Chapter Fifteen
Milo
The kiss was pure heat.
And I couldn’t help but reach for the flames, the danger, the promise at the other end of it.
Milo’s hand crushed the back of my neck, the touch at once possessive and desperate. The combination was like lighter fluid to the fire already burning through me.
My hips rocked.
Once. Twice.
Milo’s groan vibrated against my lips as his hips bucked up against the friction.
I knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
Not this time.
I wanted more.
I wanted everything.
I wanted him.
More than I wanted my next breath.
It was terrifying and exhilarating in equal turns.
His hands slid down my back, sank into my ass, then pulled my skirt up and over it.
Then his fingers teased across my skin to grab the waistband of my underwear, dragging them down until I automatically lifted each knee to free the material.
I had no idea what his intentions were until he broke the kiss, until he was pulling at my hips until I had no choice but to lift up.
Losing the press of him had a soft cry escaping me.
But there was a dark promise in Milo’s eyes that sent a shiver thundering down my spine.
His hands just kept pulling.
Then one slid down my thigh to grab me under one knee. Pushing. Spreading. Opening me up.
When he pressed it back and up, my knee hitting the back cushion, I knew exactly what he had in mind.
But I didn’t even have time to draw in a steadying breath before his head ducked and he was right there.
My breath stuttered out of me.
Lightning shocked my system at the glide of his tongue that was so needed it almost hurt. My hands grabbed the back of his head, holding him against me as he circled around my clit.
His one hand splayed across my ass cheek, fingers curling into the soft flesh, like he knew he needed to hold onto me just before his tongue finally made contact with where I needed it most.
My thighs shook hard enough that I thought I might fall over the back of the couch.
But the shock of sensation gave way to a steadily building pressure that let me stabilize my stance even as flames licked through every inch of me.
Milo’s hand slipped between us, two fingers sliding inside me. A long, low moan escaped me at the stretch, at the fullness that hinted at what I wanted but didn’t quite deliver.
But then he was thrusting, turning, stroking, engaging my G-spot even as his tongue kept the slow, measured pace on my clit.
My chest felt tight; my heartbeat was too fast.
That coil tightened in my core.
A strangled cry escaped me as he pushed me to that precipice.
But then he groaned against me, like my pleasure was ending him as well.
And that was what I needed.
The pleasure tore through me. Hot, bright, searing.
My cries rolled through the suite as the pleasure flicked higher and higher before slowly becoming embers.
My thighs wobbled, and I slipped, falling back down half on Milo and half at his side.
My hand had landed high on his thigh.
Then, when our gazes met, I let it drift upward.
His breath caught as I traced the rigid line of him through his pants, the thin material leaving very little to the imagination.
My palm circled the tip of him, making his hips jerk upward and a quiet curse slip from between his lips.
Emboldened by his reaction (and possibly motivated by my own curiosity) my hand moved upward, slid under his waistband, and freed his hard length.
A shudder rocked his body as my hand closed around him and stroked.
His gaze was molten on mine, and I became immediately obsessed with the way his eyes went half-closed as my hand slid, then closed completely when I traced my thumb over the tip of him.
My own desire roared back to life just from watching the way need and pleasure danced across his handsome face.
I stroked him for another moment or two as my core ached, as I became painfully aware of the emptiness inside me.
I wasn’t thinking clearly as I moved over him again, straddled his waist, held him at the base and lowered down.
My heated gaze was on his as I pressed against him, as I felt the thick tip of him nudge me open.
We both tensed, gasped.
Then the sound of the phone ringing had us both jolting hard. Me, enough to fall off to his side, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“The food,” Milo explained, voice breathless.
I was about to say screw the food, to climb back on his lap and finish what we started.
But just then, there was a hard rap at the room door.
“Yo, someone had food in the parking lot for you,” a man called through the door.
“Shit,” Milo cursed under his breath as he grabbed his erection and tucked it behind the waistband of his pants. “That’s my cousin,” he explained, snatching my panties off the floor and shoving them into his pocket.
A mix of panic and embarrassment flooded me as I yanked my skirt back into place before checking my bodice.
“I have to let him in,” he said as I gave him a tight nod. Then, to the door, he called, “Coming. One sec.”
He took a slow, deep breath, trying to find some facsimile of self-control.
As for me, I lunged for my purse and yanked my sweats on under my dress, feeling way too exposed without my panties.
