Chapter 12 #2
The cabin was dark now, the only sound in the silence that of the engines. After another hour of hanging out, Trevor took Natalia to the bedroom in the back of the jet so she could rest. In turn, everyone else reclined their seats and got more comfortable too.
Maria’s head was on Zach’s chest, her palm resting protectively over his heart, while his arm was around her waist, holding her close – both long asleep.
Zane was asleep too, leaned back with the hood of his jacket covering his eyes, and Kali – his most prized possession – at his side, her head resting against his shoulder.
They might’ve been able to hide their little romance from everyone else, but I was too grown to not pick up on these things.
I’d known ever since I saw the way he looked at her at Python, his underground gym and secret fight club Midtown.
The position was nothing other than objectively friendly, but I didn’t miss the jacket that had fallen slightly form their lap, which had previously hidden their hands – intertwined – underneath.
The bodyguard and his best friend’s little sister… Good luck to them.
Gìo had been on his laptop, handling business as usual, but after we hit four hours in the air, he did himself a favor and shut it off.
I wondered if he would actually take two much needed weeks off in Hawaii.
He was now still sitting up technically, though his head was leaned back into the headrest, deep in sleep too.
The only one still awake was Tony. He never slept.
I didn’t know how he still had the strength he had without the proper rest. But hey, no one knew how he had such a high tolerance to substances either.
He was on the other end of the plane, across his brother, his back turned to everyone else, only a soft light coming from his phone.
He was good now, though he’d gave everyone a scare earlier in December when he got grazed by a bullet at a Cosa Nostra event.
I’d heard the attacker – now dead – had aimed for Kimberley Moretti, Natalia’s half-sister, but Tony pulled her behind him.
My eyes found Francesca again.
The way she was so calm, so warm, so trusting despite her usual distant personality – other than when she was around me, of course…
I’d spent the last two months on my yacht in Miami, in the middle of the ocean, alone.
Practicing something I would’ve laughed at before this autumn.
Abstinence. Four goddamn months since I’d had sex.
Four goddamn months since I’d met a certain blonde Italian woman with daggers for eyes that got me harder than a brick.
I refused to jerk off to her like one of the desperate losers I caught drooling over her – until they saw me death glaring and got the message, never once even peeking at Francesca again.
So, I’d been walking around with a hard-on for months – other than when I tried to think or look at another woman, of course.
Suddenly, I couldn’t get it up to save my life.
I’d laughed about the Donna maybe doing brujeria on me back in September.
But now, three painful months later, she was seriously starting to fuck with my head.
I couldn’t fuck her.
But I couldn’t get her out of my head either.
And maybe she couldn’t get me out of her head either. She certainly had no problem with me touching her when it benefited her. So maybe, if she had no problem with my touch when it serviced her – like now, using my body heat to keep warm – maybe she’d use me for something else too…
Like letting me service that pussy I knew was wet for me.
I ran my tongue over my teeth, wondering what she tasted like while using my other hand to readjust my dick in my pants and hide my erection. I’d gotten so used to it by now, it barely even bothered me anymore. It was fucking pathetic, but I couldn’t even bring myself to care.
All I could think about was the woman leaning into my touch.
I felt my chest constrict.
The last time I’d had someone fall asleep on me was eighteen years ago, in the cold night desert.
The memory burned in the backs of my eyes, though not hotter than the liquid fire I’d felt pumping through my veins for the last couple of hours.
My pulse picked up, realizing I’d dropped my guard around this woman for no reason other than that she made me feel…
I searched for the right word, but came up empty. She’d made me feel.
No one had gotten that close to me in almost two decades.
People didn’t relax around me. They straightened their backs.
I was Diablo.
People didn’t like me. They feared me.
They didn’t fall asleep around me – let alone on me.
I imperceptibly pulled my arm from underneath Francesca, allowing her head to fall back against the couch pillows, and made my way over to the jet’s bathroom, suddenly feeling a chill in the air.
When the door locked behind me, it acted as a vacuum, blocking out all sounds outside of the bathroom. I splashed water over my face, rubbing my eyes to wake up. But I always felt the reminders of who I was every time my shirt brushed against the muscles of my back.
My arm throbbed, the blood pumping back through my veins along with the pins and needles after finally moving it after hours.
I should’ve felt better. But as the blood flowed back through my body, so did the reminder of what Francesca felt like against me.
I exhaled hard, shacking my head at myself in the mirror.
That girl is poison.