Her eyes heated as I gripped her wrist and jerked her against me, our mouths molded together, hot and needy. I reached for her bra and unsnapped it, Mo reared back, bearing her teeth.
“Bite me, and I’ll just enjoy it more.” I kicked her bra away from us and waited, my chest heaving with unchecked desire.
Mo’s eyes flashed and then her nails were digging into my neck, she scratched down to the collar of my shirt and with a rip tore it open, buttons went flying. I couldn’t have cared less. The woman freaking drew blood with those nails as my shirt was flung to the floor.
Her hands dipped into the waist band of my pants, tugging me closer to her. With at tilt of her head, our mouths collided again, this time slower, more tortuous. She licked my lips with slow languid movements; swear the woman was mimicking sex with her mouth. With her hands she was doing things at my waist, the feathery touch of her fingers trailing along my skin left scorching heat in their wake.
For the first time in days I felt—I felt everything.
All it once it was like an explosion ringing in my ears, I wanted to close my eyes to the feeling of it all—I’d been numb after meeting with Phoenix, and now I was alive—bleeding and alive.
Mo pulled back, and I realized she’d unfastened my pants. With a feral glaze in her eyes, she jerked them downward, flinging them to the floor. I stepped out of them nearly stumbling as I pulled her into my arms again, my hands digging into her hair and pulling so tight she winced.
Her head fell back, exposing her neck, and I took full advantage, sucking her skin all the way down to her collarbone—one of my favorite places.
Her breasts teased my chest and her nipples hardened to rigid pebbles.
My hands hooked around her hips and lifted her into the air tossing her onto the bed.
As I slid off my boxers, I crawled slowly up her body, licking, tasting, and biting my way up her leg until my head was next to her thigh. Shivering she arched her back and let out a little moan.
And I lost it, for the second, third, maybe fifth time that night.
Making her scream was my only goal.
Damn I was going to go to Hell for walking away after this—but I couldn’t… she was my drug—my sweet addiction—and I needed a fix more than I needed another breath of air.
“Tex!” It was the first time she’d spoken to me since I’d scolded her. Eyes wide open she pushed against my chest. “I still hate you for what you’re doing.”
“Good.” I kissed inside her thigh and reached up to tug her body closer to mine. “Hate me in a few minutes—love me now.”
Her eyes took on a dark hue before flashing again as I gently slapped her leg and smirked.
The woman reared up and bit my lip.
Damn if I didn’t love that.
“Scream for me,” I whispered against her mouth tasting blood. “Only me, not him… not anyone else. You’re mine. Make me believe it.”
With a cry I thrust into her while simultaneously jerking her body down by her shoulders, staking my claim once and for all. She took me in and then tightened her muscles, squeezing herself around me, gripping me in the most intimate way I’d ever experienced. The abrupt sensation had me arching backwards, my body unsure if I wanted more or less.
She moved underneath me, rocked her hips a little.
More, definitely more.
Sharp nails dug into my back, beckoning me to pump harder and harder until I was out of breath, until all I saw was Mo—until she was my whole world—my existence.
Her muscles constricted around me, so tight it was all I could feel, her entire body taut. With a cry she pulled me down to her, our mouths meeting somewhere in the middle as her tongue tangled with mine.
And then she moaned, gently, in my ear.
And I was done—so done.
Finished.
The end.
We looked at each other—both of us naked and panting and I said the one thing I knew no guy who actually loved someone should ever say. “We can’t do that again.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
A woman scorned is a woman no man—Mafia or not—wants to deal with.
Phoenix
I
SIPPED THE WHISKEY
and winced. You know something’s very wrong when you’re unable to drink the pain away—when you feel so numb that the alcohol may as well be water dripping down your throat. I set the glass on the table and got up to stretch.
The men were in deep conversation about The Commission—something I really wanted to stop hearing about, all things considering.
“I’m going to go check on Bee,” I whispered to Luca and slapped him on the back.
He nodded once and returned to his conversation. Funny, Luca was the last guy on this planet I thought I’d align with. He’d tried to kill me when he’d first met me, weird how my murderer turned out to be my savior—more of a father figure than my own.
I scratched the back of my head and walked into the living room where the girls were having wine.
