, it’s scary. I don’t know why.
Well, I guess I do know why. I’m never really worried Sin would hurt Rafe, but I am worried Rafe would hurt Sin. Rafe doesn’t have the same kind of loyalty Sin has, and that makes him a bigger threat right now.
At least for the moment, I get a breather. Rafe goes back to his seat and starts eating the breakfast I made him, and I take Sin his coffee, sliding it across the island without meeting his gaze this time. As much as I enjoy his presence, I just want him to leave. I’m too anxious about Rafe watching us to be in the same room with him.
I open my book, planning to hide between its pages until Sin is gone, but what I see makes my heart stop. Scrawled in the margin of my paperback is a note that was not there when I last closed the book.
Go for a walk at 2pm.
My chest feels tight, like I can’t breathe properly. Did Sin really just jot this note in my book while I got him coffee? I peek at Rafe first to make sure he’s not looking at me, then I steal a glance at Sin.
As he sips the coffee I just gave him, he meets my gaze over the brim.
It’s all the verification I need.
My heart speeds up because I don’t know what this means. It can’t mean anything good. Whatever we’re doing here, it was a lot easier to ignore the magnitude of it when Sin was resisting. I don’t know what it means if he’s not now, all I know is it has to be bad.
I want him, I do. This isn’t a game to me; I’m not in it for the thrill of the chase or the “fun” of sneaking around. I legitimately want him, but I know I can’t have him unless Rafe says it’s okay. Sin and Rafe are clearly not on friendly ground right now, so it can’t be that. As much as I want the experiences, I don’t want Sin to be risking his ass to steal these moments with me.
And as big a dick as Rafe is being, I don’t want him hurt, either.
I have no idea what it all means, but I do know one thing: I will be going for a walk at 2pm, because wherever I live, whomever I sleep next to, I am now and will forever be Sin’s good girl.
I feel weird about leaving the house to go for a walk, mostly because it’s nothing I’ve done before. Rafe left two hours ago and Juanita is at the house cleaning, but I slipped out without telling anyone. I brought the book with me in my purse. On one hand, I can’t believe Sin vandalized my damn book. The bookworm in me is outraged. On the other, as much as I was enjoying all the words the author put on the page, having Sin’s words there makes it so much better. It’s my new favorite book now, just because it has Sin between the pages.
But on a less sentimental note, there’s the fact that he left a paper trail, and I’m reading that book while staying at Rafe’s house. I can’t imagine he would ever think to fan the pages of my books, looking for illicit notes, but now I can never leave the book lying around, just in case.
I get to the end of the driveway and look left, then right. I don’t know which way I’m supposed to go. I head to the right, toward Vince’s dad’s old house. It takes forever to get over there. Rafe’s house is in sort of a development, a cluster of expensive homes, but there is so much space between each one. It’s a nice walk, probably a safe walk. I imagine the future, pushing a stroller down this street with a babbling baby inside. Even if I might potentially be trapped in a loveless relationship with a mob boss while quietly yearning for his hired muscle, at least there’s a pretty big bright side. Thoughts of my little wiggle worm warm me all over and I place a hand on my belly.
I know I’m safe, I know the baby is safe, but I need to know the people I care about are safe, too. If Sin is going to accost me while I’m on this walk, he better give me some goddamn answers, because I am drowning in questions.
I hear the purr of his car just before he coasts to a stop beside me. I bite down on my bottom lip, barely able to contain the burst of happiness I feel when I look in the rolled down passenger window and see Sin in the driver’s seat.
“Get in,” he tells me.
I open the door and slide in without delay. “What’s going on?”
Putting his hand on the gear shift, he pushes it into drive and speeds up. “We’re going to my house.”
That wasn’t at all what I expected. “What? Why?”
Nodding toward the door, he says, “Put your damn seat belt on.”
I huff, grabbing the seat belt and stretching it across my body. When it clicks into place, I demand, “Fine. Now can you tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ve got a long night ahead of me. Some long days after that. These are my last few hours of peace. I want to spend ‘em with you.”
The raw honesty of those words knocks the words right out of me. I can only stare at him for a long moment, then eventually I find just enough of my voice to murmur, “Good answer.”
34
Sin
This was not the plan.
Last night when I left Laurel, I had no intention of seeing her again until it was all over, but then Rafe invited me to breakfast this morning. Each of us sat there, going through the motions of a liar’s dance, and I know that he knows. I’m not sure how much he knows, but whatever he knows, it’s too much.
He definitely knows I killed Theo, which means he knows why.
He might know I was with Laurel last night.
He doesn’t know Marlena is dead, and he must not know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ve turned on him, because if he did, I would not have left breakfast. He would have splattered my brains all over the tile floor, and depending on if he knew Laurel and I were together last night, maybe he would have made her clean it up as punishment.
