End Game (11 page)

“Where’s your car?” I ask her.

Marisa shakes her head and clings to my side as I wrap an arm around her. “Came on the subway.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“I thought we were going to your place?”

My cock stiffens in my pants and I squeeze her side. “You’re wasted. It’s not going to happen.”

We walk slowly to the metro. She gives me a frustrated sigh. “Oh, please. Spare me your gentlemanly crap. Aren’t you supposed to take advantage of me?”

My chest shakes with laughter. “I told you that I’m a good guy.”

Marisa turns her blonde head to look at me thoughtfully. “You keep saying that.”

“Maybe because it’s true,” I say with a bit of an edge in my voice.

She stops in the street and turns in my arms, staring up at me with wide eyes. “No, it’s not. None of us are good. What I’m doing could get me locked up for a long time.”

I hadn’t thought of that. I’ve always looked at it as a consequence of the business. Yeah, I won’t lie to her, that’s a possibility. It happens.

But for a person who has lived straightedge their whole life—to be thrust into a life of crime, that must be overwhelming. Her whole body screams it. Her bottom lip shakes as she stares up at me, waiting for—what?

“You’re just trying to survive, hon. We’re all trying to survive.”

Me especially.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, does it?” I trace the edge of her bottom lip and she blinks rapidly and looks away.

“I’m so confused. My whole world’s been turned upside down.”

I felt like that when my sister died. Shit, I remember that she’s still trying to deal with her dad’s death. I take her hand in mine as she looks at me with a horrible, lost expression. I cup her cheek with my other hand.

“It’s best to keep moving.”

My hand drops from her face and I tug her hand, walking down the steps to the subway with her. We slide into the plastic seats and her head falls on my shoulder, her blonde hair spilling all over my jacket. I look at our reflection in the glass across me, and a strange feeling runs through me. It’s like seeing a ghost.

When we get to my car, she curls up in the passenger seat like a cat. It’s a pleasant, quiet drive, and every so often I glance at her darkened silhouette and wonder.

She’s still drunk when I walk her to her apartment, and she turns around with a determined air when we reach her door. Her small hands grab my tie again, but I hardly need any prompting to kiss her. Electricity shoots up my spine, when her soft lips brush against mine. My heart races and I can’t stop myself from exploring her body with my hands. The tightness of her black dress leaves little to the imagination and it’s almost like she’s naked in my arms, but it’s not nearly the same as having a naked girl in your lap to play with. Marisa kisses me like she needs it—needs me. It’s so goddamn hot.

“Come inside,” she whispers in a slight purr.

Want to. Can’t.

I shake my head stiffly and try not to think about the last time I had sex, or what her tits would feel like in my hands. “I don’t fuck drunk chicks.”

“You could just sleep over. We don’t have to do anything.”

I pin my arms on either side of her head. “If I go in there, I know I’ll fuck you. I’ve self-control, but not that much.”

Not when a hot girl is practically throwing herself at me.

Dude, shut up and just fuck her.

“You just sober up and think about it,” I say in a soft voice. “If you still want my cock inside you, well, that can be arranged.”

“Shit,” she hisses, her face burning so brightly that it’s like a beacon.

I’m not trying to be a rude bastard, but she turned me on and now my head is filled with all the things I’d love to do to her body, and I can’t help it—I haven’t had sex in months. Suddenly I am vividly aware of that small fact.

“Joe,” she whispers, raking her hands up and down my chest. Her lips are slightly red from kissing me and just that alone makes my cock jump in my pants.

I take her hands in mine and hold them away from me as a growl leaves my throat. “I can’t. I am really sorry, but I can’t.”

You
’
re a fucking moron. Just fuck her!

She shakes her head slightly. “Why are you so—why are you doing this?”

“I’m supposed to watch out for you, remember?”

Her eyes look overlarge as she stares up at me, suddenly fearful. “Do you mean it?”

“Yeah, of course. Why? What’s going on?”

“Don’t ever leave me alone with him.”

The way she says
him
leaves no doubt who it is. Her brother. That psycho. I get a cold, nauseating feeling in my throat whenever I think of him. I’ve known guys like him and they never change. They just get better at covering their tracks.

