Page 8 of Consumed By the Mafia

“You’re the one who called me.”

“I was free and I have some stuff to tell you.” He should be getting on that, too. “You gonna be available in a bit? I need maybe half an hour, but any time after that works for me.”

Cris chuckled, the sound a direct contrast to the frown furrowing Abby’s brow as she stared at her phone. “Now I know why you’re always single, if you only need half an hour.”

Ryoma choked. “Oi! I just need time to get back to my car and get her safely home, smartass.”

Abby’s head snapped up, her beautiful eyes going wide again. She shook her head as Cris spoke in his ear.

“The fuck happened to your car?”

Ryoma held her stare and nodded firmly. No way was he leaving her to some random cabby, looking so obviously like she was leaving from a night of thorough fucking. She might have washed out the bedhead, but the hickeys and the cocktail dress told the story just fine. “Left it at the bar,” he said into the phone. “Had too much to drink.”

Abby turned back to the table, reaching for the paper and pen.

“Where are you? I’ll send a car. They can drop her for you if you want the out,” Cris offered.

Ryoma mulled it over for a second, watching Abby hurriedly uncap the pen with her teeth and start scribbling something. He frowned. “I don’t need the out, but the rest sounds good.” He let Cris know which hotel they were at and disconnected, dropping the phone onto the bed as he started back toward her. “What do you think you’re doing, Abby?”

She jabbed the pen back into the cap and swept the whole pad of paper around to show him. “I don’t need a ride. I’ll just call an—”

Ryoma tugged the stationary from her, tossing it over his shoulder, and framed her jaw in his hands. “You shouldn’t have put that in your mouth, baby girl. You don’t know where it’s been.” He barely waited for her brows to arch before dipping his head and plunging his tongue past her lips in a rough, demanding kiss. He moved one hand back to thread his fingers through her long, still damp hair, using his other hand to hold her face to his.

She made a sound of surprise but hesitated only a moment before responding to the kiss.

They were both breathless when he broke the kiss.

“Wha-what the hell was that?” Abby asked, her fingers pressing into his sides where she held onto him.

Ryoma trailed a finger along her jaw. “A warning. Next time you do something unnecessarily reckless, like putting unfamiliar things in your pretty mouth, I’ll work you up so muchmore.” He leaned in to breathe the rest of the promise into her ear. “But I won’t let you come.”

As close as they were, he heard her breath catch in her throat. She said nothing for a long moment. Then, finally, she whispered, “Are you serious right now?”

“Very.”

Her forehead dropped to his shoulder. “Why isthiswhen I realize we never talked about … any of the important things?”

Ryoma grinned and smoothed his hands down her sides, curving them around her back. “I’m clean if you are.” Considering what she’d said about her experience, more than likely she was.

“Thank fuck.” She blew out a breath and straightened. “But that’s only one of the things.”

His grin didn’t falter. “I told you I was gonna fill you up. I’m guessing you’re not on birth control?” He heard his own words like some filtered question asked by and about entirely separate people. He really ought to have had a different opinion on the subject.

Abby’s face heated and she looked away. “I am, actually,” she said softly. Then she swatted his arm. “Not that you asked.”

“Nor did you volunteer.” He shrugged, but a twinge of relief assured him the disassociation would have been temporary. He hadn’tfullylost his mind. He lifted her chin to encourage her to meet his stare again. “We were both a little tipsy last night, Abby. Let’s be more forgiving to ourselves.”

She looked like she was trying valiantly to maintain a stubbornly stoic expression, but her lips twitched in defiantamusement. “I guess we were.” She leaned into him again. “I’ve never met a man who admits to being tipsy.”

He grunted. “It is what it is.”

Abby nodded, then pushed away from him and walked around the bed. She found the note he’d left for her, which she had left on the bed, and began folding it up.

Ryoma arched a brow. “Feel like a memento?”

She popped open her clutch. “My phone’s dead.” She waved the folded-up paper before tucking it inside. “This way, I have your number.”

He couldn’t stop the grin. He hadn’t made an effort to keep in touch with a woman romantically in years. The desire he had to hold on to this one, at least long enough to see if they could become something, was foreign to him. But he was willing to go along with it. Eager, even. Watching the people he was closest to find their perfect matches had only emphasized his own loneliness.

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