Chapter Six

They never did get a room. It was one thing after another with people speaking to them, then the charity auction and raffle.

Finally, it was late enough that they could simply make their excuses and go—several thousand dollars poorer.

They’d taken a cab here and that turned out to be smart since the roads were now deserted, all ice and slush, and neither wanted to drive home through the city on this after a few drinks. Sal could have called one of his capos or soldiers, but they belonged at home with their families or girlfriends tonight.

At least it had stopped snowing.

In overcoats, scarves, and gloves, they started trudging home through a few inches of sidewalk snow that was already compressed and turning icy from other feet. The safest bits were where it remained fresh, but it was hard to focus on those after … how many drinks? Plus they had to stop often since they could finally get back to the business of kissing and reminding one another that they would pick up where they’d left off after the basement.

Jack tried repeatedly to book an Uber, but there were so few cars running tonight that there were long waits. In the end, they walked all the way, forty-five minutes of snow and ice, warming one another’s cold noses and chins with kisses, holding hands to keep their balance on the ice.

They’d just reached Sal’s building, mouths once more seeking contact, warming, exhilarated, promising more with every touch, every taste, every spark that passed between lips and tongues, when Sal’s phone rang.

He ignored it, fumbling his key fob against the door panel, his tongue between Jack’s teeth, Jack’s hand cupping his balls through his slacks, overcoat unbuttoned.

It finished its fourth ring by the time he had Jack pushed against the elevator door, waiting for it to open, grinding into Jack’s hand. His breaths caught as he began to wonder if he could make it to undressing, much less bed.

The elevator door chimed, Jack shoved him back so they didn’t topple in when the doors slid open.

The phone rang again.

“Fucking bastards.”

Sal stumbled back, yanked the phone from his pocket and jerked it to his ear. “What?”

Jack leaned into the elevator doorway, holding it while he waited, his breaths coming hard and fast, cheeks flushed.

“He’s where?”

Slowly, Jack’s expression changed as he watched Sal’s face, then he reached out a hand to rest on Sal’s shoulder, as if to steady them both.