“He scares me. He always has.”

I run my knuckles along her jaw. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Tomorrow I’m supposed to meet him for lunch. Can you come with me?”

Of course I can, but that doesn’t mean I can’t play with her. “What are you going to give me in return?”

Her eyes widen. “Um—you want money?”

The hallway echoes with my laughter. I shake my head. “I don’t want your money.”

“What, then?”

“You. I want you.”

My hand wraps around her head and she gasps in pain as I grab her hair. My mouth descends over hers and she sighs into my mouth. It’s like I’ve just taken a hit of coke. My heart races forward, miles ahead. And then I reach around her back and grab her sweet little ass.

“Joe!”

God, I’ve completely lost it.

All control.

“You’ll be my plaything in return for my protection. Those are my terms, sweetheart.” I plant another kiss on her stunned face. “Take it or leave it.”

“I—I thought you had to help me regardless—”

“You thought wrong.”

Her throat moves up and down. I’ve stunned her into silence. “I guess you’re not such a good guy after all.”

MARISA

BAM! BAM! BAM!

My head jerks from the pillow and I wipe drool from my mouth. There’s a fist hammering at my door, mimicking the pounding in my head. God, what happened last night? It’s a confusing blur of shapes and sounds, and somehow I untangle the confusing web as I sit up in bed, blinking blearily at the sun. I catch a glimpse of myself on the mirror near my bed. I look like a horror show.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Who the fuck—oh, it’s probably my maid service. I changed all the locks when the mafia guys broke into my apartment and never gave the maids the new key. My insides freeze as I wrap a robe around myself. God, that’s probably how they got in. I should fire them.

The cold floor stings my bare feet as I tie the robe and head towards the door, which rattles slightly. I unlock it and open the door.

Joe.

The sight of him lounging over my doorway takes my breath away. He wears a white t-shirt that shows off his rippling biceps and a pair of dark jeans. I didn’t expect him to be here. His dark hair sweeps over warm brown eyes and dark stubble, which covers his face and neck. That deep sadness that I noticed the first time I met him lingers in his hooded eyes, but they brighten slightly when he sees me.

My hand slips slightly on the door when he gives me a smile that makes the skin on my neck tingle. I remember the scratch of his face against my cheek when he kissed me last night. Oh God, I kissed him. I practically ripped off his pants.

“Good afternoon,” he says in a pleasant rumble as he looks me up and down. “Or morning, I should say.”

A flush fills my cheeks as I realize how horrible I must look. “What are you doing here?”

He straightens and crosses his arms. “You asked me to come to your brother’s lunch meeting.”

Lunch meeting. Crap. Yes, I vaguely remember saying something.

“It’s eleven.”

Oh, crap!

I step aside and he moves in smoothly. He closes the door and takes my shoulders, and I feel my heart hammering somewhere in my throat. My skin burns at the contact of his fingers.

“How much do you remember of last night?”

My breath hitches in my chest as he surrounds me with his presence. There’s something about him that’s deeply terrifying and exciting as hell. Blood races through my veins just at the sound of his voice. Somehow, he’s gotten way under my skin. I don’t know why. There’s no question that he’s sexy as hell, but he’s dangerous. His boss threatened my brother and sister, threatened me. Why the hell would I entertain anything more than business with this guy?

“Some.”

By the self-assured way he acts around me—the dark smile on his face, I know that he remembers everything. And he won’t forget anytime soon.

“I really need to get ready.” I gesture wildly around the place. “Make yourself at home or whatever. I’m going to take a shower.”

Tight fingers close over my wrist and yank hard. I squeal as my body bumps against Joe’s hard one. Heart hammering, I can’t say a word as he looks down at me. He gives me a look that some men get when they’ve seen you naked. Joe acts like I already belong to him.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easily.” Then he gives me a knowing smirk, as if he can hear my thoughts, and lets me go. “You sure you don’t need help getting ready?”

Suddenly an image of myself pressed against the fogged glass walls of the shower with Joe in between my legs fills my mind. My chest heats and Joe’s slick smile widens.

“No—I mean, yes!”
Dammit
!

