The Woman at the Docks (Grassi Framily)

I knew what I would find on their faces.

Shock.

Confusion.

Maybe a little disappointment or anger mixed in.

Romy shot me a look of pure, undiluted derision before turning back to Lucky and Matteo.

"If you'll excuse me. The warden is back. And he's in a bad mood," she added, pointedly moving out in front of me so I would have to follow her through the kitchen and down into the basement.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked as soon as we made it to the bottom, staring at each other from underneath unflattering fluorescent lights.

"Why are you lying to us?"

"Lying to you about what?" she asked, brows pinching.

"Don't act stupid. I am not going to fall for it."

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but I can't answer your questions if you don't ask ones that make sense."

"Angelo did some digging on all the containers coming in from that corner of the world. They're all old, trusted importers, sweetheart. So let me ask again, what were you doing at our docks? Who do you work for? And don't feed us some bullshit story."

"You th

ink I would make up a story like that about my sister?" she asked, tone hollow, hurt. "Do you have any idea how bad of karma that is? It's like calling into work because you want the day off and saying there was a death in the family. It's bad form."

"Criminals don't give a shit about bad form, Romy."

"I'm not a criminal, for God's sake. I thought we were past this. What the hell is going on today? What do you want from me?"

"What do I want from you?" I asked, tone getting low, rough.

"Yes, Luca, what the hell do you want from me?" she demanded, voice getting more heated.

I knew a thing or two about heat right at that moment.

Desire was a live wire sparking through me, little fires shooting off everywhere until the flames overtook me completely.

There was no thinking, no debating if it was right or wrong or somewhere in between.

One moment, I was three feet away from her, raging.

The next, I was closing the space between us, backing her against the wall, grabbing the nape of her neck.

"This is what I want," I told her before my lips crashed with hers.

Crashed.

That was the only way to put it.

The collision that could leave mangled debris in its wake.

Her body stiffened for all of two seconds before it went lax, languid, until her hands were raising, grabbing the arms of my suit jacket, holding on as my lips pressed harder, deeper, demanding more from her, not satisfied until they got everything they were seeking.

A low whimper escaped her as her lips parted for me invited me in, and demanded more from me as well.

Her arms moved up, snaking around my neck, crushing her body to mine, her breasts against my chest, her hips pushed against my cock.