Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“Oh, I think you do.” He leaned closer, slipping his arms around me and dragging me across his lap on my back. My legs extended along the seat, and I pressed my knees together as his right hand slid under my nightgown again. “And you’re going to tell me.”

“Enzo, please.”

He kneaded my thigh, but his touch was gentle, too gentle for how I knew he must be feeling inside. And he was smiling. “Tell me, darling.”

I chewed my bottom lip as his eyes searched my face. Despite his warm hands on me, the curve of his lips was as chilling as the calm in his voice. It was the Enzo I’d first met, the one who could mask his emotions so masterfully that I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He’d let some of that façade slip in the last few days. But now there’s something he wants more than you. “I can’t.”

His smile widened as his fingers slid higher and worked between my inner thighs. “You can do anything you want,” he said softly, bringing his lips close to mine as he began to stroke me. “You’re still wet. I love that I make you this wet.” Lowering his mouth, he slid his tongue between my lips and eased one finger, then another, inside me, his languid kiss mirroring the gentle rhythm of his hand.

Somewhere inside my brain was a voice warning me that this was wrong, that I’d made a promise to Joey, that Enzo wasn’t kissing me this way because he cared for me. But I silenced it by telling myself I’d done the right thing by revealing Joey’s secret—I’d prevented Enzo from hurting anyone. And even if Enzo didn’t love me, he certainly loved pleasing me, and maybe that was enough. As his tongue swept mine, my arms snaked around his neck and I widened my knees a little.

“Good girl,” he whispered, removing his fingers to caress my tender, swollen flesh before plunging them deep inside me again. “You’re going to come again for me.”

“Oh God…” I clutched at his neck and turned my face into his chest, but even the smell of him, smoky and masculine, drove me mad with desire.

He rubbed his wet fingers over the most sensitive skin on my body. “I know everything you want. And I can give it all to you, you know I can.” His voice was dulcet, the words dripping from his lips like honey. “Your own apartment, money to do as you please, new clothes…the life you deserve. I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

When I moaned, he rubbed faster and harder, and I could only think yes, yes, yes. I murmured the words, and he brought his lips closer to my ear.

“Wouldn’t you like your own place? Where we can be together whenever we want? I’ll make you come all…night…long.”

His breath tickled my skin, his words echoing through the roar of blood and the buzz of nerve endings and—oh my God the way he touched me made me feel like nothing else mattered but the moment and the need and the heat and the spiraling climb toward release…

“Yes!” I cried out, lifting my hips against his hand as the second orgasm exploded inside me, no less powerful than the first. When the tightness finally eased, my bones were floating in my skin.

“Mmmmm.” He kissed me again. “You’ll need an apartment that has thick walls.”

I managed a tiny smile.

“So what do you say?”

“I…can’t afford an apartment.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“No.” Orgasms aside, I didn’t want to him to own me.

“Then I’ll get you a job. Would you like to work at the club?”

“Work at the club? What would I do?”

“Whatever you want. Hostess? Hat check? Waitress?” He cocked his head. “You don’t sing, do you? Or dance? You’d look fantastic on stage in a short little costume.”

“Uh, no.” Because one of my legs was slightly shorter than the other, the result of a difficult birth during which my hip was broken, I’d never felt terribly natural while dancing—sometimes even walking comfortably was a chore. And my singing made my cooking skills look good.

“Well, you can think about it then. But I’ll see to it that you’re paid very well, if you want.”

I exhaled, closing my eyes. Of course I wanted it. I wanted everything he just mentioned—the apartment, the nights with him, the money to do as I pleased, the freedom to make my choices and own my mistakes as well as my successes. What young woman didn’t want to live a flapper’s life with all its wicked delights?

But at what price?

If I told Enzo where the opium was and he took it back, Joey would know I’d betrayed him. But if I didn’t, Enzo would take matters into his own hands and people would get hurt, maybe even killed.

I opened my eyes. “If I tell you where the opium is, you have to promise me you’ll give me a chance to talk to Joey before you take it.”

“I can’t promise that, Tiny. But I can promise that if you don’t tell me, I’ll have no choice but to settle this score my own way.”

My heart stuttered. “Well…you can’t hurt Joey. Promise that.”