Page 182 of Sins of the Orchid
Another laugh rumbled through his chest. God, I loved hearing him laugh. It took him five minutes to wash my hair and body, then wash himself off before we both stepped out of the shower to dry off.
“I have nothing to wear,” I told him, eyeing the dirty dress on the tiled floor.
“You can wear something of mine, and we’ll go get some clothes for you.”
“Where are we anyhow?” I questioned him.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Two hours later, both of us showered, we climbed back into the Jeep. The house we were staying at was beautiful, situated on a cliff and overlooking the ocean. We were somewhere along the coastline of the North Atlantic.
I eyed Santi. He looked good, though I wondered why he didn’t dress down. He wore his dark three-piece suit and of course, a gun. I wore one of his dress shirts that came down to my knees and boxers underneath. I tied one of his ties around my waist as a makeshift belt.
“So how often do you come up here?” I questioned him as we drove through the deserted, back road.
“When I want to be alone.”
“Sorry you had to drag me along then.” I wasn’t. I loved being with Santi. Anywhere. It wouldn’t matter if we were in a shack, as long as we were together, I’d be happy.
“I’m not.”
Watching him drive, I felt my lips curve into a soft smile. It was my reaction to him when I was happy. I could just burst from smiles and love.
The atmosphere in the car was comfortable, his hand on my thigh and my finger tracing over his ink. The move was familiar, intimate. Before I could get all mushy, because that was what his orgasms did to me, I changed the subject. “So where exactly are we, Santi?”
He glanced my way, his sunglasses hiding his eyes from me. It should be criminal to be so handsome.Oh wait, he is a criminal!He barely had any sleep, yet he looked rested and fresh. And oh so damn hot.
“Rockport, Massachusetts.”
My head whipped his way. “You drove all that way?”
“Hmmm.”
The question was whether we were safe here? Or maybe the danger was mainly in the city?
We drove for about thirty minutes until we were in the heart of the town. It was a beautiful little place and sort of romantic, a small seaside village like you would envision in the old days. He parked the car and scanned the area. You couldn’t take the don out of Santino Russo.
“Okay, stores are that way.” He tugged me along to the left.
“I’d much rather sightsee,” I murmured, my eyes darting everywhere. The town was busy, swarming with visitors, families on vacation.
His eyes roamed my body, his eyes burning my skin with his hot gaze. It spoke of dirty words and deliciously filthy things he could do to my body.
“Not dressed like that, you won’t.” His voice was a delicious mixture of gravel and sin, sending my heart into overdrive. He stood so close to me, his towering body brushing against mine. It felt like a warning to any other passerby to fuck off. He might as well have shouted to the world,She is mine!
“I forgot,” I rasped breathlessly. God, what this man did to me!
Taking my hand in his, we headed down the street. We stopped at the first store, walking through the door hand in hand, a gentledingannouncing our entrance. My thoughts traveled back to two months ago when we did something similar in Genoa. Things felt so so different back then. It had only been two months, but so much had changed. But one thing remained the same, I had loved him then, and I still loved him now.
“Italy all over again, hmmm?” My head snapped his way. It was like he was reading my thoughts.
“I loved Italy,” I admitted softly. His thumb came to my cheek, his rough pad gently rubbing against my soft skin.
“I know. We’ll go back.” I knew he’d keep his promise. “For our honeymoon and every summer.”
Pressing my cheek into his touch, I breathed deeply, his scent seeping into my lungs. “And some holidays.”
“Whatever you want.”
