Bad Boy: Valetti Crime Family (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance) (25 page)

I
shut the door
, dropping my keys in the glass bowl on the end table, and drag my ass over to sink down on the couch. It’s been a long fucking day. I wince as I scrape the wound on my arm against the rough fabric of the sofa. I suck in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Fucking asshole made me chase him through the woods, all for what? A couple hundred bucks he stole from his parents? Seriously? It fucking pisses me off. I’m so fucking tired of dealing with junkies and this stupid shit. What’s worse is I know he’ll be out soon. Only to get hauled back in later. I lean my head back against the couch.

I put my hands on my forehead, and try to let the stress leave me. This isn’t what I thought being a cop would be like. I shake my head and forget that shit. I knew this was going to be hard. It’s not what’s eating me. I know exactly why I’m all fucked up. It’s because I have no leads to the only case I really care about.

My heart twists in my chest. I don’t want to think about him. I’ve been trying to avoid it, but he keeps haunting me. I don’t know what hurts worse, the fact that he could end this pain for me, or the fact that he’s gotten to me. I haven’t been with anyone in so long. I don’t remember it feeling like this. But then again, I’ve never been dumped like that either.

I snort, and force my tired body off the sofa. Like we were seeing each other. As if I mattered to him.

My gut drops, and I find myself regretting it. But I can’t stand that. I don’t like regret. I do what feels right, and I don’t do what feels wrong. It’s my own insurance policy so that I never regret anything.

At any point in my past, I know whatever I was doing was exactly what I wanted. At least right then and there. And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t love every minute of Tommy fucking me. I came alive under him. I smile, remembering how loud his bed was. I shake my head and open my fridge looking for a snack or something.

It sucked though, when it was over. I look at the half gallon of milk and the rest of my practically-empty fridge and frown. I close the door and try to shake off this shit feeling. I don’t hold it against him. It never should’ve happened. But it still fucking hurt.

I’m not going to let him stop me from getting to the bottom of Petrov’s case though. I’m sure as fuck going to avoid him like the plague though. I need to get him out of my head. If anyone at the station found out what happened between us, I’d be fucked.

I feel like a bitch for judging all of them and how hard they are after years of doing this shit. No wonder they look at me like I don’t belong. Fuck! I lean my head against the fridge and breathe in and out slowly. I can’t shake this negativity. I can’t get out of my own fucking head. I’m second-guessing everything, and feeling like shit as a result. I need to stop. But I don’t know how.

I slowly open my eyes as I hear a loud knock at my door.

My heart stills in my chest. I have no clue who would come over here this late at night. I wait with anxiety trickling through my limbs for a voice. But I don’t hear anything. I walk silently, but quickly to the end table and pick up my gun where I left it. I hold it down and walk steadily as I hear a loud knock again.

Bang
.
Bang
.
Bang
! On the third, I hear his voice say, “Open up, Tonya.” Relief washes through my body and I almost put the gun down, but then I think twice.

I look at it in my hands and remember how angry the other members of the Valetti
familia
were. In two days, I’ve managed to piss off more men than my mom has in her entire life. That's saying something.

“I know you’re in there, you may be a bad girl, but I don’t want you pushing me right now.” His voice doesn’t come out hard, but it's not playful either. It’s almost a little worried. Like he’s fairly confident that I’ll answer him, but scared that I won’t.

I like that.

I like making him wait. Not because I don’t want to answer him, I do. The wild side of me is jumping at the chance to answer him. But I also like keeping him on edge.

I put the gun down on the end table. It may be stupid, but I don’t care right now. I walk to the door and unlock it. I wait a second to see if he’ll open it. But he doesn’t. He respects that boundary. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t let myself go back to how it was before. This is going to be professional.

I open the door and curse myself as my eyes land on his hard, muscular body. Fuck, I want him. I want all of him. I close my eyes and don’t open them as he speaks.

“What are you doing snooping around?” He gets right to the point, and anger rises within me. Enough so that I can stare back at him.

“Snooping around?” I’m not snooping. I’m simply trying to get answers.

