Authors: Renee Rose
Joey’s face had turned serious--all of the cocky charm was gone, replaced by an empathy that made her vision turn wavy. She blinked and looked out the window until the constriction in her throat eased.
Joey reached across the table and covered her hand with his large one. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She met him with a challenging look. “What really happened to him, anyway?”
She heard him suck in a breath and he stared at her without speaking for so long she thought he wouldn’t answer. “It was an accident,” he said at last, exhaling as if he’d reached some sort of decision. “That’s the God’s honest truth. There was an inside fight and he got killed.”
Her heart was beating a chaotic rhythm. “Who?” she choked.
He cocked his head to the side. “Come on, Sophie,” he appealed. “Code of silence--I couldn’t tell you, even if I wanted to.”
She ran a finger under her lashes in case her mascara had run. “Okay,” she breathed. “When you say inside fight that means someone in the Family killed him?”
He nodded once, as if he were telling her something he shouldn’t and he didn’t want anyone to see.
“But why? What were they fighting about?”
He hesitated again and something about it made the hairs stand up on her arms. “They were drinking and it got ugly. Your dad broke a bottle of Glenlivet over the other guy’s head, and he fought back by picking up a broken shard and slashing your dad’s throat. I don’t think he meant to--it was just an instinctual reaction, you know what I mean? He was torn up about it for years.”
Her jaw hung open. “Torn up about it for years,” she echoed blankly. “What were they fighting about?” she tried again.
He rubbed his face. “They were fighting over your mom,” he said at last.
Ice ran through her veins. She lifted her wine glass to her lips to hide the emotions that knocked her in the chest and ricocheted around.
“She gave Artie a lot of grief over business, and it rubbed some of the guys the wrong way. I can’t remember what exactly it was over that time--maybe he couldn’t go to poker night or something-- but it was sort of the same old argument, only this time, there was a lot of liquor involved and it turned ugly.”
“Were you there?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“Yeah, I was there.”
She guzzled the rest of her wine. “Hey, can we go?” she said after wiping her lips with the linen napkin. “I’m not that hungry.”
Joey looked wounded, but she couldn’t help it. The idea of staying and playing out their date while she had tumultuous thoughts flying through her head nauseated her.
“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his hand to signal the waiter, who seemed as disappointed as Joey.
“I’m sorry,” she said, when he took her elbow to lead her out. “I just need some fresh air or something.”
“Sure. You want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
They took the elevator downstairs and stepped out onto the city sidewalk. After a few deep breaths of air, she did feel better. “You won’t say who?”
“No, Sophie,” he said, sounding sympathetic.
“Well,” she said after they’d walked in silence for a stretch. “Thanks for telling me, anyway. “I’d rather just know the truth than always wonder.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he said, taking her hand. His was warm and large, enveloping hers like a man’s should. Joey was a man’s man, no question. And she’d never wanted that sort of man in her life. Her father had been enough. She’d been dating softer men--artsy men, social justice sort of men, the kind who would stay home with the kids if she wanted to work. But there was a certain sense of safety she felt walking with Joey. Like he would slay all her dragons if she asked him. Hell, he already had slayed the car loan dragon, hadn’t he? And while he’d just underscored everything she hated about the mafia--the violence at its core that had caused the death of her father--he’d also reminded her of what she’d loved so much about her dad, too.
She looked up at him and sighed. “I guess I do owe you a second date now, don’t I?”
“Yeah, you do.” He grinned at Sophie, a tingle of pleasure dancing all around him. He’d had no idea she would crack so easily--be so real with him--but it was just what he had expected: she had depth. He wanted to take away the pain of her father’s death. He shouldn’t have told her anything--he hoped he wouldn’t get his balls busted for it later--but he felt she deserved some information.
His phone rang and he cursed inwardly--it was Pauly, one of the capos. “What’s up?”
“A friend of ours got picked up tonight and I’m short five grand to post bail.”
He sighed. “I’m on a date, Pauly.”
“Oh really? No kiddin.’ Who with?”
He looked at Sophie and rolled his eyes. “None of your business.”
