He glances up at me and I see a wicked smile starting on his lips.
“I might take you up on that, slut.”
“Bring it on, Sir.”
Chapter
Nineteen
GHOST
It’shard to describe exactly how I feel as we make our way back to Alessio's, the bare skin of his hand burning against mine for all the awareness I can’t seem to pull away from it. Have I ever held anyone’s hand like this before? I doubt it. It feels brand new and more exposed than every kinky sex act I’ve ever managed to think up. I might like it though… with Alessio, anyway.
My fingers threaded between his like we’re a couple of teenagers on our way to a fucking sock hop isn’t the only thing that feels raw and confusing and strangely exhilarating. We have a plan to take out the Sleepless Reapers, and I think there’s at least a seventy percent chance we’ll pull it off and all manage to walk away from it. And there’s Sparrow… my brother. The farther we get from their apartment, the less real that whole thing feels. What are the odds that we would both end up with Morettis? It almost feels like fate, if I believed in that kind of shit.
We reach Alessio’s building and another wave of “how is any of this real?” washes over me. How long can I stay herepretending like I belong living in a fucking penthouse? How long before my landlord realizes I haven’t paid up this month and sells off all my shit to the highest bidder? Not that he’ll get much. Half of what’s left in the apartment is the stuff that was left by the last tenant when I moved in, and the other half is mostly junk I couldn’t sell myself.
Alessio said he wants this to last, so I doubt he’s going to kick me out anytime soon, but as hard as I try, I can’t picture the future after the Sleepless Reapers are all gone. What the hell will I do with all my time? Sit around this plush apartment and wait for him to come home every night like some kind of Mafia wife? I shudder at the thought. It’s not like I have any skills other than murder. I don’t have a college degree either, at least as far as I know. So, what? I’ll get a job at the corner bodega selling breakfast sandwiches and cigarettes? Fuck, that’s bleak.
“You’re quiet.” His words jar me out of my thoughts, and I realize we’re already stepping off the elevator on his floor. “Are you freaked out about the whole Sparrow thing?”
He pulls his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door.
“Yes and no.” I toe off my boots and hang up my jacket, and he does the same.
Without my jacket or gloves, I feel even more exposed. The air conditioner hums quietly somewhere in the apartment, and the cool breeze against my skin makes it pebble and the hair on my arms stand on end. My hand twitches towards my jacket again. The urge to pull it back on and dull all the sensations that are too much is strong, but maybe it’s the kind of thing you have to let yourself feel until it isn’t so uncomfortable. Maybe letting myself stay a ghost for so long kept me detached and numb. Maybe coming back to life is supposed to hurt just a little, so you know you’re really alive.
I leave the jacket hanging on the hook and follow Alessio into the living room. He doesn’t press, but I can tell he’s hoping I’llsay more. Learning to put words to the jumbled mess inside my head because there’s someone who wants to hear it might take even more getting used to than the fact that I have a brother and a name.
I sit down, putting one foot up on the coffee table and slinging my arm along the back of the couch. I run my thumb absently over the soft leather, taking a small amount of comfort in the familiar feeling of it. Alessio goes over to the bar cart he has at the far end of the room near the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf and picks up a glass decanter full of amber liquid. He flips over a glass, takes the stopper off the top, then pauses and looks at me over his shoulder.
“Does it bother you if I drink around you?” he asks, and I can see a slow calculation happening behind his eyes. “You didn’t want to taste it on my mouth that first night we came home from Wonderland together.”
I nod and bounce my knee just a little.
“That’s right. But it wasn’t because of my sobriety. I think I could handle a little lingering flavor on your lips. Alcohol was never my main vice. I just avoid it to keep myself clear headed and out of trouble.” I let my free hand rest on my thigh and do a few quick little taps with each finger to ground myself inside my body, in this moment, before I say the next words. “It was because I was afraid that tasting alcohol on your mouth would trigger me, that it would remind me of the night I died. They kept pouring drinks down my throat even though I couldn’t breathe and could hardly swallow them, and every time they shoved their disgusting tongues into my mouth, I could taste the sour booze on their breath.”
I can see Alessio’s hand tighten around the bottle and his jaw tick. The murderous rage that wells up in his dark eyes helps ground me just as much as the tapping did.
“Maybe burning to death is too good for them,” he mutters, putting the stopper back and setting the decanter down without pouring himself a drink.
“At this point, I just want them dead,” I say darkly. “It’s not even about what they did to me anymore, it’s about stopping them from ever doing it to anyone else.”
He crosses the room to stand right in front of me, between me and the coffee table, between my slightly spread thighs. The intensity still shining in his eyes fills my chest with a warm feeling that chases away some of the chill of being so exposed. He starts to reach for me but stops himself. He really is perfect, isn’t he? Understanding, submissive, murderously protective. I never thought to dream of the future or someone I might be able to fall in love with, but here he is anyway, everything I would have wished for if I’d known there was room inside me for more than hate and revenge.
I grab his hand and guide it to my face. He cups my jaw gently, dragging his thumb back and forth over my stubble the same way I caressed the couch for a sense of comfort. Alessio leans down, bringing his lips an inch from mine.
“I want them to suffer,” he whispers.
A moan tightens my throat, and I wrap my fingers around his dangling tie to yank him forward that last inch and claim his lips in a rough kiss.
ALESSIO
Heat rushes through me and my cock swells eagerly as I give in to the demands of Spettro’s lips and tongue. There’s a new kind of desperation in the way he nips at my bottom lip and the soft growls he lets out that vibrate inside my mouth and along the surface of my skin. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but it feels likehe needs me, like I’m an anchor and he’s frantic for something to keep him from drifting away.
He tugs my tie loose as he plunders my mouth savagely, reminding me with every drag of his tongue against mine and every sharp, stinging bite that he fucking owns me. I brace my hands on the back of the couch, digging my fingers into the supple leather and imagining it’s his warm, bare skin. There’s no tremble in his hands now as he unbuttons my shirt and undoes my belt. My cock throbs against the warm, silky slide of my briefs, teasing my stiff shaft and sensitive tip.
Spettro’s bare knuckles brush against my hips as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pants, and a needy shudder runs through me. I moan around the tangle of our tongues, and he swallows the sound greedily before shoving my pants down around my thighs, leaving my silk briefs in place.