17. Claudia

Chapter 17

Claudia

H e doesn't have to hold me while I cry. There's no rule we made, no deal we struck. He doesn't have to wipe my tears away when I start to calm down, and he doesn't have to kiss my hair and whisper gentle soothing words while he rubs my back, and he doesn't have to pour us both a drink when I'm finally back to myself.

"You don't have to talk about it, but tell me this. Are you okay? Did anyone hurt you?"

I shake my head and take a sip of wine. It's the cheap stuff, which is the best I can afford. He doesn't seem to mind as he takes a long drink.

"Just Serena." I think about telling him more, telling him about Rodney, but I don't. I can't bring myself to say it, and what she confessed isn't for him anyway. That was for me, and I'll have to find a way to live with it. Or maybe I'll find a way to kill that scumbag. A girl can dream.

I curl up next to him on the couch and brush against his left arm. He grimaces and adjusts it, keeping it away from me, and I finally notice that he's been favoring his right side this whole time.

"I'm fine," he says when he notices me looking. "Just a scratch."

"Must be a bad scratch the way you keep grimacing every time you move it."

"I took care of it already." He's close to me. I like the way he smells and the way he talks and the way he stares at me like he can't look anywhere else. I like it too much.

"You weren't at the club tonight. I was looking for you."

"Needed to stay away for a little while." His smile is tense and he tilts his head.

"You came to my apartment instead? You can't just let yourself in, by the way."

"I like it in here. Smells like you."

I roll my eyes. "Obviously." And now I'm smiling. "But you still can't break in here."

"I'll keep your opinion in mind."

"It's not an opinion, it's—" But I stop myself. He doesn't care. "At least text first, okay? Can you do that?"

"I'll text," he agrees. And hey, that's progress.

"How long were you waiting for me?"

"Not too long. I wanted to talk to you about the job, but—" He hesitates, which surprises me. He doesn't want to discuss business after I just had a big emotional meltdown.

"Let's talk," I say and this is exactly what I need. A mission to keep my mind off what Serena said. This job I'm doing with him, it has an end game, it has a purpose, and if I can get her away and help her sober up, maybe we can work on her issues, or at least I can get her into therapy and rehab and all that stuff, and kick her life back onto a better track.

He takes a deep breath and blows it out, clearly reluctant, but he talks anyway. "I need you to find out if Tommy's been in touch with a guy named Vito, a guy named Roc, or anyone with a Serbian name."

My eyebrows raise. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"You're smart. Be creative."

"He doesn't exactly leave his date book out."

"Date book?" He laughs and touches my hair with his injured hand. "How old are you again?"

"You know what I mean." I blush, smiling back. "But fine, I'll see what I can do. No promises."

"Do it soon if you can. Sooner the better."

"Does this have anything to do with that messed-up arm of yours?"

"Yes." His smile fades and he doesn't elaborate.

I put my hand on his thigh. He shifts closer, and my heart does one of those spasms before falling into a rhythm again. "Can you do something for me in return?"

"If you're inviting me into your bed, I'll do that for free."

I swat lightly at his leg. "No, you arrogant dick. There's this girl at Cage, her name's Kayla. Can you get her fired?"

He considers for a beat, and I feel so stinking guilty and petty, right up until he nods. "Tommy's technically still running the place, but I'm also technically still his boss. It's complicated, but I'm pretty sure I can make that happen. What did she do to you?"

"She just sucks, that's all." I don't want to tell him too much. Angelo scares me, and I'm worried he'll go too far with her. "I just want her gone, that's all."

"I'll make it happen."

The negotiation is over. Our business is concluded. I finish my wine, and he does the same, but we don't move. My hand remains on his thigh, and his fingers still twirl through my hair, and it's strangely intimate. I barely know him, but for the first time in my life, I feel totally at ease, like we've been sleeping in the same bed together for a decade and we know everything there is to know about each other's bodies.

"Do you ever worry about all this?" I ask him, my fingers stroking along his leg. "Do you worry the revenge stuff is going to make you bitter?"

"Not at all. I'm already bitter. I spent five years in prison, and Tommy's a part of that."

I chew my lip. "I'm surprised. I mean, you're a Bianco, right? Couldn't you just, like, buy your way out of trouble?"

He leans and moves closer. "I did, actually. I could've gone down for much longer."

"Five years is a while."

"Beats life for murder."

My mouth opens. He's smirking at my reaction like he thinks it's cute. "You killed people?"

"More than a few, baby." He leans closer and his mouth is inches from mine. "Still want to work together?"

Yes. No. Definitely. I can't think straight with him looking at me like he's going to kiss me.

"Only if you do all that killing for a good cause."

"I'm not sure revenge is normally considered good ."

"If it means I get Serena away from Tommy, I'll say it evens out."

"Then that's a deal. I'll never put you in danger, baby." His eyes go serious, a storm cloud brewing. "You are not bait ."

