Page 45 of Better Left Unsaid

Except Allie was now standing squarely in front of me. She was small, lightweight, so if I couldn’t walk around her, I could just pick her up and move her. But I had human decency, so I tried to use my words first. “Get out of my way, Allie.” Nice, right? Sorry, but I wasn’t feeling extra nice right about now.

“No. Cockblocking your single best friend is not cool,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “Maria needs to get some. She’s way too wound up lately.”

Impossible, I knew, so I shook my head. What Allie didn’t know—shewasgetting some. With me. She didn’t need any more. I was the appetizer, the main fucking course, and the goddamn dessert. I was all of it, and I could be an entire seven-course meal if that was what she wanted. Hell, I knew I had the stamina for it. All she had to do was tell me that was what she wanted and by the time I was done with her, she’d feel like she was training for a marathon. The longest one of her life.

But I couldn’t make Allie suspicious. She wasn’t stupid, and she’d likely figure it out in seconds if I put up any sort of fight. So I cleared my throat and held my hands up—although, I wanted to do something entirely different with them (to Sleazeball). “You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” she agreed, crossing her arms. “She was hesitant at first, but then she saw you with that woman, and it was like it was all the push she needed. You two really are the best of friends. You even need to know the other is having fun first.” She placed a finger on her chin, thinking. “It’s weird, actually, but then she was really excited to go over there and introduce herself to him, so regardless, I guess it’s a win.”

My jaw was twitching so much, I couldn’t seem to stop it even if I wanted to. Through gritted teeth, I managed, “The biggest.” Mistake. Ever. On my part, probably. Because I should have told her how I felt. Instead, I decided to fuck myself—literally—to the sweet, delicious memories of her. A swift kick in the ass, that was what I deserved.

Allie waved at someone behind me, probably Brady, because then she got this sultry look in her eye that usually meant he was close by. “Later, Deluca. My man’s waiting for me, but don’t piss on Maria’s good time, ‘kay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my voice monotone. “I’m calling for a ride, and I’ll meet you all back at the house.”

She smiled, starting toward Brady as I turned around to hear what she had to say. “You’re getting boring in your old age.”

I shook my head, scrubbing a hand down my face. The Morellis were going to be the death of me. I wasn’t old, by the way. I was the same age as Maria.

As I was walking out of the bar, I passed by Maria and quickly snaked an arm around her waist, knowing it’d piss Sleazeball off. Yeah, I’d decided that was how I was referring to him. It seemed fitting, even though I didn’t know squat about him. It was a shot in the dark, but still probably true, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. “Looks like someone’s going to get a time-out,” I whispered in her ear, so low, in fact, I knew he couldn’t hear a lick of that. Which was just the way I wanted it. Because it’d keep him guessing and make him curious as to what the hell was going on right under his nose.

Too bad I wasn’t sticking around to explain.

I dropped my arm as quickly as I came and smiled as she tossed me a death stare—seriously, it could have revived the dead only to put them six feet under all over again.

A cocky grin was about all she was getting from me as I meandered out of the club, pretty damn pleased with myself.

Maybe it wasn’t right. Okay, it definitely wasn’t right. But at least now I knew her night would be cut short, and she’d be joining me back at the house sooner rather than later. That meant less time for me to sit up and wonder what was going on with her and Sleazeball. It was selfish, I knew, but all was fair in love and war. Maria would have agreed with me on that.

* * *

All I could think about was Maria. When I’d finally given in and gone to bed, I’d honestly hoped I’d have a wet dream and be done with this tonight. It’d quench my thirst until we could be together again and that would be that. End of story. Except it wasn’t the end of the story because I didn’t have a wet dream. Instead, all the memories of tonight at the club kept spiraling through my head like the world’s worst reel.

Her lips stained red with that paint she put on her lips. I wanted that red all over my cock, staining it in a perfect ring around me, so it was marked at the place she sucked, where she took me so fucking deep like a good girl.

Her tight, black dress that was short enough to leave little to the imagination if she sat the wrong way, accentuating her ass like a dream. I wanted to grab that ass and give it a nice squeeze. I’d refrained only because of the multiple sets of eyes we easily could’ve had on us at any given point. Although, I wouldn’t have minded a show. For all I gave a shit, everyone in the Hamptons could watch as I claimed Maria with a healthy dose of PDA. Not that she would’ve cared much for that. Thus, I hadn’t done it, and probably never would.

Then there were her tits, which, come on, I had the most restraint on earth for not giving a second look, only a fraction of the attention they deserved. They were like two perfect globes. Luckily for me, they were all mine for the time being.For the time being because we were not lovers, we were friends with benefits.

All right, that did it. I tossed the covers off and decided to go see Maria. I was a man in need, and I had no doubt she was in need, too.

I looked down at my bare chest, boxers, and bare feet. Screw it. No one should be up at this late hour. Besides, if all went according to plan, these boxers wouldn’t last more than ten seconds. I didn’t need to put on a shirt or shoes. Less fucking around and more walking.

I continued, not second-guessing going to see her for a moment. When I got to her door, I knocked. If we weren’t in this great big house with other people, I would have said something provocative, but I was raised to be a gentleman, so I refrained.

No answer.

I knocked again.

No answer.

Should I say it’s me?No, that would make it obvious, and if someone did hear, they’d wonder why I was knocking on a door and whose door I was knocking on in the middle of the night.

When there was still no answer, I decided to try the knob, swinging the door open. See, sneaking around wasn’t that bad. In fact, anyone who thought it was clearly didn’t have the ninja-like skills and covert intelligence I did.

Perla looked up from the bed, some pink mask shit on her forehead and her hair a mess. “What the hell, Dom?” she asked, practically shrieking the words out as she scanned my body—and lack of clothes.

Then her hands instinctively went to her chest. My guess was that she probably realized she was also wearing very little, e.g. a thin shirt. Too thin for a man to see a woman wearing when said woman was like a kid sister to said man. “Oh, shit,” I yelled in hushed tones, covering my eyes and trying to make this less awkward. “Wrong room.”

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