The time for debating my options is over. I debate much longer, I won’t have any options left. I know what I have to do, but as with any war, there’s no guarantee my side wins. There’s no money-back guarantee I even have a side. I think Gio is being real with me, but it’s not impossible he and Rafe are in cahoots and Rafe just wants me gone. If I’m wrong about all this, I won’t be wrong for more than a few seconds, then I’ll be nothing.
Either way, whether it’s my last day or just my last day of peace, I want to spend it with Laurel. I don’t even care if Rafe finds out at this point. Let him find out. He’ll know soon enough. Laurel is mine, not his, and if he doesn’t have the fucking sense to figure that out by now, that’s on him.
I look over at her now and she looks peaceful. I stopped and bought her a milkshake, so she’s sipping on it, watching out the window as the wind blows her long dark hair. She seems content, even though she doesn’t know where we’re headed. I mean, sure, she knows we’re going to my house, but in the larger s
ense she has to know something is up.
I get the impression she’d follow me anywhere, and I fucking like it.
I’d follow her anywhere, too.
I sort of wish I’d said yes the first time she asked me about Chicago. I don’t want any part of the war I’m about to start. I don’t want to lose men I’ve worked beside for years, I don’t want to upend this whole damn family again. We can’t keep doing this. Shit like this needs to be handled and then not repeated again for a long time so people have enough time to forget, otherwise you start looking like you have instability, and instability brings out the predators. Other crews sense weakness, they’ll pounce on it and try to take more power for themselves. You lose enough of your guys, you’re asking for an ambitious up-and-comer to come at you with all they’ve got.
Especially now, that’s the last thing any of us needs.
I can’t think about what comes after, though. First things first, and the first thing is dealing with Rafe.
Well, the first thing after I make sure this is what Laurel wants. I’m tempted to keep her in the dark about some things—I know she’d let me get away with it—but before I make her mine permanently, I need to make sure she knows what she’s in for. I already see things going sour with her and Rafe, and I couldn’t bear to have that happen to us. I’ve lived through that hell before. I won’t do it again.
“Good milkshake?”
Laurel looks over at me, smiling brightly and nodding her head. “Very good. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her, reaching over and taking her free hand, twining our fingers together.
“I’ll thank you more vehemently when we get back to your house,” she offers, her smile turning suggestive.
“Damn right you will,” I tell her.
This makes her grin, and her happiness makes all this bullshit feel worth it. She wants me as much as I want her, and there’s not a single fucking reason we shouldn’t have each other if that’s the case. Rafe can fuck right off with his bullshit.
When we pull into my driveway, I’m struck by a memory of the first time I stole her, how pretty she looked sleeping in the passenger’s seat, how unaware she was of the shit she was about to go through.
She took it in stride, though. I’m not sure anything can keep Laurel down, and I love that about her. As much as it pissed me off when she kissed Rafe at breakfast this morning, I couldn’t help cheering for her a little, too—he clearly wanted to intimidate and bully her a little bit, and she wasn’t having that shit.
She’s so fucking great. I squeeze her hand again before releasing it altogether so we can get out of the car.
Laurel pauses in front of the car and looks up at the house, sighing. “I missed this place.”
I smile faintly, heading for the front door. “Missed your cage, did you?”
“I did,” she says, following me. “Lock me up inside and don’t let me out again, I won’t complain. My sister will. She’ll definitely show up on your doorstep with something to say about it. But personally, I’ll be fine until fall semester starts.”
“I have to let you out then, huh?”
“I’ll probably want to go out to eat, too. I’ll need field trips. But I’m down to spend most of my time cuffed to your bed.”
“I can’t believe I forgot to buy you a ball gag,” I murmur, twisting the key in the last lock and opening the door.
“Oh, you love listening to all my nonsense,” she tells me, following me in the house.
Once we’re inside, I feel edgy. I know there’s no chance anyone is inside because I had the place locked down, but knowing what’s coming, I can’t help feeling a little tense. I put an arm out in front of Laurel, backing her up against the wall. I secure each lock on the door, then make my way up the stairs and take care of the alarm. Even though we’re inside, I lock up like we’re going to sleep.
I’m hoping I can have these last few peaceful hours, but I’m a little cagey as I stalk through the house with my gun at the ready, double checking every potential place to make sure we are, in fact, alone.
Laurel’s good mood ebbs as she realizes what I’m doing. She doesn’t say anything, but I see it in her face. Before we were just taking a ride while she had her milkshake and she could believe everything might be fine, but now I’m checking every crevice of my own house like there might be danger around the corner.
Then there’s the fact that after telling her she can’t have me over and over again, I just showed up at Rafe’s house and shoved my dick in her mouth last night. Clearly something has changed, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it can’t be all good news.