“Does that mean I know her? Come on, tell me who.”
“Sophie Palazzo.”
Pauly was silent a long moment. “No shit?” There was a slightly wary note to his voice.
“Yeah.”
“How’d that happen?”
“Can we talk about it later?”
“Oh yeah, right. What about the cash?”
“Hit up Al, or I can get it to you in the morning. This is not my emergency.”
“Yeah, fuck you.”
“Fuck you, too,” he said, hanging up.
Sophie raised her eyebrows. “What was that about?”
He gave her ass a slap. “You should know better than to ask.”
She looked shocked at the reprimand, even though it had been in play, and he reminded himself she was not used to his style. Somehow it made him even more eager to win her. She was that girl who’d always been out of reach for guys like him. He wanted to show her what she’d been missing.
He put his hand on her low back and let it slide just once over her ass and then return to her back. “Sorry,” he said. “Maybe you don’t know?”
She shook her head immediately, but didn’t look at him and though it was dark, he thought she might be blushing. “No, you’re right. I should know. I’d forgotten.” They walked a little further, her steps getting slower. “Well, I feel stupid now, but my feet are killing me,” she admitted.
He looked down at her strappy heels. “I’m sorry, I should have realized.” He swung her up into his arms, chuckling when she gave a little shriek.
“Ack! Put me down, I’m too heavy!”
“You’re not too heavy, and I’m not putting you down,” he said firmly, turning to walk back in the direction of his car.
“You big brute,” she laughed, squirming. “Show off! Neanderthal!”
“Yes,” he murmured, enjoying the vanilla spice scent at her pulse and the view of her cleavage.
“You’re looking down my shirt, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice offended, but lower than usual, as if she was turned on at the same time.
“Paybacks are hell,” he said.
“What’s this payback for?”
He leveled a look at her and was satisfied to watch her eyes slide away. “Oh yeah, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
He refused to put her down until they arrived back at his car. “All right, kid. Back to your place? Are you through with me for the night?”
“Yes, please,” she murmured to his disappointment, but not surprise. He started the car and pulled out, navigating his way back to the suburbs.
“So, what, are you a capo now?” she asked.
His lips twisted into a grin. “Are you still asking questions?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you some answers right after you let me strip search you for a wire.”
She gave a snort and shifted nervously in her seat.
When they arrived at her place, he jumped out to open her door, swinging her up into his arms again.
“Jesus, Joey!” she protested, but there was a giggle bubbling in her words. “You just want me to tell all my friends you swept me off my feet, don’t you?”
The idea of her telling her friends anything about him turned him on. “What
are
you going to tell your friends?”
“I’m going to tell them--” she broke off abruptly and he had the feeling it was something derogatory.
“What? That some Guinea goombah took you out and manhandled you?”
“Shut up,” she said, but he could tell by the way she looked away he was close to the truth. He walked her to the door and took her keys, refusing to put her down until they were inside.
He looked around. He had missed inspecting the place when he picked her up because he had been too busy inspecting her. It was small but comfortable--filled with plants and colorful artwork. She pulled off her shoes and tossed them onto a rack by the door.
“What bothers you about me, anyway?” he pushed, staying in her personal space.
She looked up, her cheeks flushed. “You’re just too much man for me, that’s all. I couldn’t handle you.”
He cupped her face, running his thumb over one cheekbone. “You don’t know until you’ve tried,” he coaxed.
“Am I in danger here?” she asked, “Do I need to be worried about you not taking no for an answer?”
He grinned. “No. But you’re giving me mixed signals, so I’m working on wearing down your resistance.”
She put her hands on her hips, but didn’t move back. “What mixed signals?”
He brought the back of his forefinger to the place her nipple protruded through her bra and blouse and rubbed over it. “This is one,” he murmured.
She gave a tiny gasp, but still did not pull away. He ran his finger up her throat and under her chin, watching as her head fell slightly backward. He cupped her nape and lowered his head, moving slowly to kiss her throat, giving her ample time to refuse it, if she chose.
