Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Saylor

He was good company, damnit.

My mother was going to get a kick out of that when she wrangled that tidbit out of me sometime in the near future.

I could practically hear her now.

Gorgeous and fun to be around? Why are you fighting this again?

I was, too. Fighting it.

Because this was about work.

Because, as much as I hated to admit it, I really needed his help to get my stash of weapons back. And I couldn't be letting my damn hormones get in the way of that.

At least not yet.

If I wanted to take that man for a ride or two after this was all done, then so be it.

"So, the Morellis are, what?" I asked as we sat in the Italian restaurant he'd insisted on because he turned up his nose at street food. Which I'd suggested purely because sitting across a table from him felt a lot like a date, further blurring that line I was trying to walk.

"An organized crime Family," he said, brows pinched as he glanced at me over his menu.

"No, I know that. I meant… what are they into? What do they do?"

"Oh, well, if you ask them, they will tell you that they're brick layers," he said, lips tipped up in that too freaking sexy way.

"Heroin or cocaine?" I asked, making that little tip of his lips turn into an actual smirk.

"Cocaine," he said.

"On Staten Island?" I asked. "Shouldn't that be more of a Manhattan thing? Financial District has the biggest population of cocaine users. I mean, they're the only ones who can afford it," I said as my gaze scanned over about ten different meals I wanted. I was never good at just picking one thing. I always wanted a little bit of everything.

"Get whatever you want," Anthony said as if reading my mind. "And they do sometimes deal in the Financial District. We're allies, so we don't really care. But they've got their hands in just about everything on the Island."

"And they'll just offer it up, no questions asked?"

"Guess that depends on who I reach out to," he admitted.

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning there are a bunch of Morelli brothers. Some might be more likely to give us information than others without feeling the need to drag Lorenzo into this. Ciro is kind of the rule-follower, so I won't reach out to him. That leaves Gio and Elio. Both will just assume Lorenzo knows everything that's going on."

"So, do you just call and ask for a meeting?" I asked.

"Figure we shouldn't just show up at the deli."

"Deli?" I asked, lips twitching.

"Yeah, they own a deli."

"That is almost as funny as them owning a pizza place." To that, a smile tugged at his lips. "Does your Family own a pizza joint?"

"Not mine. But a Family we know in Jersey. In Navesink Bank."

"Wait. No way. I might have eaten there," I admitted. "I totally thought that the guy behind the register in a suit looked a little bit like a mobster, but I figured my imagination had run away with me."

"You probably met Lucky Grassi," Anthony told me, shrugging.

"A mob pizza joint, a mafia deli… I feel like this has potential to be a bus trip for tourists," I said.

"If the tourists only knew what was going on right under their noses…" Anthony said, placing his menu down as I still hemmed and hawed three dishes.

Anthony bought me some time to think, though, by ordering three appetizers.

Within half an hour, I had shoved fried mozzarella, bruschetta, and caprese salad in my mouth and was steadily plowing through chicken parm, gnocchi, and carbonara while Anthony ate baked ziti and bet me that I wouldn't even finish half my food.

Which, of course, meant I had to practically lick the plates, even if the button on my jeans was starting to dig into my skin.

"I take it back," he said as I exhaled hard, trying to convince myself to eat the last bit of chicken on one of my plates. He reached across the table, stabbing it with his fork, and bringing it to his mouth.

Did I need anything to bring attention to his lips? No, no I did not. And did I watch as the fork went in, came back out, and he started to chew? Yep. I did that.

"I can finish it," I insisted when he reached out again, ready to swirl up the tiny little circle of pasta I had left.

"I'm sure you can, but you're starting to look green, and you made your point," he said, starting to twirl it.

"Jesus," I said, shoving his arm to the side, watching confusion etch on his gorgeous face. "You had your sleeve over the candle," I told him, gesturing toward it. "I'm pretty sure your Family wouldn't love it if you got set on fire while out with me."

