Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“No, baby. It’s not just about sex for me.” His two hot hands roam under my shirt to stroke up and down my back. “But I’m okay if that’s all it is for you.”
His words shock me from the inside out. Something about the cocksure guy being willing to settle for whatever bone I throw him weakens my defenses. Not that I should believe anything he says.
“I don’t usually do this.” I open my thighs wider to allow his searching fingers access. My knees buckle when his fingers find my swollen sex and expertly spread my moisture over the whole of my plump folds.
“I know.” He loops one arm around my waist, holding me up as his other hand coaxes a soft moan out of me.
“What,” I gasp, “do you know?”
“You’re a good girl. You don’t want anything to do with a bad boy like me. Except bad boys can be exciting...don’t you think?”
I orgasm against his hand, my hips bucking as I lose my footing and fall completely back over his arm.
“That’s it, Sophie.” His fingers continue to slide in and out of my sex, then over my clit as the spasm rockets through me.
When the climax ends, I sag against him, wanting to simultaneously laugh and weep. I should find my own feet and hold my own weight, but it feels so good to be suspended, arching wantonly over his arm. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so sexy or desirable. And he was right—it was totally worth it.
I straighten at last. “Whew!” I meet his gaze a little sheepishly. “I suppose I owe you now?”
He gives me his slow, predatory smile and wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “I’ll wait until our third date.”
Dear God, this man’s confidence makes me go weak. New prickles of desire sweep upward from my center core to my throat.
“Saturday.”
I start to nod helplessly then remember my date with Bruce. “I can’t—I have plans, with, uh…” I don’t want to bring Bruce into it. “—my friends. How about Sunday? I’ll make you dinner.”
He grins, clearly pleased with that idea. “I’d love that.” He brushes his lips across mine, kissing lightly as his thumb traces over my cheekbone like I’m precious to him.
Disconcerted with my reaction to it, I pull away, flushing. “Next Sunday, then.”
He smiles as if he knows exactly why I turned skittish. “What time? Five o’clock?”
“Sure.” I walk toward the door.
He trails me to it. “Good night, bella.”
“Good night. Thanks for tonight. I mean, the musical. And the other thing. Yeah. Thanks!” Dear God. I need to get a grip.
He looks over his shoulder as he walks out and winks, and eggs drop from both my ovaries.
Damn. I’m in big trouble. Joey LaTorre is way too charming.
And I’m way too susceptible to his charm.
Hot sex is one thing, but I can’t get into a serious relationship with him. I’ll explain that clearly on Sunday. When his hands aren’t on my skin. His scent isn’t surrounding me. Before he makes my body hum and my throat hoarse from begging.
Chapter Six
Joey
Saturday night, I leave Swank early. I can’t stop thinking about Sophie. The way she looked when she came all over my fingers last week.
How much I’m looking forward to her making me dinner tomorrow night.
There’s something about the offer that makes me feel like she’s a keeper. Everything about Sophie has felt like home since the moment I stepped into her massage studio. She’s the perfect combination of familiar and foreign.
It’s hard to get serious with a woman when you’re a Made Man. You have to consider what you’re bringing her into. That the commitment has to be for a lifetime because there’s no way out of this lifestyle except for in a box.
You marry a woman, and she becomes a party to all our crimes. You protect her from it all, of course, but she’ll find things out. She’ll know.
So there are no break ups. No divorce. You can’t have a situation where a disgruntled ex goes to the Feds. Either you keep her and make sure she stays happy or…. I don’t even want to voice the alternative.
In the end, that was what made me break things off with Amelia. I wasn’t sure if she was really “the one.” I don’t know why I even proposed in the first place. I guess because I’m at the age where I should settle down and start a family–according to my ma, anyway. I didn’t want to marry a woman I might change my mind about in the future because there is no changing your mind in this business.
But Sophie’s already in the family. She grew up in the culture. She knows what it involves. That doesn’t mean she’s willing to go back to it, but for some reason, it makes her seem like a better choice.