Bee was sitting in the corner, listening politely. Every few seconds she’d tilt her head and sigh, I knew that look. Insecurity at its finest, she wasn’t sure how to act or what to do. She crossed and then uncrossed her legs, took a sip of water, and looked down at her hands.
“Bee,” I called. “Come here.”
She jolted from her seat and walked towards me. I ignored the sway of her hips just like I ignored the vanilla swirling around my nose. “Are you okay?”
“Why?” She crossed her arms. “Are you going to take me away now?”
“No.”
“I’m bored.”
I pressed my lips together in annoyance. “I’m not your entertainment.”
Bee gave me a one sided shoulder shrug and looked up through half-lidded eyes. “Do you want to be.”
“Stop.” I swallowed convulsively.
Her eyebrows pinched together in mock innocence as she reached out and touched my arm. I jerked away. “Stop what?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” We’d had this discussion numerous times. I didn’t do girls, I didn’t fall prey to her pouty lips or her swaying hips, no matter how many times she tried. I wasn’t a toy for her to toss around just because she wasn’t getting her way.
With a pout she crossed her arms. “Come on, you have to be curious. All those long nights watching me sleep…” Her hand reached out, fingers tickled my forearm as she caressed. “Did you ever wonder what face I saw in my dreams?”
My teeth clenched together as I looked away. “No. Now stop. I’m not taking you home yet, not when Tex still wants to talk with you.”
“You’re a bastard,” She hissed.
“Thank you.” I stepped back.
With balled fists she let out a low growl and stomped on my foot with her giant-ass heel then marched past me.
Instant agony radiated up the top of my foot to my ankle. I forced a smile through the throbbing torture. My toe was probably broken; somehow Bee had managed to wedge her stiletto on top of my big toe rather than between my toes. Great. Just add a limp to the rest of the drama going on in my life.
“You okay?” Trace came up beside me and put her hand on my arm.
I tensed, hyperaware of every single finger that was pressed into my skin. Everything about her reminded me of what I was, what I’d done. Bile rose in my throat as I let out a small groan of irritation at my own weakness. I couldn’t control my mind as images of her broken body flashed through my head. I was worse than the devil—I
was
the devil.
She dropped her hand and looked down. “That looks painful.”
“That’s not pain,” I whispered looking down the hall were Bee had disappeared. “Real pain isn’t getting shot, or stepped on, or kicked, or punched. Real pain isn’t something tangible, you can’t see it, can only feel it as it wraps it’s hands around your neck and slowly chokes you to death, it follows you everywhere tortures you with every waking moment, giving you no peace. Pain is allowing yourself to feel guilt, shame, sadness, and even love. Trace, that’s what hurts a person. My foot? That’s nothing compared to hearing girls screams every night I go to bed.” I looked into her eyes. “Or seeing your face every damn day. That’s real pain.”
Trace’s brown eyes welled with tears, long lashes blinked trying to hold the water in as her gaze stayed focused on mine.
She couldn’t fix it—I didn’t want her to, but at least she knew I was sorry, more sorry than I’d ever be, so sorry that to stand by her was the worst pain of all because it was a constant reminder of the sickness that had stained my soul and taken control of my actions.
“I’m sorry.” I shoved my hands awkwardly in my pockets. “That was uncalled for.”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “I think it was the right thing to say.”
I licked my lips and nodded, feeling my cheeks stain with embarrassment at what I’d just shared.
“Hey.” Chase appeared and slapped me on the shoulder. “Either of you two seen Tex? Some of the guys are leaving and wanted to say goodbye.”
Trace angled her head. “Last I saw he was pushing Sergio down the hallway.”
“Oh good.” Chase nodded. “Another body I’ll get to bury.”
Trace winced.
“He’s kidding.” I rolled my eyes. “Just saw Sergio, he looks like shit, I haven’t seen Tex though.”
“Maybe he’s in his room…” Chase looked behind him.
“Or Mo’s.” I grit my teeth at the possibility. He’d better not be anywhere near her, unless he was making her believe he was a disinterested bastard with a heart of stone.
Chase grinned. “Horny little bastard. Alright, I’ll go check.”
He ran off leaving me alone with Trace again.
