Page 15 of Sin City Obsession

Alessa spread her arms for a moment, making sure the whole front of her new T-shirt showed, then folded her arms across her chest. “I changed, obviously. The other shirt’s in the garbage upstairs. No way in hell am I washing that nasty shit with my laundry.”

Rocco spun on his heel and strode for the stairs.

He isn’t…But he was, of course. As she gaped after him, Rocco climbed the steps and disappeared behind the half-wall that offered only visual privacy for the loft.

Alessa didn’t jolt into motion until she heard something like the rustling of plastic. When the sound registered in her ears, she sprang forward. “What the hell?” She took the steps two at a time, but she was still too slow. By the time she raced into her temporary room, the unmistakable smell of smoke was drifting her way. Her eyes widened more and she followed it to the attached bathroom. “What thehell?”

Rocco was staring into the soaker tub, lips bent into a scowl and a lighter in one hand. “This is more effective.”

Alessa balked, her gaze following the trail of smoke in reverse until she lost sight of it over the rim of the once-alluring tub. She stepped closer, close enough to see the burning, charring mess that was the shirt she’d worn barely an hour earlier. She should have been mad about the shirt, about whatever it was that had driven him to dig it from her personal trash and setit on fire, but for the life of her all she could say was, “I was looking forward to soaking in that tub.”

Rocco tucked his lighter away and turned to face her. He took a single step forward and caught her chin between thumb and forefinger. “I guess you’ll have to use mine.” Then he dipped his head and sealed his lips over hers.

The kiss lasted for only a few seconds.

It may as well have lasted for hours.

Alessa was breathless when his touch fell away. Unfamiliar heat burned her face and shot through her blood. She was no innocent, not by any stretch, and that kiss had been one of the most chaste she’d ever experienced—technically—but there had been an energy behind it that was the absolute opposite.

Rocco was already moving, stepping around her and exiting the bathroom. “Come on, I’ve kept you waiting long enough.”

“You need a nice, strong, Italian man…”

Alessa gave herself a hard shake and twisted after him. “Hold up. Seriously. What the hell was that?” She motioned a little too sharply back toward the ensuite. “What wasallof that?” Yes, in a literal sense, Rocco Cavallo II met her mother’s description. To frightening perfection. But he was absolutely, completely, and utterly off the table. He wasn’t even the kind of guy she could hope to scratch an itch with.

He stopped just shy of the opening that would normally have been a doorway, glanced toward the bathroom, then looked back at her. “What I said. Burning it was more effective than simply tossing it out with the trash.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Don’t worry. I’ll buyyou a new one.”

Her mouth opened. “You’ll— No. Never mind. That’s not even the point.” She dragged in a breath. “I don’t need you to buy me a new shirt, Rocco. Things happen. Clothes get ruined. It’s no big deal.” How did she ask about the kiss and not jeopardize her position? She was a weird, unnatural amalgamation of mafia soldier and ambassador at the moment, and while it was entirely possible for her to say the wrong thing and make an enemy she didn’t mean to, the potential consequences of her doing so were significantly higher than normal.

Rocco moved into her space again while her brain spun with too many thoughts. He cupped both of her cheeks in his large hands, holding her gaze steady, and spoke in a low, firm tone, “You were disrespected in my city. I’m making it right. I’ve already made the decision.”

She barely held back the snort. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said, reaching up with the intent to pull at least one of his hands from her face. His touch was warm, nice, and far too confusing. Her fingers curled over his wrist. “But I’m pretty sure women get disrespected in Las Vegas on anhourlybasis. Are you going to go out of your way for the rest of them, too?”

He pulled her closer. She was pretty sure it was him, anyway. His fingers splayed as his hands slid back, threading into her hair and curving around her nape. “No,” he said, the word vibrating from his lips. “They’re not you.”

The second kiss was not chaste. It was not gentle. She did not freeze up and forget to kiss him back.

Alessa leaned into it, letting his tongue sweep through her mouth as her fingers found purchase in the shirt over his back. She moaned when he wedged a thigh between her legs anddropped one hand to her ass, lifting her up enough to grind her against him and assure her of his arousal.

Rocco trailed open-mouthed kisses over her jaw, tugging on her hair just enough to expose her throat to his lips. All the while she clung to him. All the while their bodies ground against each other.

She nearly came when his phone went off, buzzing incessantly in the pocket most between her legs. “Ah, fuck!” Alessa sucked in a startled, jarring gasp, realizing the state she’d half thrown herself into and how unavoidably frustrated she already felt at the interruption. She tried to scramble off him, to back away, but Rocco adjusted his grip—and his stance—to keep her plastered to his front with an arm around her waist as he all but ripped the vibrating phone from his pocket.

He turned his head only enough to not be growling in her face when he answered. “What?”

Fresh heat flooded her cheeks and Alessa ducked her head.What the hell did I just let happen?More importantly, why did she feel so certain she wouldn’t put up a fight if it were to happen again?

She blamed the latter on the strong arm still holding tight around her and the scent of him permeating her senses. Obviously, she couldn’t think rationally in this situation.Ugh, five minutes with a vibrator would do wonders right now…Or his fingers. Or his tongue. She imagined his tongue was capable of wonder.

She nearly reared back to smack her head before remembering she was currently resting it on his shoulder. That was anything but subtle.

“Good, send it,” Rocco said into the phone. His tone was still agitated, but he sounded as if he were trying to curb the feeling. He pulled the phone from his ear and tucked it away, but said nothing for several more seconds.

Alessa sucked in another shaky breath. For a moment, she couldn’t remember when she’d last been so unsettled. The moment passed. It had only been about four months.There we go. Emotional cold shower.Everything inside threatened to shrivel up, for a split-second, and she held her breath until the pain re-settled where it was supposed to be. Then she pushed lightly at Rocco’s chest and felt a small rush of relief when his grip loosened, finally allowing her to put space between them.

Not that she knew what she was supposed to say. She had no idea what any of that had meant to him, let alone what it meant to her.

“I may have pushed too hard, too fast,” Rocco said, “but if you think me letting you slip out of my arms this time means this is done, think again.”

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