Joe’s soft chuckle fills the foyer and I lead him into the living room.

I’ve got to end this.

“Listen, last night was a mistake, all right? I don’t want to get involved with you.”

I watch him, heart hammering, expecting him to shout and storm out of the apartment, but he merely looks at me. “Yeah, whatever.”

My voice hardens. “I mean it, Joe.”

“No, you don’t. You may have been drunk, but that doesn’t mean your feelings weren’t real.”

I sputter as he lounges on the couch, apparently at ease. He’s not wrong—I know that from the way heat fills my body from a soft look from him, a touch. It’s like stepping into a warm bath.

He looks under the coffee table and smiles. What’s he looking at?

Oh, God. The slippers.

“What’s this?”

If I was embarrassed before, I definitely am now. My face is hot to the touch, like a burner left on high. I’m too mortified to speak.

The absurd fuzzy, pink slippers with huge yellow toes sit underneath the coffee table. Joe laboriously removes his leather shoes and immediately swaps them for the slippers. They’re way too small for him, but he curls his toes in them and laughs. I cringe from the sound.

“They’re slippers from that kid show, Randy the Rhino. I used to be a big fan.”

“You still are, apparently.” He smiles grimly. “I liked the rooster from Looney Tunes.”

“Foghorn Leghorn?” I gasp.

“Yeah.” His voice takes a melancholy turn and the smile somewhat drops from his face. “My sister loved Looney Tunes. We’d watch it every Sunday.”

“Me too.”

I shouldn’t feel anything for him, but this stupid connection with kid cartoons and the way he reacted to my dumb slippers makes me like him just a little bit more.

Joe’s face darkens as he stares out of the window. He kicks off the slippers and ties his shoes back on.
He lays an arm over the head of the couch and I suddenly feel a strong desire to sit down with him. Instead, I turn around stiffly and enter the bathroom. I slowly strip myself of my clothes and lean in the shower to twist the taps. Within seconds, steam fogs the glass and I step inside the hot spray.

It’s strange to be naked in here while he’s out there. I lather my loofah and wash myself, aware of how sensitive my body feels.

It’s fucked up. I should stay far away from him.

But how can I?

I barely know anything about him, just that he’s a soldier in the Vittorio family. We don’t have anything in common, really. I don’t need to know him to want him, do I?

You
’
ll be my plaything in return for my protection. Those are my terms, sweetheart.

My hand freezes in the middle of washing my inner thigh as Joe’s voice rasps into my head. I remember everything.

Oh, God. He didn’t
mean
it, did he?

I shut off the water as a shiver runs through my body that has nothing to do with cold. What’s wrong with me? I shouldn’t be aroused by the idea of him using me, but I am. There’s something incredibly hot about being desired by someone so dangerous. He’s still part of an organization that’s choking Dad’s company—my company, whose reputation is being poisoned by our association with them. And they’ve all made it clear that I don’t have a choice. I’m stuck with them indefinitely.

Shit.

I wrap towels around my body and pat down my hair. My hair protests as I attack it with a comb, untangling everything before letting it drape down my back. I turn around to hang it back on the rack and Joe’s standing in the doorway.

“Fuck!”

My scream bounces harshly off the tiles and I snatch the towel back, wrapping it around myself.

“What are you
doing
?” I gasp.

“Watching you,” he says in a husky voice as he enters inside the humid bathroom, his eyes filled with greed. “You are sexy as hell.”

Joe looks down my neck where the towel barely covers my nipples. My skin burns hot from his gaze.

“Don’t be disgusting. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“Oh, really? Then why did you leave the door unlocked?”

My mouth parts as I stare into his smiling, irritating face. “I—I didn’t mean to.”

“Or subconsciously you
wanted
me to come in here.” He steps forward and makes a sudden hissing sound that makes my core clench. “I want to fuck your brains out right now.”

Vulgar language like that normally makes me taste bile, but from him, a hot line runs from the middle of my back to the space between my legs.

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

I don’t allow guys to talk to me like this, period. Dad would have never rubbed shoulders with a guy like
him
. It’s so crude—so vulgar, but damn it if it doesn’t make my heart leap against my chest.