"Good catch," he said, sighing a little as he brought the pasta to his mouth. I probably should have been focusing more on the way he seemed defeated about his seemingly endless accidents and near-misses. But a bit of carbonara sauce was on his lower lip. And his fucking tongue slid out to lick it away. Which obviously stole all of my focus.

"So, ah, what time tomorrow?" I asked, shifting in my chair, hoping it came off as restless and not horny.

Anthony reached for his phone, shooting off a text as the server removed our plates.

"Do you want dessert?" he asked, smirking as I placed a hand on my too-full belly.

"Yes. But I want gummy worms. And I want them in bed."

Did his eyes flash at the mention of my bed? Or was that just wishful thinking on my part?

With that, he passed the server his card, and this time, I didn't even argue with him about it.

He was slipping a hefty tip into the checkbook when his phone buzzed on the table.

"How about ten tomorrow?" he asked, reading a message from, I assumed, one of the Morelli brothers.

"That works for me," I agreed.

"Do you want me to pick you up at home, or at the warehouse?"

"Warehouse. I want to take the dog on a long walk if we're going to be gone for a while."

"Do you want to drive or take the ferry?" he asked, waiting for me to slide out of my seat and move in front of him before following me to the door.

Fine.

I kind of thought his good manners were hot.

But probably only because they were so uncommon.

It was like finding a foreign accent attractive.

It was nothing personal.

Or, at least, that was what I told myself as his arm extended over my head to open the door for me. Then as he moved behind me to walk on the street side.

"I've never taken the ferry," I admitted.

"Then let's do that. It's half the time," he told me. "You can get back to your poor, unnamed dog sooner."

I was actually starting to feel really bad about the no name thing. I'd tried out a few names before walking her that morning. But nothing felt quite right.

As much as I hated to admit it, it seemed like Keith was right about needing to know her before picking a name for her.

"Oh, wait," I said, turning back and nearly bumping into him.

"What's up?"

"Does the ferry have a metal detector?" I asked. Because, well, that was a deal-breaker for me. As much as I was starting to trust Anthony, I didn't know these Morelli guys, and I wasn't going to be caught around a bunch of mobsters without at least one weapon on me.

"No," he said, the tug of his lips telling me he knew exactly what I was thinking. "You might occasionally see a bomb-sniffing dog, but that's about it."

"Okay. Good. We can do that then. Well, I guess we can go our separate ways from here," I said, ignoring the way disappointment surged through me even as I said it.

Clearly, I needed to go home, stick some new batteries in my vibrator, and go a few rounds before I was alone with this guy again.

"Yeah, we can… shit," he said, going to pat his chest like he was looking for something, but there was no pocket there. "My jacket," he said.

"What jacket?"

"I had one on when I came to the gym," he said. "Your mom took it, and I forgot to get it back. I'd leave it, but my apartment key is in the breast pocket."

"Oh," I said, reaching for my phone to check the time.

"Is it closed?" he asked.

"Yeah. She closes early on Mondays. But I have a key," I told him. "Come on," I said, turning and starting to walk back to the subway.

The gym was open seven days a week, but my mom closed early two nights a week, so she could have something resembling down time.

"Do you work out after hours?" Anthony said as I unlocked the security gate, then hit the button to lift it.

"No. I still have a key mostly because I used to work here for years," I told him.

"Really? So arms dealing wasn't always your career path?"

"No," I said, the word a little more clipped than I'd intended for it to be. But I knew that if I didn't put an end to the topic, he would keep asking things. And I was worried that he might be the one person I would actually tell all about how I ended up in this profession.

I couldn't let that happen.

"Try not to break a kneecap running into any of the equipment," I teased as we walked into the darkened gym.

I'd never admit it aloud to anyone, but I always found the gym a little creepy at night. Maybe that was just leftover fear from being a young woman closing a male-dominated gym alone at night. Walking into the locker rooms, stomach in knots, praying no one was still behind when there was no one else around.

