The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily) - Page 55

My teeth nipped her lower lip, waiting for her to let out a low whimper before my tongue moved inside to claim hers.

Her hands released my shirt, sliding across my shoulders, then up my neck before her arms wrapped around me, holding on, and crushing her body to mine as my lips got harder and more demanding.

If it weren’t for a random horn beeping, I was pretty sure we would have burnt past her lunch break just standing there, lost in that moment.

“We have to get you back,” I said, watching as her eyelashes fluttered and her brilliant light green eyes found mine again.

“Do we?” she asked, voice whisper-soft and so needy that all I wanted to do was drag her back to my hotel room, toss her onto the bed, and get lost in each other for a day or two. “I mean… yeah,” she said, shaking her head, recovering quickly. “Right. Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late,” she said, going to her door so fast that I couldn’t open it for her.

And when I slid inside and turned the car over, she made further conversation impossible by fiddling with the radio with nervous energy and clumsy fingers.

She didn’t wait for me when we got back to the coffee shop, either. She rushed in, and likely through the building as I stood there leaning against Traveler’s car, my head tipped up to the sky, trying to bring some calm back to my system.

“But I don’t know what I’m talking about, right?” Nino’s gravelly voice asked, making my eyes snap open to find him standing there just outside the door to the coffee shop.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, fuck off,” he said, chuckling. “I’ve been watching you lie your whole life, you think I don’t know it when I see it? Besides,” he said, taking a step closer. “You think I don’t know what a thoroughly-kissed woman looks like?” he asked, smirking at me.

“Shit.”

“Don’t worry. Something tells me Rizzo’s husband does not know what that looks like,” he said, shaking his head. “Where’d you go?”

“To get pizza.”

“Pizza,” he repeated, like the word didn’t make any sense.

“She hasn’t had any in years.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “And then…”

“Yeah, and then. It was just the moment. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Yeah. Sure. Our rooms are next to each other, you know,” he reminded me. “And I very much doubt you are talking about Colin’s business for hours every night.”

He wasn’t wrong about that.

“Your point, Nino, get to it.”

“What are you fighting it? Never really known you for having restraint when it comes to women.”

“I killed her boyfriend,” I reminded him.

“An unconventional meet-cute, sure, but so the fuck what? Why does it matter to you if it doesn’t matter to her?”

“Shouldn’t it matter to her, though?” I asked.

“What? You think she’s too damaged to know what she wants?”

“I wouldn’t insult her like that,” I objected.

“Then, what? You think she’s having some savior bullshit? You think you’re just the first appealing guy to cross her path, so she’s clinging to you?”

“I mean I wasn’t thinking that, but now I am,” I said, snorting.

“Listen, I’m just saying. Who the fuck are you to tell her what is or isn’t appropriate for her, right?”

With that, he turned around and went back into the coffee shop, leaving me with my own thoughts.

Tags: Jessica Gadziala Crime
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