Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I really should have, you know, practiced what I was going to say to her before I actually got to the door.
Because what came out from between my lips was probably the worst fucking thing I could have said.
“Baby, are you out of your fucking mind?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Halle
I almost would have preferred to open the door to find the brothers standing there.
Instead of Cosimo.
Looking pissed.
I didn’t even try to say anything. I just reached for the door, ready to slam it in his face.
A mistake, obviously, because his hand shot out, pushing it open as he moved inside.
“Go away, Cosimo,” I said, taking a few steps back. “I don’t want your protection anymore,” I added, turning away from him, and making a beeline for my half-filled wineglass.
I had a feeling I was going to need it.
“Tough shit,” he snapped as I took a sip. “I don’t give a fuck if you want my protection anymore. You’re getting it.”
“You can’t force me back to your place,” I insisted.
“No?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that I didn’t trust.
“No.”
“Hm,” he said. “Not even if I had Lauren at my place?” he asked.
There was no way to hide my shock, even if I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“You kidnapped Lauren?” I hissed, my heartbeat thudding.
“Lauren went to my apartment in a taxi, and is waiting for you there.”
“No,” I objected. “No way.”
“Yes, yes way. It seems your friend is a fuckuva lot more rational than you are,” he said.
Lauren wasn’t riding the tumultuous waves of her emotions about this whole situation. She hadn’t had sex with Cosimo, then found herself feeling discarded and somehow unwanted by him. She hadn’t been hiding in her room, trying to avoid even running into him because she felt emotionally raw around him. And, apparently, completely incapable of fending off his advances, even if getting physical again was only going to complicate things.
“I’m not leaving with you,” I said, putting my wineglass down to cross my arms. “I’m done with you,” I added for emphasis.
“Are you?” he asked, head tipping to the side a bit as he regarded me.
“Yes. Believe me, I’ve had enough,” I added.
“Enough?” he asked, taking a step closer, then another.
I swear each inch he moved closer to me, he sucked up more of the air.
“More than,” I said with a little nod.
“Really?” he asked, now so close that I could feel his front brush mine. His hand rose, fingertips teasing over my chest. “So your heart is beating this fast because you’re done with me?” he asked. “And the way you’re trembling, that’s you having enough of me?” he asked, and, damn him, there was a little shiver coursing through me at his nearness.
My gaze slipped upward, wanting nothing more than to get lost in those deep eyes of his.
“I never said I didn’t want you,” I admitted. “I don’t want to want you.”
“I’m a dick,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed.
His hand slid behind my neck, fingers pressing into the tight muscles.
“I was raised by a real dick,” he told me, surprising me with the change of conversation. “He tried to beat anything that resembled softness out of me. Think maybe he succeeded more than I realized,” he confessed. “I can’t promise I’ll ever be an easy man to want, or to want to want,” he added, lips tipping up ever so slightly. “But, for you, I’m willing to try. And that’s more than I’ve ever given anyone before.”
I could see a young Cosimo at the hands of an overbearing, cruel father, someone who thought a man in the mafia couldn’t have emotions, couldn’t be kind. So he’d worked on beating Cosimo down, then rebuilding him into the image he wanted him to become.
The thing was, he hadn’t succeeded.
Not really.
Because there was kindness in Cosimo.
I’d seen little signs of it since I’d first officially met him.
And if he was willing to try to show me more of that, to fight against the coldness of his upbringing, the abuse of his father, that said something, didn’t it?
Because the Cosimo I knew didn’t seem to give a damn what others thought, or cared how he’d affected them.
But he cared about those things with me.
He wanted to work on those things for me.
I couldn’t ask for more than that.
All he could do was try.
And all I could do was let him.
“I’ll probably still be a dick sometimes,” he admitted.
I felt my lips twitch at that.
“I think it would require a lobotomy to change that,” I said, getting a little chuckle out of him. “I don’t care if you’re a dick,” I said. “I care that you’re not a dick to me.”
“That’s fair.”
“And there’ve been times when you haven’t been,” I admitted. “Which is probably the only reason things… have happened at all. But I don’t like being left feeling used. That’s never going to be okay with me,” I told him, feeling those stupid tears sting my eyes again.