Chapter 20 #2
My nostrils flare. “I do fucking say so. Do I need to remind you who’s the boss here?”
I’m irritated as hell with my brother. Not just because of his closeness with my wife, but because of what he said to me.
“Not at all,” he says mockingly. “Have a good night sleeping on the couch, frattore mio .”
“I’m not sleeping on the couch.”
Saint doesn’t respond, just turns and walks out on me like Luna did.
Fine.
I’m in a mood, so I decide that fuck it, I’m going to go for a swim.
Luna
I glare at the closed door that my husband hasn’t bothered to try opening.
I was so angry with Priest when I got back to the bedroom that I rage-showered, annoyed with his high-handed arrogance, and took out my frustration on the shampoo bottle and the shower gel.
I even considered how much damage I could do with the razor he grudgingly allowed me to have before I had to acknowledge that the idea of causing him physical harm appalls me.
I told myself it was because I can’t stand the sight of blood, but the truth is, I like him too much, even after everything that’s happened, and I hate myself for that.
Then I dried off, put on some comfy pajama shorts and an oversized tee, and threw my wet hair into a bun, trying to make myself as unattractive as possible.
Because there’s no way I’m going to be stupid enough to have sex with him again.
First of all, we’ve had unprotected sex three times now. I’m not proud of that. I’ve never done something so reckless. But in my defense, I didn’t anticipate being kidnapped by a sexy-as-fuck Mafia don with a magical dick. And tongue. And fingers.
The door remains mockingly still and silent as I watch it, waiting for him.
There’s no lock on the inside, of course. But it opens inward, so after my shower, I moved one of the heavy nightstands in front of it. Not an easy feat, and I feel a slight twinge in my lower back that I may pay for later.
Who does he think he is, storming into the living room and demanding that I go to bed for committing the crime of enjoying a documentary with his brother? It’s not like being trapped here is my idea. It’s not like I have a choice.
I tap my fingers on my knee as I wait on the bed, sitting criss-cross applesauce, waiting for him to try to get into the room.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here like this, staring and ruminating. Because I don’t have a phone or a clock. Because I’m a prisoner down here, I remind myself. Hidden away against my will in the bowels of his casino.
I think about all this, and I allow my anger to grow and blossom like a flower.
But it doesn’t do me any good because the door is still closed, and Priest still hasn’t tried to get through it.
I’ve been denied the pleasure of his fury when he realizes I’ve blocked him out.
It’s not like he won’t be able to easily move the nightstand.
I know that. It’s the symbolism, the rebellion. It’s me giving him a giant fuck-you.
One he isn’t going to see because he’s not coming to me tonight.
Is he that angry with me for what happened in the living room? Does he actually think I want to sleep with his brother? If so, he’s delusional. Why choose is totally not my jam, and one mobster dick is more than enough for me to contend with.
The thought of Priest’s cock sends a pulse of arousal to my clit.
I know that I shouldn’t want him. But I can’t seem to help myself.
We’re incendiary together. When he’s gone, I can’t stop thinking about him.
When he’s here, he makes me want him so badly that I can barely stand myself.
It’s like I become a whole different person with Priest.
Where did he go? Did he leave the safe house?
Or is this some kind of elaborate, nefarious game he’s playing with me? Is he trying to teach me a lesson? To string me along until I’m out of my mind with lust for him?
Suddenly, I can’t wait another minute. I’ve got to know.
With a low, annoyed sound, I fling myself off the bed and go to the nightstand, hauling the hulking piece of furniture away from the door. I’m not surrendering. He hasn’t won. But I can’t keep sitting here, waiting for him like a lapdog. I’m going to go and find him.
To give him a piece of my mind.
My back twinges again as I thrust the nightstand to the side, and then I’m flinging open the door.
No one is out in the hall, and it’s quiet.
I tiptoe to the living room, half expecting to find Saint there binge-watching more crime documentaries without me.
But the TV is off and the lights are low, nothing more than the night-lights that ring the perimeter of the room glowing.
“Saint?” I try tentatively.
No answer.
“Priest?”
Still silence.
Did they abandon me here? My throat goes tight at the thought of being alone, locked inside the safe house without anyone else, no one in the world but a couple of mobsters aware I’m here.
Oh my God, if something happens to them on the outside, what if no one comes back for me? What if I’m stuck here forever, until I run out of food and water? What if I die here?
My panic is rising, clawing at me, threatening to take control.
But I don’t want to give in like I did before.
Calm down, Luna. Calm down, Luna. Calm the fuck down, Luna.
It’s a mantra that I repeat to myself in my mind, over and over.
I try to control my fear and go to the kitchen, which is also empty. I head past the gym, but the lights are totally out. Then I remember the little tour Saint took me on, and I decide to try the pool. The door to the pool room is closed, but I see a glow coming from under it.