"Hm," I said as I went behind the desk to find the hook my mom had hung his jacket on empty. "She probably put it in the office for safekeeping when she realized it was still here after we left," I said, and I heard Anthony's footsteps following me down the staff-only hallway that was home to a maintenance room, a private bathroom, and my mom's office.

And I swear with each step he took behind me, my heart tripped faster and faster until I could feel my pulse pounding in my throat, chest, wrists, and, well… somewhere else I needed not to be thinking about.

I could feel him just a breath behind me as I slipped another key into the office lock, trying to ignore the way the heat of him was somehow slipping through the fabric of my clothes to chase the chill in the gym away.

A little shiver coursed through me, and I prayed it was dark enough that he didn't actually see as the lock gave and I pushed the door inward then took a much-needed step away.

There was a coat hanger wedged next to her desk where my mom kept about three different jackets and sweatshirts hanging in case of unexpected weather.

I made my way there, reaching up to remove his jacket, then turning, not realizing Anthony had moved into the postage stamp sized room with me.

So when I whipped around, my breasts brushed across his chest.

My head whipped up as desire sizzled across my nerve endings.

And, somehow, at that moment, I couldn't seem to muster the determination to keep things professional, to take a step back and wait for him to do the same.

So I stayed planted, my chest against his, my breathing getting slow and shallow as my heartbeat thrummed frantically. This close, I had to wonder if he felt it too.

I was so distracted by my own response to his nearness that I hadn't seen his arm raise until I felt it slide across my shoulder, up the side of my neck, then whisper down my jaw until his fingers snagged my chin and lifted.

There was a beat.

Waiting to see if there were any objections, any hesitation.

Finding none, though, his lips crashed down on mine in the dark, his mouth swallowing the moan as it escaped me.

My body swayed shamelessly into him, craving the feel of his hard lines against my softer ones.

My hands slid up his arms then across his chest before grabbing the sides of his collar, pulling him more flush against me, my breasts crushing to his chest as his lips pressed deeper.

If there had ever been any concerns about his innate clumsiness or lack of attention slipping into his kissing skills, they disappeared immediately as his hand slid from my chin to grip the back of my neck, tilting me back as his lips grew hungrier, nearly bruising into mine.

My hands moved from his shirt to wrap around his neck as I went up on my tiptoes.

A shiver moved down my spine as Anthony's tongue teased the crease of my lips before moving inside to meet mine, both of us exploring, tasting, teasing.

My fingers slid up, tangling in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, drawing a rumbling noise out of him, making his hands slide from my neck, moving down my back, then sinking into my ass, using it to draw me even closer. His cock pressed against my stomach, making a throaty whimper escape me as everything in me begged for him to reach up, to draw down my pants and panties, to sink his tongue, fingers, and cock inside of me.

Sensing my need, Anthony turned as his teeth nipped my lower lip, biting just to the point of pain as he folded forward to grab me around the thighs, then lifting me up off of the ground to deposit me down on my mother's desk.

My legs instinctively spread for him and he stepped between.

My arms went up around his neck as he leaned forward, his hand planting on the desk behind me, bending me backward as his hips pressed between my legs, his cock pressing against my cleft.

My legs wrapped around his hips, my heels digging into his ass, holding him more tightly against me as I writhed against him, desperate to get a hint of relief from the aching need.

Anthony groaned against my lips as I found the rhythm my body was craving, rocking restlessly against him, my hands clawing at his back.

His mouth ripped from mine, moving down to tease over my neck as I arched off the desk, rocking harder against him, my low whimpers becoming soft moans.

Anthony lifted up, looking down at me for a moment before he moved me to the very end of the desk so he could stand, his hands sliding up under my shirt, fingers meeting heated, sensitive skin as I continued to writhe against him, driving myself closer and closer to the edge.

His fingers had just traced up to the underside of my bra when a voice called from the main area of the gym.

"Saylor?" my mom called, making me freeze as Anthony's hands snatched back out of my shirt, and he quickly moved to stand, eyes wide, horrified.