He spits out that last word and I don't know what the hell he's talking about. I start to ask him what he means, but then his mouth presses against my neck, my chin, and moves up to my lips.

It's gentle at first. Barely a brush, but it sends a wild cascade of tingles down my spine. I shimmy, closing down any distance between us, and I push my mouth to his, then my lips are open and his tongue is on my tongue, and we're kissing like we've been thinking about nothing but kissing each other for the last day.

And in my case, that's true.

The man's mouth does things to me. It breaks me and rebuilds me, it makes me want in a way I didn't know I could want. There's a drive behind his kiss, a force that draws me closer, a drag on every drop of my blood.

It pushes me until I'm straddling him again, just like back in room 33, but there are no cameras and we're not acting, and his hands push up my crop top, then remove my bralette and his mouth finds a nipple, sucking one perky pink bud, and I'm moaning as he kisses me and teases my breasts again.

"I don't want you to stop," I whisper, back arching, and I swear that does something to him. If there was hesitation in the way he touched me moments earlier, that evaporates, and he suddenly stands, gritting his teeth as he turns and shoves me back down to the couch, dropping to his knees in front of me.

I kiss him hard as he tugs off my jeans. I'm still in my work clothes underneath, but the itty-bitty shorts come off, too, and his mouth licks and sucks my inner thighs, and when I try to squeeze my knees shut, he shoves them wide again.

"I've been holding back," he growls as his fingers tease my pussy, and my heart's going wild as my fingers dig into his hair, and I gasp, head back. He fills me and I'm wet, so freaking wet it's unbelievable. I can't imagine how I'm here, how he's between my legs right now, but I don't want to wake up if this is some kind of dream.

"Are you letting loose now?"

"I'm debating it," he says and his mouth licks me, tongue gliding up and down my clit. "Fuck, Claudia. You taste incredible. You know how badly I've been wanting this? Since the moment I met you, I've been thinking about your legs wrapped around my neck as I devour your messy little pussy."

"Oh my god," I moan, blinking at his filthy mouth. His talented, incredible, very dirty mouth. "Don't guys usually imagine, like, sex and blowjobs and whatever?"

"Not me," he purrs, fingers gliding in and out, driving me insane. "You know what gets me fucking hard? Watching you break."

And now I'm in heaven.

He goes at me. Fingers deep inside, mouth and lips doing their dance, sucking and driving my clit insane. I'm holding on for dear life and making absolutely brainless whimpers and there's nothing left in me but pleasure as his words echo in my brain. Break, break, break . God, let him crack me in half, if it'll only feel half this good.

"Come on, baby," he coaxes, fingers fucking me, two of them nice and thick and filling. "I want to taste it when you lose your mind. I want to taste you when you shatter on my fucking tongue."

I'm done, I'm finished, I'm beyond all rational control, and when his tongue grazes my clit in glorious, back-breaking circles, I give him what he wants. I give him what I need. I come, vision tunneling, muscles trembling, like an explosion breaks in my core and every new stroke is utter ecstasy, until I can't take it anymore.

He leans back as I sit there panting. I blink and try to focus. He's looking at me like I'm a painting hanging on a gallery wall, like he's having a religious moment or a spiritual experience. His hands stay on my knees, and I cover his hands with my own, and if it hurts his injured arm, he doesn't show it.

"Wow," I manage to say, which isn't the most eloquent post-orgasm comment.

But his smile gets bigger. "You liked that." Not a question. Not bragging. Just a statement of fact.

"Yes, Angelo, I really, really liked that."

"Then baby, you are really, really a good girl." He leans forward and kisses me.

And fuck, I smother his mouth, because I love being his good girl, especially if it means coming like that.

It doesn't last forever. The glow, the intimacy. Eventually, I emerge from my little orgasm-cave and see the light of the world again. I get dressed and he watches me, and I fuss around the kitchen feeling awkward and a little embarrassed, because I haven't gotten off like that with a man before—well, ever.

"Tomorrow," he says, stopping me as I try to start loading our wine glasses into the dish washer.

"What about it?"

"I'll see you tomorrow at Cage. You're working."

I think about Kayla and Serena in the bathroom. "Yeah, I'm working."

"Good." He leans in and kisses me. "I won't do that again if you don't want me to. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"No, I mean, it's okay." I take a deep breath and let it out. A mafia guy making sure things are good after getting me off? This must be a first. "It's been an emotionally taxing evening and I'm out of practice."

"Then we'll call it a night." Another kiss. How can a man this big, this scary, be so damn gentle? "But I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, you will." One last kiss. Do I want him to stay over? I'm not even sure what that would be like, and I don't get the chance to find out. He walks to my front door and steps into the hall.

Then he's gone. I'm alone again with a wildly satisfying ache between my legs and the lingering ghost of his kiss on my lips.

And the memory of Serena's words in the bathroom seared onto my brain.