Page 44 of Married with Mayhem

She sends over a disgusted look. “Is that the only part you heard?”

“It’s the part that stood out.”

“You know you’re hot. But I hesitate to inflate your ego any more or there won’t be room for all of us in this car.”

I huff out some laughter and the cocky smile remains on my face.

Yes, I’m aware that I’m above average. And yes, I recognize that Sabrina is also aware of this. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve caught her sneaking hungry glances at my arms and chest when she thinks she’s being sly.

But she doesn’t need to worry about me pushing to dissect this topic in detail. It’s a dangerous one. Particularly when we’re facing the prospect of a couple of days alone together on the road.

Sabrina, satisfied that the conversation is over, begins clacking away on the keyboard. When I peek at her screen, all I see are endless lines of rapidly evolving computer code that make as much sense to me as ancient Greek. Yet there’s no denying how cute Sabrina is when she’s concentrating. She tucks her soft brown hair behind her ears and presses her lips together as her fingers fly over the keyboard. It takes some willpower to drag my eyes away from her and keep them on the road.

We’ve made good time and when we reach Pittsburgh we stop at a twenty-four-hour diner located beside a gas station. Sabrina is pleased when she finds bagels on the menu but then she frowns when she hears that all I’m ordering is a pot of coffee.

“You need to eat,” she objects.

“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” I point out. “Not hungry.”

“He’ll take the Frittata Florentine,” Sabrina says and passes the dingy laminated menu to the frazzled waitress. “It’s his favorite breakfast.”

“Uh huh,” grunts the waitress and scribbles furiously on a palm-sized notepad before taking off in squeaky white sneakers.

The coffee arrives within a minute, along with Sabrina’s order of hot chocolate, which is topped with a dollop of whipped cream and a maraschino cherry.

“How do you know what my favorite breakfast is?” I ask as I shake a sugar packet into my coffee.

“Sal,” she explains. “Your dad loves talking about you. He says you can cook too, you and Nico both.”

“That’s sort of inevitable when you start working in your family’s restaurant in grade school.” I stir my coffee with slow strokes of the spoon and watch her pluck the cherry stem out of the mound of whipped cream.

She looks up, notices how my eyes are inspecting her every move, and breaks into a sweet smile as I lift the ceramic mug to my lips. “How would you like to eat my cherry, Monte?”

And that’s the story of how I nearly choked to death on a mouthful of coffee in a downscale Pittsburgh diner at three in the morning.

Sabrina flags down the waitress and asks for a glass of water. She also hands me a napkin to fix the fact that I’ve spit my drink all over the table.

That’s the thing about Sabrina. All too often she comes across as naïve and innocent and all you want to do is shield her from every sicko in the universe. Then with no warning she’ll pop up like a defective Jack-In-The-Box and say something so outrageous you nearly drown in your own coffee.

Right now she is clearly proud of her accomplishment. She’s smirking as she sets the cherry down on a napkin and then sips her hot chocolate through a straw while I mop up spilled coffee and try to collect my dignity.

I have no clue whether or not she was really implying that she’s a virgin. Sabrina’s dating history is a bit murky. One time I asked Nico if he’d ever seen her out with anyone. He had to think about it before remembering that a while back she’d been hanging around with some tech bro fuckboy but that’s all he knew. Luca would probably know more but I can’t ask without raising suspicions about why I’m so interested in the answer. All I have to work with is what I’ve seen for myself.

Back in the days when I was on call to transport Sabrina to her destination of choice, I had plenty of time to observe the way she interacts with other people. Men notice Sabrina everywhere she goes. She’s often oblivious to just how much attention she gets. But it is obvious that she has plenty of interest in the opposite sex. It’s what she does with this interest that’s still kind of a puzzle to me. I’ve seen her check out guys very openly but then get all timid and back away the second they made any kind of a move.

Whatever the case, she’s all talk. She makes these teasing sexual comments around me because she knows she can get away with it. I wonder what she’d do if I called her bluff. Sometimes the temptation is so strong I can almost taste the thrill of crossing the line.

In all honesty, there is nothing I’d enjoy more than burying my cock to the hilt inside her hot body as she writhes underneath me and loses her fucking mind.

Meanwhile, Sabrina cheerfully sips her hot chocolate and smiles at the waitress when her bagel arrives. She would never guess that I’m over here grappling with a colossal hard on andpicturing the way her tits would bounce while I dicked her for all I’m worth.

My plate lands in front of me as well and I have to admit, I’m suddenly starving and grateful to have the food. It turns out that a gangster brawl, an all-night road trip and constant sexual tension is the recipe for working up an appetite. I dig into my food without delay and I’m already almost finished when Sabrina’s phone pings with a message.

She squints at the screen. “Uh oh. Anni is awake and texting.” She presses a button, holds the phone up to her ear and shoots me an anxious look.

Annalisa Barone Connelly is nothing like either of her sisters. While Daisy is easygoing to the point of being ditzy and Sabrina is full of sweetness and mischief, Anni was always known as a hellcat. She’s fanatically protective of her sisters and tough to please. Getting on her good side takes some work. However, marriage to Luca seems to have mellowed her and we’re friendly now. I hope that’s not about to change.

From Sabrina’s end of the phone conversation, it sounds like Anni is primarily concerned with Sabrina’s safety and nothing else.

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