“Wine?” She held out her hand.
I wanted to take it; instead I stared at it for what it was, a peace offering, one I didn’t deserve.
“It’s just a hand Phoenix.”
“No.” I grasped her fingers. “We both know it’s really not.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
You may as well have killed me.
Mo
M
Y HANDS TIGHTENED
into tiny fists. Without warning him, I sent off a right hook, slamming Tex in the cheek. His body moved to the side, barely. Blinking a few times he looked down and sighed. “I deserved that.”
“You deserve a swift kick to the nuts.”
“For having sex with you?”
“For leaving afterwards.”
“Mo, I never promised—”
Another punch, my knuckles started to bleed as I wailed on him a third time. Finally he gripped my wrists above my head.
“Stop!” he growled.
I bucked against him, wrapping my arms around his waist. With a moan he lowered his head to mine. “Do that again and you’re just going to get more pissed with my next actions.”
“Go,” I whispered hoarsely, injecting all the venom of my hatred for what he’d become into the one word. “Before I pull out my gun and give you a better reason.”
Swallowing, Tex nodded and kissed me softly on the forehead. I nearly burst into tears, probably would have, if the door hadn’t been flung open.
“Son of a bitch!” Chase yelled, slamming the door behind him and charging towards Tex.
Tex stumbled away from me as I pulled the bed blankets up to cover my nakedness.
“You’re lucky I’m not Nixon,” Chase seethed pushing against Tex’s muscled chest. “He’d put a bullet in your head.”
“And what are you going to do?” Tex took a step towards him. “I’m the freaking godfather, killing me is like writing your own death sentence.”
I gasped at the truth of his words. What type of monster was Tex turning into? To say that to his best friend? To challenge him in such a way?
Chase chuckled. “Who the hell said anything about killing?” He moved so fast my eyes almost didn’t track him. Tex was on his back in seconds. Chase hovering over him, delivering blow after blow to Tex’s face. When Tex raised his arm to ward off the blows, Chase went in on Tex’s ribs, right left, right left.
And Tex let him.
“Chase, stop!” I wailed. “You’re going to kill him!”
“No.” Chase drove his fist into Tex’s side. “I won’t.”
“Chase!”
The door burst open again; this time it was Phoenix. With a curse he ran to the guys and pulled Chase from Tex’s bloody body. Chase still tried to lunge for Tex but Phoenix had his arms pinned behind his back.
Tex pushed up to a sitting position, blood tricking from a cut to his left cheek. One eye was already beginning to swell shut. “That all you got, Chase?”
With a roar Chase elbowed Phoenix in the stomach, twisting his arms out of his grip and dove for Tex, this time jumping into the air as his fist landed against Tex’s temple.
He crumpled to the floor.
He hadn’t even defended himself, and Tex was a relative giant; he could have, easily.
But that hadn’t been a Campisi taking the hits, that was Tex,
my
Tex. He’d felt guilty, and he’d needed to feel the pain as a reminder. I knew that about him, knew he was taking physical punishment for the emotional damage.
“Enough!” Phoenix roared. “Chase, leave.”
“No.” Chase heaved, wiping his hands on his shirt. “Not until—”
Phoenix sighed, reaching to the small of his back and withdrawing his gun then pointing it at Chase. “I said leave.”
Cursing, Chase stomped out of the room while Phoenix put his gun away and slowly walked over to Tex.
“Is he okay?” I squeaked.
“I hope it was worth it.” Phoenix ignored my question.
I reared back. “Worth it?”
“Sleeping with him. I hope it was good, because he’s going to have a hell of a headache and most likely two bruised ribs.”
I choked on a sob, covering my face with my hands. “Nothing’s worth him getting hurt over.”
“Then stop.” Phoenix’s voice was hoarse. “Stop hurting him, Mo. Stop making him turn into something he can’t be. Stop dreaming he’s going to come back and save you. There is no white horse, there is no happy ending in this story, alright? You aren’t one of the lucky ones and I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you that. But in no way is that man.” He pointed at Tex. “Going to say screw it to his own family in order to marry you.”
“He could though.” I fought the doubt in my head. “I could stay married to him, I could help align the families, like before. You said—”