I push it open and instantly regret coming here.
Because I finally find Priest.
He’s swimming in the pool, stroke after stroke of his muscled arms propelling him forward, his broad, muscled shoulders rippling as he carves through the water.
Also, he’s completely naked.
Every inch of that gorgeous, inked body of his is on display.
I should close the door and go back to my room, leave him to his swim. But there’s something mesmerizing about the sight of him, his dark hair slicked to his head, the sheen of the water on him. Those muscles. That ass.
He laps the pool more times than I bother to count as I watch, my ovaries practically doing somersaults of joy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hot as Priest, naked in the pool, the lights low.
When he reaches the opposite end of the pool, he finally stops, standing, his breathing hard. I need to go, but my feet feel like they’re glued to the floor, and my eyes are definitely glued to his muscled back, the tracery of intricate black ink. For some reason, I never noticed it before.
It’s an image of death, cloaked and menacing, holding a sickle.
“Like what you see, baby?”
My breath catches.
Caught.
It’s too late to run, so I push through the door and steel myself against his magnetism. “I’ve seen better.”
He chuckles darkly and turns around, pushing wet hair away from his face.
His chest is a masterpiece.
I want to lick every drop of water from his skin.
“Is that so?” he asks, his tone making it clear he doesn’t believe me.
Not for a second.
Also, he’s not wrong. I’m sure I’m ruining my panties right now, and it’s as frustrating as it is annoying. I hate the effect this man has on me. Even when I’m furious with him, and despite knowing he’s a dangerous criminal, I want him so much I can barely breathe.
I lick my lips and cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see how hard my nipples are. “Yeah. That’s so.”
“Liar,” he growls.
Taunting me.
Tempting me.
I shrug like I’m completely unaffected. “Think whatever you like.”
“If you’re so immune to me, then why don’t you get in?”
His challenge sends a flood of heat through me. It’s as if my skin is suddenly too tight for my body. My heart thuds hard in my chest.
“I don’t have a suit,” I tell him.
He just grins, the devil. “You don’t need one.”
Yes, I do. Oh yes, I absolutely do when this infuriating, too-handsome-for-his-own-good gangster is naked and dripping and looking at me like he didn’t get dessert at dinner, but that’s okay because he’s decided he’ll have me instead.
“I’m good,” I say.
But I’m anything but.
He chuckles, the sound making my clit throb. “You don’t trust yourself, do you?”
What woman in her right mind would?
He swims toward me slowly, a predator intent upon his prey.
“Of course I do,” I insist stupidly.
What I should be doing is going back to my room and hauling that big-ass nightstand back in front of the door. Instead, I’m standing here like a lamb for the slaughter. Too lust-drunk to move.
Priest stops halfway across the pool and stands, watching me. Waiting.
“Fine,” I bite out, too proud not to take the bait.
Too stupid, maybe.
I grab my tee and whip it over my head. I’m not wearing a bra, and the warm, damp air curls around my bare skin. Nothing I can do to hide my nipples from him now. Too bad. If he thinks I’m going to melt into his arms and be seduced by him again, he’s wrong.
I’ll show his annoying ass.
Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of my pj shorts, I haul them down, taking my thong with them. Then I pull the elastic hair tie from my bun and let my wet hair fall down my back.
Meeting his gaze defiantly, I jump in with as much grace as I can manage. I hope I splash the fuck out of him.
But when I pop to the surface, I’m dismayed to discover that not only did I fail to splash him, he’s moved closer. Towering over me, a wall of dripping, muscled alpha male deliciousness.
“Got you,” he says in a voice that makes my pussy clench.
And then his hands are clamped on my waist, possessive and sure, and he pulls me into his chest. My nipples graze his slick skin, and when he picks me up effortlessly in the water, I cling to him instinctively.
His blue eyes burn into mine. “Right where I want you.”
I try to push at him, annoyed with myself for falling into his trap, but he’s stronger than I am, and I can’t get away.
“Let me go, gangster.”
“Not a chance. I like you here way too much.”
I splash him in the face.
He growls and then spins us in the water in one swift move, pinning me between his powerful body and the edge of the pool. He plants his hands on either side of me, caging me in. Water runs in rivulets down his chiseled cheekbones, over the stubble on his killer jaw.
“You shouldn’t have splashed me, amore mio .”
He’s crowding me with his heat, and he’s even more irresistible at this proximity.
I do my best not to let him see the effect he has on me, brazening it out.
“No?”
He shakes his head slowly, his gaze falling to my lips. “No.”
“Why not?”
He gives me a slow, devasting grin. “Because now I’m going to have to get even with you.”