Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

I love that he checks in, especially after being so dommy.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Then get in my kitchen.” He gives my ass another light slap and I scoot forward, shivering at the wealth of sensations coasting through my body. After a few steps, I get accustomed to the plug and sway my ass a bit, knowing he’s walking behind, admiring me.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Work it for me.”

I do. I strut around the kitchen as I prepare two beautiful top sirloin steaks with sautéed mushrooms and an arugula-grape salad with crushed hazelnuts. I’m confident in my meal selection and even more sure of my sex appeal. With Gio, I’ve become a sexual creature. I don’t know— it’s like I never really inhabited my body until he came along and woke it up. Now I adore my skin. I’m looking in the mirror, enjoying my reflection, which makes me more inclined to use make up and do something with my hair. Because it’s fun, not because I feel like I need to.

I’m falling in love with Gio Tacone.

That is the unfortunate fact.

Unfortunate because I still can’t find it in me to fully trust him. After a lifetime of my grandfather grousing about the Tacones, warning me to never, ever get involved with the mafia, it’s hard to not fear I’m making a terrible mistake.

But that’s my mind.

My heart? My heart’s already decided.

He’s got the keys.

And my body? Heck, he had this body from day one.

He sits at the breakfast bar now, covering his mouth, his eyes like burning coals. His body is a wound coil, ready to spring. Tension and expectation crackle in the air between us.

I finish preparing the meal efficiently, then shoot Gio a pleading look. “You’re not going to make me keep this in during dinner are you?”

I don’t know how I can believe Gio’s dangerous, because the way his face instantly softens is breathtaking. “Come here, angel.” He stretches out an arm.

I sashay out of the kitchen and he loops an arm around my waist and escorts me to the bedroom.

“Ready for your punishment?” he purrs.

“Yes, Mr. Boss.”

“Sir. Owner. Master. Boss. Any of those work.” He wears a smug grin on his handsome face and my pulse revs with excitement. He takes my hand and pulls it toward the bulge in his pants. “Although right now, I might say you own me as much as I own you, angel.”

And that right there is how I knew for sure—

I’m totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with Gio Tacone.

Chapter 13

Gio

Marissa and I walk along the shoreline in the morning with steaming lattes. The air is chilly but the sun is strong, glinting off the waves in streaks of silver.

Everything I’ve done in my life—all the good things, at least—I want to do over with Marissa at my side.

I want to take her to Vegas and show her the Bellissimo. I want to take her to Sicily and show her the Old Country. I want to bring her to all the nicest restaurants. All the beautiful beaches. All the amazing sights this world has to offer.

For now, I’ll settle for a walk along Lake Michigan.

I lace my fingers through hers, enjoying the ease between us. The warmth in my body from just having her beneath me. From taking her again against the shower wall afterward.

The image of her prancing around my kitchen with those sexy stockings and bra and my handprints on her ass will forever be at the top of my spank bank album.

But Marissa’s getting tense now—nervous. Which means she needs to get home for some reason or other.

I make it easy for her. “What time do I need to get you back, angel?”

“Actually soon. My grandparents are at a wedding and I have to watch Mia, my little cousin.”

“I’ll watch her with you.”

Marissa stiffens and stops walking. “Um, no. You don’t have to do that, Gio.”

“I want to. I haven’t met the child with the thirty-thousand dollar hip yet.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but it falls flat, because Marissa takes it as a reminder of what she owes me.

She swallows. “Well, sure. I mean, I guess you could come in for a little while.”

“So long as I’m gone by the time your grandparents return?”

She looks relieved at first, until she realizes I’m not happy with her thinking. “Shit, Gio. Please don’t ride me on this.”

I’m fucking toast when she turns those pleading blue eyes up on me. She’s so unbelievably beautiful and enigmatic. One moment she’s sweet and subservient, the next, she busts my balls. Sometimes she seems way too young for me. Other times, she’s the most mature woman I’ve ever dated.

I cup her nape and bring her face up to mine for a kiss. “All right,” I say after brushing her lips with mine. “I won’t ride you.” I want to say more, but I like the way her body softens into mine way too much. I don’t want her tense again. So I kiss the living hell out of her and walk her back to my place to get the SUV.