Ruthless: Mob Boss Book One (11 page)

“Nico.” She gasped his name, the chilly autumn air an erotic counterpoint to the heat of his mouth working its way up her calves to her thighs.

“I’ll die if I don’t taste you.” His voice was hoarse, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a fire burning in them that matched the one building in her body.

She let her head fall back against the bench, letting go of everything as he kissed his way up her inner thighs, his tongue working the sensitive skin until she thought she would come before he ever reached his destination.

He slid his hands through the folds of her skirt and slid off her lace panties.

“My god, you’re beautiful.” It was a whisper. A prayer.

He spread her legs, growling as he leaned in. His tongue swept her silken folds, closing his mouth over her clit. He sucked and lapped, and just when she thought she would die from the pleasure of it, he slid his finger into her.

“Oh, god…” She slid farther down on the bench, wanting to him to take all of her, taste all of her.

He groaned. “You’re so wet.”

He ran his tongue the length of her, burying his face in her heat. He darted around her clit, slow at first, excruciatingly slow, then gradually picked up the pace, working the sensitive bundle with his tongue while his fingers slid in and out of her.

She was moving with him now, reaching for the climax that was undeniable, irreversible. Losing herself to his hands and his mouth. He closed his mouth around her and sucked, sending her over the edge, breaking her into a million pieces as she cried out, coming with a force that shook her whole body, that threatened to destroy her.

She was still trembling when she reached for him. There was an empty place inside her, and only Nico could fill it. She leaned forward and reached mindlessly for him, desperate for him to slide into her.

He kissed her deeply while she undid his belt buckle. The taste of her on his mouth was erotic, and she felt another orgasm build between her legs as she reached into his pants, taking his cock into her hand. He was massive, heavy with his desire, and she moaned as she imagined him thrusting into her.

“Angel…” Her name emerged in a shudder from his mouth. “Say you want me, Angel.”

She was too intent on exploring his mouth, on the feel of his desire in her hand.

He pulled away, and she look at him through as if through a fog, her need for him still beating between her legs.

“You have to say you want me, Angel.” He looked like he was in pain as he said it. “I can’t… I have to know that you want this.”

The shock of cold air between them forced her into semi-lucidity. She looked at him, his eyes glazed with desire.

Nico.

Now something else was beating in her. Knowledge she wanted to deny. A reality she wanted to ignore in order to feel his hands on her again, to make it okay for him to take her.

Nico.

What was she doing?

She sat up, rummaging around in the folds of her skirt until she could smooth it over her bare legs. Her bare everything.

“I… oh, my god…” she said. “I don’t know what… I’m sorry.”

She slid away from him, her legs shaky as she tried to put some distance between them. Between her and what she had done, what she had almost done.

He stood, turning his back to her as he zipped his pants. When he turned around, his face was composed.

“I apologize.” The sincerity of his apology was written all over his face.

She swallowed hard. Part of her —- the crazy part—wanted to close the distance between them, put her hands on his face, tell him it wasn’t his fault.

And it wasn’t. Not really. She hadn’t wanted him to stop. If he hadn’t paused to ask her permission, it would be a done deal.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “I… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

His eyes darkened. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Her cheeks grew hot. “I got carried away. I’m sorry. But you have to know why it’s a bad idea.”

His nod was tight. “The bad idea to end all bad ideas.”

She had no idea why the words stung. “Exactly.”

He bent to pick up her panties and held them out to her. She put them in the pocket of his jacket.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we go?” His voice was distant, polite. “Luca will be waiting.”

She nodded.

They retraced their steps in silence. She was careful to keep some space between them. Clearly she couldn’t be trusted to think straight when he was around. It was only smart to minimize their contact as much as the circumstances allowed.

They passed the concession stands and headed for the gated archway. When they stepped onto the street, she slid the leather jacket from her arms.

“I think this is yours,” she said, handing it to him. “Thank you.”

She turned to open the car door, then paused and looked back at him.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He met her eyes. “That’s all.”

