Dead Man's Hand (Vegas Underground 7)

“Don’t be scared with me,” I murmur. “Never with me. Remember my promise? I’m a man of my word.”

Marissa

I blink up at Gio, a riot of emotions filling my chest beyond capacity. It seems too unreal to believe this powerful, wealthy, dangerous man is making pledges to a twenty-five-year-old line cook from Cicero.

But if it all goes back to me being in his nightmares, I guess it makes sense. I represent something to him. Something about why he survived or what he should change in his second chance at life.

Because the moment is too big, too vulnerable, too scary, I blurt, “I made dessert.”

A giant grin stretches across Gio’s beautiful face. “She made me dessert,” he narrates. “This girl is perfect.” He arches one brow, movie-star style. “Only I thought you were the dessert, angel.” He climbs off me and helps me to my feet.

“Another dessert, then,” I tell him. I’m excited to give it to him. He was so stand-offish when I got here, I’d decided to just tuck it in the fridge and let him find it on his own, but now I’m eager to treat him.

“Lucky me,” he rumbles.

“Yes,” I agree.

“You’re excited,” he observes. “You really love what you do.”

I try to pick up my jeans from the floor, but he swats my bare ass. “No clothing, angel. I like it when you serve me naked.”

My well-used pussy gets hot and wet again at those words.

His gaze drops to my nipples, which tightened. Flushing, I scoot toward the kitchen and he follows me. When I try to at least put on the apron like last time, he shakes his head. “No way you’re covering up that pretty pussy, angel.”

“I think the health inspector might have something to say about this,” I mutter, but I’m fighting a smile.

His smirk is sexy as hell.

I pull out the container with the dessert from the refrigerator and grab two plates. I keep my back to Gio as I dust the plates with powdered sugar and cocoa, then serve us each a piece of homemade tiramisu with a handcrafted espresso truffle on the side. I decorate the edges of the plates with a drizzle of raspberry sauce and one raspberry, one blackberry and one strawberry, cut into a flower shape. Then I turn to present them.

Gio’s gaze falls on my body first, traveling from my breasts to my pussy and back to my breasts. Then he finally sees the dessert. “Tiramisu? My favorite.”

“I remember,” I admit. He always orders it when we have it at the deli. “My nonna’s recipe, but I made it special for you.” I blush at the admission.

He holds his arm out. “Come here.”

Setting down the plates, I walk over and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my naked body against his fully clothed one. His hand slides over my ass and squeezes.

“I fucking love it when you cook for me,” he murmurs against my temple, then tips my chin up and slides his lips over mine in a slow kiss. “I might have to lower your wages so you never pay off your debt to me.” He says it so warmly, with such an appreciative purr, the alarm bells don’t go off in my head. “I guess you were right about the Tacones after all.”

My pussy’s dripping again. I don’t know why my body’s so responsive to him—whether it’s his words or his touch, but I’m definitely owned, even without the money situation between us.

I look up and rub my nipples over his shirt. “Shouldn’t you making me an offer I can’t refuse?”

The broad smile stretches his lips again, revealing gleaming white teeth. “Angel, I’d give you anything. Make a list and I’ll start fulfilling it.”

A puff of surprised laughter comes out of my mouth. “Okay… how about erasing my debt?” Might as well go for the gold, right?

Regret flickers over his face and my belly twists up tight. “Not that one, baby. I’m not ready to free the little caged bird yet.”

I knew it was too much to ask—thirty grand is a huge debt to ask forgiveness for, and yet his refusal pierces me. Maybe because he’s so bald about what this is. I try to stumble back, but he holds me fast.

“We had a bargain, angel. We’re both enjoying it. Let it ride a while longer, baby. I’m open to renegotiating if that changes.

I relax a little. He brings his mouth down, hovering over mine, but doesn’t claim my lips. “Kiss me,” he commands.

The moment I do, all my misgivings and apprehensions fall away. I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls my legs up around his waist and I dive into everything it means to be owned by Gio Tacone. To be naked and at his mercy. He backs me against a wall and presses me into it, pinning me firmly so he can rub the bulge of his cock against my weeping pussy.