I check my bedroom last. Since she’s following me, we both end up there. Once I know the place is secure, I sigh and put my gun down on the bedside table.
Laurel attempts a smile, but I can still see the worry weighing her down. “No gun foreplay today, huh?”
“Nah, not today.”
She looks down, causing her hair to fall in her face. As she tucks it back behind her ear, she looks up at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?”
I shake my head, advancing toward her. “Not just yet.”
Her gaze remains on me, but she backs up against the wall. I don’t mind; that’s right where I want her. Right against the wall where she stood last time she was in this bedroom, when I fucked it all up.
I can see the memory replaying in her mind as she stands with her back against the wall, looking up at me. The room is so silent I can hear her swallow. “I’m sorry I ever let you leave,” I tell her.
A mess of emotions shine in her eyes, but she doesn’t speak. That’s all right. She’s done plenty of talking; now it’s my turn.
Since I’m more effective at communicating things to her with my body than my words, I start there. I grab her hands and push them over her head. She looks perfect here—part masterpiece, part sacrifice. I’m not much for art, but I know awe-inspiring beauty when I see it, and it shines right out of her. Not just her face or her body, but her heart. She’s got a gorgeous heart, and she’s opened it up to me right from the start. I don’t know why, but I won’t question my luck.
As my gaze rakes over her, hers warms. The worry falls off her shoulders, the conflicted feelings drain out of her eyes. There’s nothing in her eyes right now I don’t want to see.
I run my fingers lightly down the backs of her arms, my blood heating as she sighs and closes her eyes, relishing the pleasure of my touch. Settling my hands around her waist, I lean into her, pressing close and bending my head to kiss her neck. She sighs again, lowering her arms so she can wrap them around my body and tug me closer.
When I finish kissing her neck, I kiss my way along her jaw, but stop just before I get to her mouth. Force of habit. She doesn’t even complain now, she just leans into my hand as I cup her face.
I watch her, trying to read her face like she tried to read her book this morning.
“I don’t want him to kiss you again,” I tell her.
She meets my gaze with surprised blue eyes, but she nods her agreement. “Okay.”
“Can you make that promise?” I ask, out of curiosity, caressing her face. “Does he make you kiss him?”
Now her gaze drops briefly, but it rises to meet mine again after only a second. “I should be able to. I mean, unless you’re around, he hasn’t wanted to kiss me much lately anyway.”
That draws a frown out of me. “Why not?”
Amusement flits across her face. “Are you offended on my behalf? You’ve never kissed me once, so you don’t have room to talk.”
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve kissed someone,” I admit.
The amusement on her face dies, like she knows there’s a reason behind that, and it’s not going to be a bit funny.
There is, but I’m not ready to get into that yet.
Pulling back, I tell her, “Take your shirt off.”
She does, without hesitation. While she d
raws her shirt off, I draw mine off, too. I see the desire blossom in her eyes as soon as she sees my bare skin. I don’t plan to give up control of this moment, but she must need to kiss me, because instead of pressing me for my story—or even just waiting for it and not distracting me—she bends her head and starts kissing me all over. My neck, my shoulders, my chest. Her plump lips are everywhere, covering as much of me as she can. Her kisses get hotter and slower when she makes it to my hands. I don’t know why she loves my hands so much, but she fixates on them, kissing my fingers and holding my gaze.
“Can I taste you?” she asks, her hands dropping to my belt.
“You like to taste me, don’t you?”
“I love it.” She leans in and kisses my neck again, like I might need to be sweetened up before I let her suck my dick. “Will you fuck my face like before? On the bed, with me under you?”
Christ, she’s making it hard to remember why we need to talk. Fisting a hand in her hair, I pull her close, kissing the side of her face. “I’ll fuck your face, but I want you in the shower. I want you naked and wet. I want you cuffed and helpless.”
The breath goes out of her and she bites down on her bottom lip, nodding her head. “Yes. Yes to all of that.”
35
Laurel
It feels like Christmas and my birthday all at once when Sin takes my hand and drags me down the hall, toward his bathroom. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know why it’s happening, but I’m not going to worry about that right now. I’ve fantasized about Sin on top of me so many nights, craving the way he dominated my body, the way he made me his treasured toy. I’ve never been as into oral as I am with him, but I’ve never felt the way I feel when he shoves his dick into my throat, either.
I want it so badly.
I want him so badly.
As soon as we get to the bathroom, he spins me around, pushes me against the door, and starts unbuttoning my shorts. My pulse pounds. Like he can’t wait another second to touch me, instead of shoving my shorts down, he shoves his hand down the front and cups my pussy in his palm, pressing me against the door with his body and kissing my forehead.