She pushed away the longing that made her want to step away from the car, to step back into Nico’s arms. She wasn’t thinking clearly. It was that simple.

She got into the car and shut the door, then faced forward, staring out the windshield as Luca pulled away from the curb.

18

Nico sat in the backseat while the limo idled at the curb. His time with Angel lingered like a dream, and if he turned his head just right, he could still smell her on the jacket he’d loaned her earlier that day.

He put his hand in one of the pockets, closing his fingers around the scrap of lace she’d forgotten there. He was immediately taken back to the moment he’d pulled the underwear from her hips, the smell of her desire hitting him like a tropical storm. He’d been ravenous for her, had barely been able to keep himself from driving into her then and there. It was only the image of her, spread out for him in broad daylight, that had stopped him. He’d needed to taste her then, needed to run his tongue along the soft crease at her center.

He felt himself grow hard. He had just removed his hand from his pocket when the back door opened. A second later, Carmine slid into the seat next to him. Luca shut the door but stood in front of it, keeping lookout.

“Nico.” Carmine reached over and kissed Nico’s cheeks. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Carmine. How are you?” Nico asked.

“Doing well, doing well,” Carmine said. “Busy, but that’s always good for the family.”

“True,” Nico said. “So what’s the problem?”

Carmine smiled, his round face cherubic under the whips of hair he had left. “There’s no problem, Nico. I’m just checking in on the Carlo situation.”

“There’s not much to report,” Nico said. “We’ve put out the word, but there’s no sign of him.”

Carmine leaned forward and poured himself a drink from the bar. “And you still have the girl?”

“I do.”

Carmine took a drink, then stared down into the amber liquid. “How long do you intend to keep her?”

Forever.

“Until Carlo shows himself.”

“And if he never shows himself?” Carmine asked.

“He’ll have to,” Nico said. “Frank Morra can’t run Boston forever.”

Frank was Carlo’s Underboss, and while Frank was every bit as ruthless, he wasn’t quite as bright. Things would start to fall apart eventually.

“That may be true,” Carmine said. “But you can’t keep the girl forever either. Especially when it’s against the rules.”

“It doesn’t seem like we’re playing by the rules anymore.”
In more ways than one
, Nico thought.

Carmine sighed. “I understand. I do. But no one can farm scorched earth.”

Nico turned his face to the window, watched people hurrying along the sidewalks. They didn’t have a clue how complicated things could be.

“I’m not planning on lighting anything on fire.”

“How long will you be able to keep the girl before you have to hurt her? Before you send a finger—or something else—to Carlo’s family to prove your threats aren’t empty?”

Fury rose in Nico’s gut like a tempest. He forced it down, forced himself to think rationally. “Not much longer,” he admitted.

Carmine studied his face. “You don’t want to do it.”

“Of course, I don’t want to do it.”

“And yet you’ve backed yourself into a corner by taking the girl in the first place. Now you have to follow through, or every threat the Vitale family makes will seem empty.”

Nico pressed his fingers to his forehead, trying to rub out the headache that was starting to hammer at his brain. “I know.”

Carmine put a hand on Nico’s leg. “Good. You’ve had her over a week now?”

Nico nodded.

“Then I’d say you have another two days. I’ll leak it to Frank. Maybe he can get word to Carlo, wherever he is.”

“Sounds good.” Nico had to choke out the words. The thought of hurting Angel, of damaging her perfection, made him sick. “Thank you.”

Carmine wrapped a hand around Nico’s neck and kissed his forehead. “No thanks necessary. I’m watching your back. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” Nico said. “And I appreciate it.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Carmine said. “Maybe get some food?”

Nico forced a smile.

Carmine knocked on the window and Luca opened the door. Nico sat in silence, Carmine’s words ringing in his ears as Luca came around to the driver’s side and started the car. He looked at Nico in the rearview mirror.

“Where to?”

Nico pulled his phone out of his pocket. “The Plaza.”

