Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
I raised my head and looked into his eyes. I hadn’t been sure of their color until now, but in this light I saw they were pearl gray, edged in charcoal. His brows knit with concern, and he caressed my cheek as he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” My voice sounded rough. Had I been yelling? “That was just overwhelming. I’m not used to sex being that—”
“Intense.”
“Exactly.” Then he kissed me, and it was so tender that it made my heart do some kind of odd little flip-flop.
After we rested for a while, Marcus cleared his throat and said, “We should get cleaned up. Do you need a hand?”
“No thanks, I’ve got it.” To prove I could fend for myself, I climbed off his lap and stood up. I had to steady myself by leaning against the edge of the vanity, but at least my legs didn’t buckle. Because I felt like I’d just run a marathon, I asked, “Can we stay in tonight and order room service? I don’t really feel like going anywhere.”
Marcus got up too, gathering his clothes as he mumbled, “Sure. Anything you want. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
When he paused to look at me, there was wonder in his eyes. There was no other word for it. I grinned at him, and he flashed me a quick, self-conscious smile before hurrying out of the bathroom.
I watched him go, and once he was out of earshot, I whispered, “Wow.”
6
Marcus
I rushed back to my suite naked, with my clothes and shoes in my arms. When I reached the main bedroom, I came to an abrupt stop and looked around. Everything felt off-kilter. It was as if the entire world had shifted over the last hour, and now nothing would ever be the same.
I didn’t understand what had just happened. Sex was never like that. It was just a way to feel good and blow off some steam. But that—that had been something brand new.
And Romy…my god, Romy. He was sweet and achingly beautiful and an absolute wonder. I never knew men like him actually existed.
He scared the shit out of me.
I’d spent my whole life building nice, big, solid walls around myself. They were there for a reason, damn it. But he’d walked right through them, as if they were made of wet tissue paper.
He was going to be the death of me—probably literally, because I already knew I wouldn’t be willing to walk away from him at the end of this trip. That meant his brother or one of his other gangster relatives were going to find out about us, shoot me, and bury me in the desert.
That alone should have been enough to keep me away from Romy, but it made no difference.
Also, how the hell was I supposed to tell him I was Mario Greco, after what we’d just shared? Not that I’d had any idea sex with him was going to be so life-altering.
And now, the only way for this to end was in a huge disaster. It wasn’t just that he was going to be furious and hate me when he found out the truth. It was going to hurt him, which was the very last thing I wanted. Fuck, I already hated myself enough for both of us.
Just then, my phone beeped. I had to dig through the bundle of clothes in my arms to find it. The message was from a man who’d been a part of my Vegas crew, until I’d fired all of them a couple months ago. They’d had it coming, after going totally overboard while I was out of town and taking the shit with Adriano Dombruso way too far.
The message said: A couple associates of Artie the Greek are looking for you. Guess they heard you got ahold of Artie’s assets, and they want a piece of the pie. This isn’t a heads-up— you’re a prick and can rot in hell, but I told them I’d get the message to you. I hope they find you and kill you.
Why the hell was that guy so pissed off? I’d hired him and the rest of the crew to do a job—to have my back and complete the tasks I assigned to them, in exchange for a very lucrative salary. When they proved to be a bunch of loose cannons by doing shit like smashing up the bar Romy’s mom owned, we parted ways. End of story. I didn’t owe them anything, so what the fuck was he so mad about?
Not that it should matter, except that he was dangerous and unpredictable, and I wouldn’t put it past him or the rest of my former crew to decide to come after me. Like I needed more enemies.
That shit about Art’s associates trying to track me down—and getting damn close, since they were speaking to my former employees—was bad news, too. Before this, they’d stuck to the east coast and had seemed unaware of my ties to Vegas. That had obviously changed.