By the time Milo made it to the door, I’d deposited myself down on one of the chairs, flattened my hair, and wiped under my eyes in case I had any mascara smudged.
It was the best I could do in ten seconds and without a mirror.
Milo slid the lock before pulling open the door.
Then there was his cousin.
Apparently, the whole family had good genes.
Whoever this guy was, he was tall and fit in a slightly bulkier way than Milo was. He had a wide, strong jaw, unreadable eyes, and an aura that not too subtly told you to keep your distance.
“Mexican and Chinese. The asshole at the desk wouldn’t let me grab the Italian for you.”
“Thanks, Dom.”
“I tipped ‘em good. Why did you order so—oh,” he said, his gaze landing on me.
“Roe, this is my cousin, Domenico. Dom, this is Monroe Langston.”
I watched Dom’s gaze move from Milo, to me, and back again. And I didn’t miss the way his brow raised.
“I’ll fill you in once I get the food. Is it okay if Dom waits with you for a minute?” Milo asked.
“Sure,” I agreed, even if my belly felt a little wobbly.
“I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
With that, he grabbed his wallet and was gone.
Then his cousin and I were alone.
The silence stretched long and uncomfortable as he just stood there for a moment, rocking back on his heels, his hands tucked in his front pockets.
“So, you’re our spy.”
“So, you’re the Grassi guy who got out of prison not long ago.”
There had been several articles about his arrest and one post from a small-time mafia aficionado online who posted about his release.
To that, Dom’s lips tipped ever so slightly up. No one could call it a smile. But maybe just a sign of him not planning on murdering me. I hoped.
“That’d be me,” he agreed, nodding.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Maybe.”
“Is Famiglia as good as Milo claims, or is he just partial?”
To that, Domenico moved into the living room and dropped down on the couch.
I tried hard not to think about how Milo had been in that exact spot a few moments before, wearing me like a necklace.
“Wondered that myself. Grew up on the food, so I thought maybe it was just my taste buds. But prison fucked up my taste pretty good. And when I came back out and ate through every restaurant in a twenty-mile radius, it is still at the top for Italian. He told you about it?”
“At our first meeting, he mentioned a family Italian restaurant. When I learned your last name, I… came across it.”
“Fucking women,” he said, this time giving me a grin, “you all need to be running the CIA and shit.”
“To be fair, sometimes our safety relies on us being able to thoroughly investigate potential dates or boyfriends. Or… espionage partners,” I added when I panicked that he might have thought I was referring to Milo as one of those things.
I didn’t know anything about the rules in their organization or on this job, but I didn’t want to get Milo into trouble. He’d been nothing but good to me.
Before either of us could say anything else, though, the door lock bleeped. Then there was Milo again. Looking a little worried. Like he’d been really uncomfortable leaving the two of us alone together.
“Lucked out that the diner food showed up when I was grabbing the Italian,” he said, seeming to force a casualness in his tone that was belied by the tension in his shoulders.
“Why so much food?” Dom asked, looking like he had no plans on leaving.
“That’s my fault,” I admitted, taking the soda Milo passed me. “I admitted that my apartment has no way to cook. And that I missed hot food. Milo took it from there.”
“We got a ton if you didn’t eat yet.”
“Had another fucking liquid dinner,” Dom admitted, grimacing. “Gonna have to get hazard pay for what this job is doing to my liver.”
“There’s a great spa in town with a sauna,” I offered, seeing the warm look Milo shot me out of the corner of my eye. “Sweat out some of those toxins.”
“Sitting naked in a room without a beautiful woman to join me sounds like a waste of time to me,” Dom said as he walked over to the mini fridge and came back with a bottle of water since we hadn’t expected him and didn’t get him a drink.
“Here,” I said, digging around in my overstuffed purse to produce a plastic bag with several electrolyte packets. “There are a bunch of flavors. Pick one. You need to rehydrate.”
“Thanks, babe,” he said, giving me a curious look. “Am I allowed to ask what’s going on yet?” he asked as Milo set out all the food and utensils.
“I was checking out Frank’s office.”
“Yeah?” Dom asked, shoveling a pile of lo mein onto the top of a clamshell from the Mexican place to use as a plate. “Went bad?”
“Sort of. I was caught.”
“Frank?”
“No.”
“His goons?”
“No. Um, the pit boss.”
Dom’s head snapped up.
“The pit boss? With the hair?”
“God, she really does have great hair,” I agreed. “But, yeah, her.”