He made the call while Luca worked his way through the city. By the time they got to the hotel, Nico was feeling better. Angel was just a woman, like any other. The fact that she was Carlo’s daughter had brought out some twisted sense of retribution in him. It was understandable, but he couldn’t let his personal vendetta cloud his judgement. Angel was a pawn in a very complicated chessboard. She could be sacrificed, but it would have to be clean, the same way he’d sacrifice any pawn.

Starting with her fingers.

He met the concierge in the lobby and picked up his key. It wouldn’t do to be seen checking in at the front desk in the middle of the day in his home town.

He made his way up to the tenth floor and let himself into the suite. Then he loosened his tie and headed for the mini-bar. He poured himself a drink, downed it in one swallow, and poured another before crossing to the big windows overlooking the park.

It had been helpful to meet with Carmine. The older man had been part of the business for a long time, and he could always be counted on to see the big picture when Nico’s mind became clouded with rage. Raneiro served the same purpose, but he was headquartered in Rome, and Nico didn’t often get to spend time with the man he thought of as a second father. Carmine was right here, and this wasn’t the first time he’d given Nico some much needed perspective.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He put down his drink and opened the door to a curvaceous brunette in a designer dress. Classy, the way he liked them.

“Come in,” Nico said.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you a drink?” Nico asked.

She set her purse on one of the end tables. “No, thank you.”

He wasn’t surprised. Escorts at this level were professionals. Nico suspected they were told not to get drunk.

He sat on the sofa, and she came to sit next to him. Carefully, and not too close.

Good. He liked it when they let him set the pace.

She traced a line down his arm with one manicured hand, and he caught the scent of her perfume, expensive, probably french. Nothing at all like Angel, who smelled like fresh air and clean water and an undercurrent of desire.

Even better. This woman didn’t remind him of Angel at all.

“What do you want to do?” she asked, her voice sly.

“Straddle me,” he said.

She climbed over him and hiked up her dress, then sat purposefully on top of him. His cock always had a mind of its own, and it didn’t let him down this time, arising immediately to the occasion.

He slipped his hands under dress and realized she wasn’t wearing underwear. He held onto her hips as she moved back and forth, rubbing her bare pussy against his hard on.

This was good. This was working.

She lowered her mouth to his, her hair falling on either side of his head, and kissed him deeply. For a few seconds, his tongue did the work for him. But she didn’t taste right, didn’t feel right.

She didn’t taste like Angel, didn’t feel like Angel.

His eyes flew open, and before he realized what he was doing, he’d shoved the woman off him.

“What the…” She got up and put her hands on her hips. “What’s going on?”

He stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. You need to leave.”

She smoothed her dress. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I’ll make sure you’re paid, and I’ll make sure the agency knows you did your job.” He walked to the window and turned his back on her. “Now please go.”

He heard the sounds of her moving around the room, picking up her purse, closing the door behind her. When she was gone, he closed his eyes, remembering the taste of Angel in his mouth, the feel of her moving under his hands, the sound of her coming for him. When he had banished all trace of the other woman, he opened his eyes.

Fuck. He was in deep shit.

19

Angel tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable in the small bed. The room wasn’t hot, but her skin was clammy, and she threw off the sheet as she rolled onto her back.

She had spent the day pacing her room after Luca brought her home from the garden. She’d been ashamed, barely able to look Luca in the eyes. Would Nico tell him what had happened between them? Would it be a story to tell the men who worked for him?

Somehow she didn’t think so. She flashed back to the moment before he’d lowered his mouth to hers. What she’d seen in his eyes had been more complicated than ambition or simple lust.

Then again, maybe she was just rationalizing what she’d done. And she needed to rationalize. Otherwise she would have to live with the fact that she’d allowed Nico Vitale—the criminal responsible for her captivity—to bring her to an orgasm in broad daylight. Worse, that she’d wanted him to take her then and there. That only his own chivalry—for lack of a better word—had prevented it.