She didn’t. He could see her frantic pulse beating under her jawline and he brushed his lips there first, traveling lower to nip at her neck and still lower to kiss her collarbone.
“Sophie,” he coaxed, running his hands down her back and squeezing her firm little ass. “Don’t you want to find out what you’ve been missing?”
“No,” she gasped, but she leaned into him, her body pressing against his as her head fell further back and her arms clutched his shoulders.
“No?” He kneaded her ass with one hand while the other returned to the back of her neck as he nibbled at her ear, kissing along her jaw, and suckling her neck. She gave a tiny moan and grasped his head, pulling his mouth toward hers. His cock went rock hard at the invitation. Passion exploded into his kiss as he claimed her mouth, pressing his tongue in, sucking her lower lip between his teeth, pulling her against his body. She shocked him by climbing onto him, lifting one knee to his waist for him to catch, then mounting him with both legs around his waist, never releasing the kiss. He gripped her ass and walked down her hallway in search of the bedroom. He found it easily and didn’t bother with the lights. The moment he put her down, she pulled off her clothes, so he unbuttoned his shirt, and tore it off, then stopped to retrieve a condom from his wallet. Her hands on his zipper threw him over the edge, and putting the condom between his teeth, he picked her up by the waist and tossed her onto the bed, pouncing on her the moment she landed.
“Joey!” she gasped.
The sound of his name on her lips made him shudder with pleasure. He flicked his tongue over her erect nipple while pinching the other between two fingers. She arched into him, wriggling her hips and wrapping one long leg around his waist.
Slow down
he schooled himself, but found it was as if he was in high school again, too amazed he was getting lucky to stop and enjoy the moment. To distract himself, he wriggled down and parted her thighs, licking into the succulent folds of her pussy.
She wound her fingers in his hair and pulled. “Oh God!”
He swirled his tongue around her clit before penetrating her with it and pulling back to flick her sensitive folds. He slid two fingers inside her, curling them to feel her inner wall, searching for her g-spot.
Bingo.
The little button of tissue hardened under his fingers and she cried out, squirming frantically.
Oh Joey.
He’d been right. She had been missing something. A sense of panic welled in her as the stimulation became too intense. She felt almost like she had to pee and then a climax tore through her, causing her to shriek and kick and convulse on the bed, while her lover continued his assault on her senses.
When it passed, all she could think was:
Joey La Torre is a real man.
She had not planned on having sex with him. She certainly wasn’t going to get involved with him. But damn, he had been so worth a torrid fling.
She’d spent all her dating years avoiding men like him, men like her father--aggressive men. Cocky, self-assured, macho men. Alpha men. She now realized it may have been at the cost of satisfying sex. Because she’d just had the best orgasm of her life, and it wasn’t just his technique, it everything about him--the aggression, the powerful persona. She closed her eyes, listening to the waves of pleasure still coursing through her body, relaxing her limbs. She didn’t mean to, but she drifted into sleep.
Chapter Three
She woke to the confusion of finding a man sleeping next to her. 6:30 a.m. Whoops. She hadn’t meant to doze off after her orgasm, leaving her date to his own devices. She stole a glance at him. He seemed a completely foreign presence in her bed. His chiseled features were not softened by sleep--the jaw and nose were still strong, the lips a soft, inviting counterpoint. He slept on top of the sheets in his boxer briefs, his body like that of a prize fighter--all muscle.
She was surprised he’d stayed, but maybe he hoped she’d return the favor when she woke up. It was not an altogether distasteful idea. In fact, looking at his cut body brought on a fresh surge of lust. What was wrong with her? She hadn’t been this horny since her college days. Well, one more round with La Torre before cutting him loose would not be the worst thing. Placing her hand on his washboard abs, she slid it lower, slipping it into his briefs.
His cock surged to attention at her touch, hardening and lengthening immediately. He let out a soft groan and opened his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, “Did I leave you blue-balled?”
He made a purring noise and rested his hands under his head. “‘Mmm, that’s all right. I figured I already have you hooked for the second date and I hadn’t expected to get so lucky, anyway.”