Page 53 of Cruelest Contract
“Which brother?”
“Tye. He manages to insert hints of sex into nearly every situation. I’m not even sure it’s intentional.”
“You can stop wondering. With Tye, it’s definitely intentional. And don’t look now but he’s already inserting sex into another situation.”
Cecilia swivels to observe Tye playing tonsil hockey with a tall brunette. “The boy works fast. I’ll give him that.”
“Are you offended?”
She blinks at the question. “No. But I guess I come off as a real prude or you wouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m just trying to get to know you better, Cecilia.”
Our eyes lock and the heat shifts between us.
“Ditto, Julian,” she says, hunching her shoulders and leaning a little closer.
Too fucking tempting. My eyes drift down and devour the curve of her breasts. My cock surges and my balls throb. I’m rapidly reaching the breaking point.
Our drinks are dropped off. I’d really like to steal her whiskey shot in the hopes of distracting from my massive boner. However, I can’t get buzzed when everyone else is getting frat party drunk. I’m stuck suffering with a hard dick and a soda.
Cecilia sips her beer. It’s clear she doesn’t like the taste but she gulps a few mouthfuls anyway before setting the glass down and giving me a frank stare. “My cousin Lianna lives in Portland now. She’s married with a little boy.”
“Good for her.” I wondered if this would come up at some point. The last time I saw Lianna Grimaldi was the day of thewedding massacre. A bullet shattered her collarbone and her father, Cecilia’s uncle, was killed.
“Is it true about you and her?” Cecilia asks. “I always wondered if she was lying about hooking up with you.”
Sure it’s true. By my teen years I was already my father’s apprentice. I accompanied him on a Vegas trip to meet with a roomful of Mafia overlords. In my spare time, I got dirty with the daughter of the hotel’s owner. We didn’t have sex but we did enough.
“My only excuse is that I was seventeen and horny,” I tell Cecilia.
She takes a delicate sip of her beer. “I see. Now you’re thirty and no longer horny?”
“Ouch. I’m not thirty yet. And I’m more horny than ever.”
She chokes on her last sip of beer. I’ll count that as a victory.
When she recovers, she dabs at her lips with a napkin and says, “You’re not like your brothers. I mean, all four of you are different. But with you, nothing you say or do seems frivolous. You get what you want but not by being impulsive.”
“It’s just that I have more self-control.” A quality that rapidly fades the more I stare at her soft lips and imagine all the ways I can use them.
She chews on this answer for a moment. “I think there’s more to it. You’re insightful. Shrewd. Determined. None are bad qualities. I’m not knocking you for being practical.”
“You strike me as pretty damn practical yourself.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I’ve been accused of beingtoopractical. Maybe that explains why I’ve never fallen in love. Not that it matters.”
“Why doesn’t it matter?”
Her fingertip traces a bead of water sliding down her beer glass and her brow creases. “My grandfather and Angelo kepta close watch on me. They chased away every boyfriend I ever had.”
“Then to hell with them. Useless pricks.”
She sniffs out a laugh. “They weren’t all pricks.”
“Trust me on something. Chasingmeaway would be impossible.”
“I believe you,” she says and this time her eyes wander, focusing on my mouth. “You haven’t been in love either, have you?”
