Page 53 of Where Demons Hide

He sets the dish on the stove, then opens a drawer for a spoon. “Second cabinet to your left.”

He scoops the pasta onto the plates, and I carry them to the table. Carlos grabs two more bottles of water and places a basket with freshly baked bread in the middle of the table. Callisto pulls out my chair, then his own.

“Rosemary focaccia. It’s my mother’s special recipe,” Carlos says as he takes a seat.

“You made this?”

He grins. “It wouldn’t be wise to own a restaurant and not know how to cook.”

My gaze cuts to Callisto. “So, that’s where you got it from.”

He places a hand on my knee and my pulse jumps. “Part of it.”

My body ripples with heat from where his fingertips touch my leg all the way to my core. He smirks because he knows it.

I take a drink of water to cool the flames.

Carlos takes a piece of bread, then digs his fork into the pasta. “I’d like to think we gave him the best of us.”

The gentle and the stern. The peace and the storm. The light and the dark.

I hope our child has that too. I hope he balances it the way Callisto does.

After dinner, I offer to help with the dishes but Mira walks in and stops me by smacking my hand. “You already took my boy. I can’t have you taking my job too.” Her words are light and her tone soft as she smiles.

Callisto dips down, kissing the top of her head. “There’s no need for jealousy, Mira. You will always be my first love.”

She shakes her head, mumbling something in Italian that makes him laugh. Then she scrapes the plates and turns on the kitchen faucet.

Carlos wraps me in a hug, leaning in to my ear. “I had a feeling fate would work itself out.” He pulls away and looks at his son. “I’ll make the arrangements with Vince.”

As I watch him walk away, I realize they must have talked about whatever arrangements he’s making with Vince before they came into the kitchen.

“We didn’t just come for dinner, did we?”

Callisto puts a hand at my back and leads me to the front door. “Now why in the world would you think that?”

God, I love it when he smirks like that. So cocky. So sexy.

“Call it a hunch.” I stop when we reach the front door and spin to face him. “You mean you’re not going to give me the tour? Show me your room?” I wonder if he has trophies on shelves or posters on the wall. Does his room still look the same as it did when he was younger? What kind of teenager was he?

His voice lowers. “If I do that, I’ll have you bent over the bed with my dick in your cunt.” He steps closer, pressing his body against mine. “Is that what you want, angel? You want me to take this pussy on the same bed I used to jack off in?”

My nipples harden against his chest. My mouth goes dry. “You don’t seem like the watching-porn-to-get-off type.”

“I’m not. The things inside my head are much better.” He grabs my ass in both hands and squeezes. His hard cock digs into my hip. God, I’m wet. “Right now, my mind has me on my knees and you slammed against the door. Legs spread with my thumb in your ass, a finger in your cunt, and my tongue on your clit.”

My pulse rises, skin flushes.

His finger eases into the crack of my ass through my dress, and my body tenses. He smirks. “You want to know the difference between that and porn?”

I swallow thickly, my voice barely capable of making a sound. “What?”

“I won’t have to watch you come on a seven-inch screen.” He presses his lips to my neck, to that sensitive spot right below my ear. “Time to go home, angel.”

35

Makenna

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