“You need to knock it off.” His voice is stern and admonishing. It pisses me off, but also lights something else in me. Something I need to let die.

“I don’t need to do anything, and as far as you’re concerned, you weren’t giving me what I needed, so I had to go somewhere else.” I know the double meaning there. And I hate that it slipped out. I feel fucking pathetic.

His eyebrows raise, and he looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up, but I can see he’s angry. “Is that so?” he says with a neutral tone.

I start backpedaling the best I can and say, “I need answers for my own sanity.”

“You’re a cop, you think they’re going to give you anything?” He raises his voice as he continues to lay into me, “They’re not like me, Tonya. They aren’t going to treat you like I do.”

“So they aren’t going to fuck me and then toss me aside?” I’m so fucking bitter I can’t help but spit it out. I don’t feel any anger toward him, but apparently some part of me does.

“Is that what you want from them?” he asks.

“Fuck off, Thomas.” I start to close the door. I don’t have the energy for this. If he’s not going to help me, fine. If he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, that’s fine, too.

Thomas stops the door and pushes it open so he can lean in. “What the fuck? You trying to piss me off, Officer Kelly?” I don’t like the way he’s saying my name. Like he’s asking if he’s talking to me or someone else, someone who he doesn’t trust. I’ve never been anything but honest with him.

“What do you want?” I ask with irritation coloring my voice, but I’m not irritated. I’m hurt. I want him to say, “You.” I want him to come in and take me. I want him to make everything better. And that realization makes me feel weak. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“I wanna come in and talk.”

“Now you wanna talk?” I shake my head and try to push down the bit of hope growing in my chest. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be hoping. This can’t happen.

“You gonna let me in?” he asks, like I might actually say yes.

“No.” I shake my head and open my eyes, making sure to only look at his face. The thought of him coming in here only makes me want to test whether or not he can make my bed creak and groan like he did his. This is bad. Real fucking bad.

“Why the fuck not?” He sounds all pissed off.

“‘Cause I don’t have to, that’s why.” I'm flippant as I say it.

“Don’t push me, baby.” He narrows his eyes at me as he says it.

“I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.” I at least have a little pride knowing that those words came out strong.

“With a mouth like that, right now you’re my bad girl. That’s all you are.” My pussy clenches at his words. I can’t help that it turns me on. But I have to remember that this can’t happen. This is wrong.

“Bad things will happen if you come in here.” I tell him the truth and regret it when his eyes heat with lust and his lips pull into a smirk.

“You want me that much? You really can’t control yourself?” he asks with a cocky grin.

It pisses me off. And I hold on to that anger so I can push him away like I know I should.

“Fuck you!” I grab the edge of the door and try to slam it shut, but hit boot hits the door, blocking it.

For the first time ever in his presence, I feel scared. I don’t know why, but a sense of danger takes ahold of every part of me, and I race to get to my gun. I grip it with both hands and point it at him as he takes a step inside.

His eyes go wide when he sees the gun pointed at him. He raises both of his hands, “Whoa, baby, what are you doing? Put the gun down.”

My hands tremble slightly, and I feel so fucking insecure. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t trust anything that I’m feeling. My hand starts shaking. It’s never done that. I’ve always had control. But I’ve never been in this situation before, either. I don’t even know why I grabbed it.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He keeps his hands raised. “You really want me to go? I’ll go.”

I don’t know what I want. I slowly aim the gun down and keep my head down. I’ve fucked this up so fucking bad.

“I know I push you. I didn’t mean to threaten you though.” I watch in my periphery as he walks toward me like one would a wounded animal. And that’s exactly how I feel. I’m so fucked up. So worn out and torn.

“I’d never hurt you, Tonya.” I shouldn't believe him, but I do. He reaches out slowly and grabs my gun. I think about resisting, but I don't want to. He gently places it on the end table and looks at me like he doesn't know what to do with me.

He takes his gun out, making sure to point it away from me and quickly sets it on the end table next to mine.

