Chapter Thirty-Two
Iknow I said we didn’t have to fuck, but now I was kicking myself, because after we ate the food that was coming, I wanted to fucking dine on her for dessert, and end the night with her gasping my name out.
You know, instead of screaming it, she’d be so fucking breathless with what I was doing to her, that she’d barely be able to speak.
That’s the pinnacle. That’s when you’ve fucked your woman into the middle of next fucking month.
“I uh… the room’s nice. It’s a suite.” I know she wasn’t telling me that, she was just making idle conversation, and look, it was tempting to book a smaller room, so we’d have to sit on the bed to eat and talk, but for once, I wasn’t just trying to get in her pants.
Again, what a fucking moron I was for that. I couldn’t undo it now though.
“Yeah. Uh, I have a minibar, if you want something to drink?”
“Just some water. I drove here.” If I had my way, she wouldn’t be driving again until tomorrow, but maybe that was my dick doing all the thinking.
It definitely wasn’t my fucking heart. I had to stop acting like this was love or something, because it couldn’t be.
Anything more than a fling would be too dangerous for her.
I mean, it’d get me killed too, but that didn’t bother me.
At this point, my life was all about having so many things to lose, that even one of them would make life not fucking worth it.
“Grease?”
I grabbed the water and took it to her, and groaned when there was a knock on the door in the next moment.
I opened it to let the room service guy in, fighting the urge to check him, and the little trolley for all the things a mafia guy had to fear.
Nobody knew I was here, so I had to just fucking chill.
Even so, after I’d taken the trays from him, and locked the door behind him, I gave the trays a quick cursory check, and the rims of the plates, just to make sure there were no bugs or anything. Mafia life was just too fucking risky.
I lifted covers off of the plates. “Uh… there’s a steak dinner, a linguine, and uh… some vegetarian crap. I… do you eat meat?”
Her cheeks reddened as she stared back at me, and I couldn’t help smirking at her.
“You can put that meat in your mouth later if you want, but which of these do you want?”
She glared as she stood up, coming over to look at the meals.
“Or I could order something else. You wanna foot-long sandwich or something?” She slapped my chest again.
“I chose to let you off with the other comment, but wind it in, Grease. What do you think is going to happen here? You said you wanted to see me, and… and here I am, but-”
“And you look real nice, little pain. You dressed up for me? You look good enough to eat…” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip as I watched my words sink in, and she sucked in a deep breath, like she forgot to breathe for a few seconds, and I had plenty of ways to make her forget how to fucking breathe.
“I thought we… I thought we made a clean break, Grease.” She tilted her head as we hovered over those plates, staring at each other. Fuck me. I was losing her, and suddenly all I wanted was to fucking keep her here.
“Choose a plate, PC Pain. I’m hungry.”
She shot me another glare, and snatched the vegetarian plate, stomping back over to the sofa with it. Fuck me. I thought she’d take my steak. I covered up the linguine, because sure, I’m Italian, but I wanted meat, and I won’t apologise for that.
I sat beside her and rested my plate on the low table, dragging it closer for her. It really wasn’t ideal for a fucking meal, but it was all we had.
Jamie groaned and slipped down to sit on the carpet with her back against the sofa, and her legs tucked under the low table, which of course was suddenly a good height for eating. Fuck it. I joined her.
“This wasn’t what I pictured,” I said as I sliced my steak in half and checked the cook on it. I’m a steak snob, and if they overcooked it, I’ll go and ram it down their fucking throats.
“Damn, that does look good,” Jamie said, biting her lip as she stared at my plate. Fuck it. Apparently I’m a pussy when it comes to this woman.
“You wanna swap?”
She giggled, gesturing to her veggie crap.
“You’d eat this instead?”
“Fuck no, I’ll eat the other plate, but I’ll give you my meat if you want it.”
Eventually she decided she’d have a slice of the steak with her dinner, so we compromised and settled into eating.
“I’m guessing Rocket was a complete prick when you arrested him?”
She sighed. “I think it’s partly my fault. I was pushing him for a reaction and I got one.”
“So the trouble with the other guy has all blown over?”
A quick look at the fierce glare she was giving her dinner told me it hadn’t.
“Jamie, don’t let some prick from my club lose you everything you worked for, even if… even if that prick is me.”
Jamie
It was hard to not find him appealing when he was being genuine and decent, and not just being a perv.
Not that I didn’t enjoy his hot, dirty side, but this was a new experience.
Having a normal conversation with him, where he wasn’t Grease, the biker, the bad idea.
He was just Grease, the man with a weird ass name.
“Why Grease?”
He blinked at me for a moment, suddenly chuckling as he caught up with my unexpected question.
“Well… I dunno, I guess I look like some greasy Italian bastard, right?”
So maybe he was Italian. I had wondered, but with a name like Grease, he could be called anything.
“Is your real name some sexy Italian name that you’d rather hear me murmuring as you… oh god. What’s wrong with me? I’m sorry. I’m hitting on you after everything I said. I’m such a bitch.”
Grease laughed, reaching up to stroke my cheek. “Little pain, you could never be a bitch. I mean you could, but I’d still like it. You could chew my ass out every fucking minute, and I’d still find you hot as fuck.”
“So… are you called like Luigi or Mario or something?”
“Because I’m a Super Mario Brother, all of a sudden? I’m sure that’s incredibly offensive or something, but no. My parents were Italian, but I was born here, and raised by… an uncle.”
“That’s not telling me your name. Why are you being weird about that?”
He turned back to his plate. “Because I’m not whoever I was before.
I’m Grease. I’m a biker. I fucking love everything about being Grease, so why the fuck would I want to go back to an old name I had, that I didn’t get to choose?
” Whoa. Someone was pissed about his old life, but why?
What about his old life was so awful that it made him this defensive and angry?
“I’m sorry, I-”
A ringing phone from the bedside made him curse, and scramble up from the floor, banging both knees on the table as he did.
“Fuck! Sorry, I need to get that.” I shrugged, and carried on with my food, but my spidey senses were tingling all of a sudden, especially as I watched him from under my lashes, and saw the colour drain from his face, making him almost pale.
“He’s where? FUCK! Why? Why now? Jesus Christ!”
He listened for a moment, while I blatantly watched him now, because a person in my line of work tended towards nosiness in situations like this.
“Micro, why the hell did he come? Is someone fucking informing on me?”
Informing on him? Informing about what? To whom?
“Grease?”
He frantically shushed me, turning away to hiss into his phone.
“Does he fucking know where I am? Jesus fuck. Yes, of course I’m with her! Where the fuck else would I be?”
He turned and punched the wall, and I froze in place, having scrambled up from the floor to approach him. Suddenly I wasn’t sure he was even safe to approach.