Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
He brushes his hands over his face. They slide down and come to rest over his mouth. He’s freaking out about something. He’s hiding something and I just can’t do it anymore. Adapt or die, Dom’s words keep coming back to me. I need to put some distance between us. For a little while at least.
“They’re going to get me if don’t leave,” he mumbles.
Another gut punch. I can always count on him to make me physically ill when we argue. I can feel the separation happening already, our friendship a vestigial limb being severed. An umbilical cord stretched beyond its limits until it snaps. I know it’s going to be painful, but the reality is that it’s already too painful to bear.
“Who’s after you?” Frustration pushes tears up. They pool in my eyes. “Who is it?”
He shakes his head. He won’t tell me. He comes here asking me to abandon my life––what’s left of it after I put everything on the line for him––but he won’t tell me who or what he’s running from.
“Stay here for a minute,” I order.
I leave him to go get the last of the cash out from my dresser drawer. The last two thousand dollars of a forty thousand dollar gambling debt––including the vig––I owe Ivan DeloRusso.
By the time I come back out, to the front of the apartment where I specifically asked him to wait, he’s gone. The front door is wide open and Tommy is nowhere to be found.
I’ve never aspired to much other than to build a sustainable business I can be proud of and take care of the guys who work for me. You know––pay it forward and all that. That’s not a lot to ask for, I don’t think.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge anyone great success or wealth. Veronica has those kinds of aspirations and she’s the best person I know. What I mean to say is I’ve never wanted to have one foot in each world for this exact same reason––because it feels like I don’t really belong anywhere now.
I don’t belong in Jordan’s world of wealth and status. Even though he cares less about it than I do. But I also don’t belong in Staten Island. I’m not that girl from the block anymore, hanging out on the stoop watching life go by.
After Tommy takes off, I lock the door and head for Jordan’s bathroom. Right now, I need to wash the entire situation off of me. Tomorrow I’ll regroup, go see Dom. He might have an idea how to handle Tommy’s problem.
I run the shower, peel my clothes off, step in. I like to use his because I like the British bath gel he uses. I love how it smells like him. It’s comfort, and home, and everything that’s good in my life right now. When I’m with Jordan, it’s the only time I’m not dreading what new crisis I’m going to have to resolve, what fire to put out…what life needs saving.
The shower door swings open and the man I love stands there in all his wonderful naked glory. This man who was once a boy on the outskirts of life, barely holding on himself. Ironic that we come from two different worlds and yet we both had to fight our way out of our childhood.
He’s beautiful. A work of art. His chest sculpted naturally, muscles honed through combat and discipline. Eyes blazing with passion. That’s never in doubt––he’s so hard right now it looks painful.
“Come in. It’s getting cold.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in ages instead of ten hours ago. Like I’m the center of his world.
That I found him apathetic before is just plain dumb now that I know him. Jordan he has such a deep, explosive reserve of emotion that he needs to control it.
“You’re so fucking sexy. You drive me crazy,” he showers me with compliments between kisses. His hands sliding down my breasts, fingers tugging at my nipples while the others work down below, getting me ready for him.
He picks me up and pushes me against the gray slate wall, wraps my leg around his waist. There’s nothing gentle about the way Jordan makes love. There’s a primal quality to it––he moves on instinct. I don’t know how other men are––Jimmy was nice, sweet, and never once rocked my world––but this one is very dominant in bed. Like he stores it all up for me.
“If I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life I would.”
This declaration is made in all seriousness. I giggle and he bites down on the side of my neck, thrusts his hips and buries himself inside of me. A punishment and a gift. A blessing and a curse. It’s too much, too intense between us.