He cups my chin in my hand. “I’m sorry I pushed you like that. I really thought you were just pushing me back.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say weakly, and look up at him through my thick lashes.

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I don’t either, baby.” He lowers his lips to mine. He whispers with his full lips barely touching my own, “I won’t hurt you. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you, either.”

I open my eyes and see sincerity in his dark stare.

“You gotta stay away, though.” My gaze drops to the floor. I try to push him away, but it’s a weak and useless effort.

“Not from me.” His words pull me back from the defeated place I’d sunk to. “I want you. But they can’t know. No one can know, and you need to stay away from them.”

His chest rises and falls, and his breathing is the only thing I can hear other than my own heart thumping in my chest.

This is dangerous. It’s forbidden. But I want it. I want him.

“Tell me you want me, baby.” His voice is confident, but I can tell he needs the reassurance. He needs me to tell him I want him, too. And I do. I desperately want him.

“I want you.” Before the last word leaves my lips, his hands grip my hips and he pulls me under him as he falls onto the sofa.

His fingers tickle my skin as they travel under my shirt, slowly lifting it up past my breasts.

“I'll make you feel better, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. Please. I need to feel better.

“You’re just too tempting. I fucking need you under me.” He stares at my breasts as he pulls the cup of my bra down and pinches my hardened nubs. It sends a direct shot of need to my clit.

A soft smile plays at his lips, but he looks into my eyes with concern.

“You really thought I’d hurt you?” He pulls my shirt over my head, taking the bra with it and lifts me into his lap. His arms wrap around my waist as he leans back against the sofa.

I feel ashamed, so I try to look away, but he cups my face and turns my head so I have to look at him. “Don’t do that.”

“I'm sorry,” I say barely above a murmur. I am. I'm so damn sorry.

He smirks a bit and says playfully, “I had it coming, messing with a bad girl like you.”

He takes my lips with his, and I feel every emotion crash down around me. The only one left standing is lust. I moan into his parted lips and let his hands roam my body. I need him to take me away. I need to
feel
something else.

He tosses me backward and climbs between my legs, ripping off everything in his way. I want to close my legs, but I don't. The look of hunger in his eyes keeps my legs spread wide for him. He licks his lips and gently runs a finger down my hip bone and over my clit. My body shudders under his touch, and his lips twitch into a satisfied smile as he lowers his lips to my pussy.

His deft fingers pump in and out of me while he sucks my clit. My eyes roll back in my head as my back bows and I struggle with my composure. It’s so intense. Too intense. My body begs me to move away, not knowing if I’ll be able to stand the power of the orgasm he’s forcing out of me. My fingers dig into the couch and scratch along his back.

He pulls away as my thighs loosen, and the sight of him is nearly enough that I cum just from looking at him. His chiseled frame is all ripped muscle, with his left arm covered in intricate tattoos. His eyes are intense with his own need, and his breath comes in pants. He stares at my pussy in awe as he curls his fingers and mercilessly rubs my G-spot. His thumb presses down on my clit and I find my body trying to turn away. It’s too much. I can’t stand the overwhelming sensation.

“Don’t you move,” he says while withdrawing his fingers. My eyes pop open and my breath finally comes back to me.

“I didn’t mean to.” I’m so ready. I want him so fucking bad. I was so close. So fucking close.

He smirks at me and backhands my clit. My back arches, but my pussy clamps down on nothing. I need it. I’m so close.

“Bad girl,” he says with a smirk. If he wasn’t so fucking hot, and I wasn’t so delirious with my own needs, I’d tell him off. Instead I bite my lip and wait with bated breath for him to take me over the edge. “Hold still.” He lowers his head and relief flows through me, but it’s immediately replaced with the tingling sensation of every inch of my skin being lit aflame.

He laps at my pussy, and gently places his thumb against my ass. My mouth opens as the foreign sensation of him pushing against me adds to the intensity of his tongue massaging my clit. My eyes close, and my lips part. My breathing comes in ragged pants as he starts fucking my ass and sucking my clit at the same time. It’s too much. So fucking overwhelming.