While all I felt was a bone-deep sort of frustration as I moved to sit up on the desk.

"Saylor?" she called, and I could see her flicking lights on as she made her way closer.

Anthony, in his panic to lean down and grab his forgotten jacket to, likely, cover his raging hard-on, rammed his head against the desk, mumbling a curse as he quickly stood just as my mother came into the doorway.

"Sayl—oh," she said, pressing her lips together as her eyes lit up in amusement as Anthony turned to face her, knuckles white he was clutching his jacket so hard, seemingly completely oblivious to the little trickle of blood moving down his temple when my mom flicked on the light.

"Anthony left his jacket here," I said, trying not to laugh at the shade of scarlet Anthony's neck was taking on.

"I see that," my mom said, having to swallow hard not to laugh. "You two are all rumpled," she said, and I watched the redness move from Anthony's neck to his ears. "You must have had a busy day," she added. "You know," she went on, "chasing bad guys and such," she added with a nod.

"Yeah. Ah, busy," Anthony agreed, sounding like he was choking on his words as he wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole right then.

On the plus side, I imagined his hard-on was good and gone by now.

"Oh, honey, you're bleeding," she said, zeroing in on his face. "Saylor, honey, you should take him to the locker room and… fix him all up," she said.

Anthony's hand rose, touching the blood, then wiping it carelessly on his shirt. "No. No, I'm fine. I should, ah, get going. Tomorrow at ten?" he asked, turning toward me, but not quite looking at me before rushing out of the door to go be mortified in peace.

My mom turned to watch him go, lips twitching as he tore out of the gym like his ass was on fire.

"Bad timing, huh?" she asked, finally letting out a little laugh as she turned back to me.

"It's probably for the best," I admitted, sucking in a deep breath, ignoring the way my sex was clenching hard in objection to things stopping just before the grand finale.

"Next time you break in to have sex on my desk, can you at least lock the door behind you?" she asked, leaning over to pick up a folder we must have knocked to the ground whilst otherwise engaged.

"We really did come for his jacket," I admitted, hopping off of the desk. "And we were both fully clothed," I reminded her.

"Yes," she agreed, smiling, "but for how long?"

My mother and I had long-since moved on from anything resembling discomfort about topics like sex since she walked in on me mid doing it with my high school boyfriend in my own bed.

She'd always been more of a ‘if you're mature enough to do it, you're mature enough to talk about it' kind of mom. So there'd been a lot of talking after that. About consent, condoms, birth control, making sure I wasn't letting a guy get away with not making it a mutually satisfying act. Because, as she said, ‘if he's not as concerned about your pleasure as your own, he should get a sex doll, not a woman.'

"Did I trigger some sort of silent alarm?" I asked as I followed her back out of the office.

"No. I was actually getting food down the street, and I noticed when I was coming out that the gate was up. So I came to check."

"Were you out with someone?" I asked, trying not to seem like I was prying. Really, I would be happy for her if she dated again.

"Oh, just a group from the gym," she said, waving it off. "So, you're seeing Anthony tomorrow too?"

"We're taking the ferry to Staten Island."

"How… romantic?" she said, brows furrowing.

"It's for work," I said, rolling my eyes at her as we flicked off lights and made our way back out to the street.

"Sure. Sure. Work. But wouldn't it be a lot more fun to play with him instead of work with him?"

"Mother," I grumbled, getting a laugh out of her.

"Oh, please, you want to climb that man like a tree and we both know it," she said as we started to walk.

She wasn't wrong.

"Well, we can play after the job is done. I don't want the hormones clouding my judgment."

"Oh, honey," she said, stopping at the top of the stairs to the subway. "I think things will be a lot… cloudier if you keep fighting it. But that's just your old mother's two cents," she said. "Be safe getting home," she told me, waving toward the steps.

"You too," I said, stopping to watch her walk toward her apartment before jogging down the steps.

And as I stood there waiting for the subway car to pull up, need thrumming through my system, I had to wonder if maybe she was right after all.