I don’t have people over to my house, and when I do, I make it a practice not to make them feel at home. So it shouldn’t please me that it’s so easy for her to get comfortable.
But again, this is the same character trait that won my ma over. She didn’t tiptoe around the house and act stiff and formal. She ruled the roost while she was there, bossing my ma around, all the while doing an irreproachable job.
I sit down in the chair beside her and try to stick my spoon in the ice cream.
“No way.” She jerks it away, angling her body to shield it from me.
I chuckle. “One spoonful. Give me a taste.”
My last words hang in the air between us, taking on an erotic undercurrent. Desiree blushes a bit when she offers the carton.
I take one spoonful, savor the rich treat, and then put my spoon down.
Desiree digs into the carton like it might be taken from her at any minute and she needs to get as much in her before that happens. I watch as she mmms and groans in pleasure, my dick getting hard. Every time those full lips mold around the spoon I get jealous. I vow to buy a fucking crate of this ice cream to have on hand while she’s staying here.
She doesn’t stop until her spoon scrapes the bottom and then she blushes again. “Dang. This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to eat before bedtime.”
“You deserved it.” My voice sounds rusty, which seems about right, since it’s unlike me to throw out compliments or praise. Ever.
She flushes deeper, looking distinctly guilty. “I have a tendency to stress eat.” She sets the carton down with one large spoonful left in it.
“I enjoyed the show.” I didn’t mean to say it, but it’s the truth. Watching her wolf down the ice cream was damn cute. I relished her enthusiasm and clear pleasure of the dessert.
Maybe in my head I’m thinking the hedonism she displayed over the ice cream translates to the bedroom.
Not that I’m going to fuck her.
I’m definitely not going to fuck her.
It’s bad enough I dragged her into this shit storm. I don’t need to further taint her with me.
La Madonna knows, I ruin everything I come close to.
I scoop out the last bite with her spoon and hold it out to her. It’s weirdly intimate and as soon as I do it, I realize it’s too much.
“No.” She shakes her head and turns her face away.
“You sure? All right.” I put the bite in my mouth instead and her gaze tracks to my lips, like she enjoys watching me eat as much as I loved watching her.
She stands up, running her palms down her scrubs like they’re sweaty. “So. I’m spending the night, huh?”
Right. She’s not a guest, she’s a prisoner. I need to make sure she understands that.
I stand, too. “You’ll stay in Gio’s room,” I say. “That way if he needs you, you’ll hear him.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and I can tell she doesn’t like it, but she doesn’t say anything. I would put her in another guest room, but I don’t trust myself with her. Lord knows I want to get my hands all over her sassy curves. Want to find out what she tastes like. What it’s like to pound between her legs and make her scream.
But none of that is going to happen.
So putting her in Gio’s room is definitely the best plan.
We walk up the stairs to the landing. “You got a toothbrush I can use?”
Cristo. It’s like an overnight without the sex. Not something I ever do—overnights, that is.
“Uh, yeah, I think I do.” I head into my en suite bathroom and dig out an unopened toothbrush head for my sonic toothbrush. I hand it to her with the toothpaste and point to the guest bath.
“Thanks. I’ll be right back with this.”
She disappears into the bathroom and I close my eyes and lean against the wall.
Maybe Paolo was right.
Maybe I was thinking with my dick when I had her dragged here.
Maybe my dick is an opportunistic fuck who doesn’t give a shit who I ruin.
* * *
Desiree
I sleep maybe three hours, which is no surprise. I put codeine in Gio’s drip, but he still wakes every thirty minutes groaning.
And even though I’m dead tired, I’m too keyed up about being Junior Tacone’s prisoner to be able to rest. I get up when the clock reads 6:34 a.m. and slip into the bathroom to pee.
Gio’s asleep, and a peek in Junior’s cracked door tells me he is, too.
It’s my chance to leave. I should take it. Because even though Junior promised me a big payout for staying, I’m not sure his word is good. That might just be what he’s telling me to make sure I do a good job. And when Gio doesn’t need me anymore, I end up in Lake Michigan with cement shoes.