Page 39 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

August hadbeendoing that since we’d met that first time.

I’d actually been disappointed when he’d left town, and we hadn’t at least hooked up. Then, when I’d gone to his brother’s wedding, I’d found myself looking for him in a room full of other equally as attractive men.

Why?

I dunno.

I guess I felt what he’d insinuated he’d felt as well.

Sparks.

And I’d been interested to see what kind of flame they could be stoked into.

Once I’d gotten a hint of it, I’d been hooked.

I’d been talking to old neighborhood friends all day, but my mind kept drifting to the stairwell, to his hands and lips on me, to the promise of something more.

It was only as we were back at the hotel eating dinner with Aurelio that I started to remind myself what a stupid idea it was.

I mean, I wasn’t naive.

August and Aurelio were literally the only thing keeping me alive right now. If they weren’t around, I wouldn’t have the funds necessary to stay at a hotel for an extended period of time. If I was stuck at home, how long would it be before these guys realized that the Beware of Dog signs were about a little ankle-biting dog, and that my neighbor was old and struggling with mobility issues, and there would be nothing stopping them from breaking in and doing whatever they wanted to me?

Nothing.

There would be nothing stopping them.

They would keep coming until they got what they wanted from me.

There would be nothing I could do to stop them. Short of rigging my house up like Kevin fromHome Alone. And, let’s face it, those burglars were just plain dumb. There was no way those traps would work in real life.

So I was as good as dead without August and Aurelio. And if I fucked August, and things went sideways, he would leave. I’d be all alone. And dead.

I needed to keep things from going too far.

Hence the mild panic attack when Aurelio said he wouldn’t be around any longer to stand in the way of me and his cousin from getting all… glandular.

But he was gone.

We were alone.

And he was looking at me with those molten eyes, then pulling me closer, then down, until I was straddling him, and his hands and lips were on me again.

Everything—including my very valid reasons not to get physical with him—flew out of my head.

His fingers were kneading the back of my neck as his tongue slipped between my lips to claim mine.

I scooted closer on his lap before lowering down, his hard cock pressing against me, giving me the friction my body was crying out for.

I rocked against his hardness as his teeth nipped my lower lip, as his fingers shifted up to free my hair from its ponytail, then sink his fingers into the strands, massaging my scalp for a moment, then wrapping it around his hand, and tugging.

The pain mixed with the pleasure already blooming through my system, making me grind harder against him, frustrated that I couldn’t feel him better with layers of clothes between us.

Seeming to sense the need, August’s hands slid down, snagging my t-shirt, and drawing it up.

My lips ripped from his in a pant, allowing him to remove it completely.

“Fuck,” he hissed, looking at the black lace bra with a tan underlining, giving it a peekaboo effect.

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