Page 108 of Dirty Mafia Torment
“You don’t follow the rules. You rewrite them. And I kind of hate you for it.”
Fuck me.
I shift on the hay bale and look away.
“You’re embarrassed?”
How many poor bastards cursed with dysrationalia squirm at the thought of deep, soul-baring talks about intellect?
“I can’t believe it. You are.” She jumps to her feet, almost dropping her takeout plate. “The same man who wiggled your bare ass at me.”
Finally, a topic I can get behind. “Same man who made an F into the shower tile with my come.”
Her eyes pop out of her head.
Mission accomplished.
“You … did?”
The tension in my body eases. “Practice,” I simply say, thankful the little perv relishes my bullshit the same way she salivated over the gnocchi.
Her voice fucking quivers. “Practice for what?”
“For when I have you naked and tied to my bedpost and am decorating your tits and stomach with an R instead.”
“Oh …”
Bullseye for Renzo.
Her chest rises fast, and she doesn’t say a word, but the way she squeezes her thighs tells me everything.
She’s picturing it.
I spear gnocchi on my fork and finish the last few bites.
“I don’t think so.” She says it with such enthusiasm my brows rise as I look at her. “You’re the one restrained, babe.”
Holy fuck. Did she just babe me?
She ignores me, covering her dinner then placing the container inside the tote, every movement deliberate and sharp.
Stunned, I have to ask. “Why not?”
She stiffens, and then the verbal machete returns, sharper and ready to draw blood. “I made an agreement to help you, and that’s what I’m doing. Otherwise, we’re two strangers who happen to have a past…”
“My dick was covered with your virgin blood?—”
“Who don’t even know each other?—”
“You’ve been stalking me for years?—”
“…and who, under normal circumstances, would never be attracted to each other?—”
“Fuck normal.”
The way she spits out her words, like she’s trying to cleanse herself of me. And that won’t happen. Not now. Not ever.
I stand, and the dinner container flies off my lap. She tries to jump out of reach, but she’s close enough I can count the freckles on her shoulder. I wrap an arm around her waist and haul her into me. “Babe,” I say, low and dangerous.
