Twisted Emotions (The Camorra Chronicles 2)

“What? I thought you’d be happy that I feel home in Las Vegas, that my marriage to Nino isn’t hell as I’d originally feared.”

“I am happy for you, it’s just so hard to believe that the Falcones treat you right.”

I shrugged. “It is like you said: some men don’t bring violence home with them. Nino is one of them. He knows how strong he is, how powerful. He doesn’t have to humiliate me to feel powerful.”

The first real smile spread over Giulia’s face, and she hugged me again. “I’m so happy for you.”

People kept staring when we returned to the party, but they kept their distance. In the past it had been because they didn’t want to be associated with a traitor; now it seemed as if they were scared. Eventually, I found myself back at Nino’s side, his hand a reassuring presence on my hip.

“You’re doing good,” he murmured. His praise filled me with pride.

I felt relieved when we returned to our hotel later that night. Even after less than two months, Las Vegas already felt more like a home than Baltimore ever had, and I longed to be back where people didn’t judge me for my past.

A couple of days later, I woke with Nino when he got up for his swim. I decided to stay in bed for once and grab a couple of hours of additional sleep. Nino surprised me when he sat down and leaned in close, mouth near my ear. “Tonight, I want to explore every inch of your body with my mouth,” he said, and heat rose to my cheeks. “It’ll be more intense than anything we’ve done so far. I’m very good at it.”

All I could do in response was nod, stunned into silence, but my body exploded with heat. Nino got up, his swim trunks tenting, and turned to leave.

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine his mouth between my legs, wondering how it would feel. Restless and hot, I clamped my thighs together. My fingers found their way between my legs, and I stroked myself the way Nino had told me to, imagining his deep, low voice, his hands, his mouth … and I came with a small shudder, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Slipping out of bed, I opted for a long shower to clear my mind.

That evening I prepared dinner for the first time. I wasn’t sure if the men would appreciate it, considering it was meatless, but the three-cheese lasagna sounded delicious and as it cooked in the oven, its enticing scent gave me hope that I actually managed to create something edible.

I went in search of the men but found only one, Remo, who was kicking the punching bag as if it had personally insulted him. It was his favorite pastime.

He tossed a look my way but didn’t immediately stop his assault.

“Where’s Nino?”

“Shower.” Kick. “He worked out with Adamo today.” Kick. Punch. Punch. Kick.

“I cooked for us.”

Remo paused, his dark eyes narrowing. “For you and Nino?”

“For all of us,” I said quietly, shifting nervously under his harsh glare.

He moved closer despite my rising tension. Grabbing a towel thrown over the sofa, he stopped in front of me. “No running or flinching today?”

I pursed my lips. “I never ran from you.”

“You did when I fucked the whore on the pool table.”

Steps sounded a moment later, and Nino appeared at my side, lightly touching my back. “That is an unsettling sight.”

“Your wife cooked for us,” Remo said.

Nino glanced down at me. He smelled of his spicy shower gel. A few wet strands hung down his forehead and temples.

“Adamo took me grocery shopping today. I thought it would be nice to have a home-cooked meal for once.”

My eyes darted to his mouth, trying to imagine how it would feel, but I came up short. My imagination wasn’t very good.

“I assume no animal was harmed,” Remo muttered.

Nino sent his brother a warning look.

“It is vegetarian, yes, but your cholesterol levels will get their fill. Don’t worry. It’s layered with mozzarella, pecorino, and taleggio cheese.”

“About three pounds of cheese,” Adamo added as he sauntered down the steps, his wet hair tousled.

“Do you need my help?” Nino asked.

“You could carry it over here. The pan is heavy.”

Nino followed me into the kitchen, his warm palm pressed up against my back.

“It needs five more minutes,” I told him after another peek inside the oven, avoiding looking at his face because that led to me looking at his mouth and that led to more distracting thoughts. Nino regarded me quietly. He cupped my face and brushed his thumb over my cheekbone.

“You are nervous.”

I licked my lips, my eyes drawn up to his mouth then a bit higher. He moved closer and kissed me, slow and hot and with a promise of more. His tongue was almost playful as it circled mine, teasing but still dominant. Flustered, I pulled back. It was the first time Nino had initiated a kiss, the first time we’d been intimate outside of our bedroom.