Rough Stuff Page 4

  Rumors or not, I still have no fucking clue what the deal is with him and Quinn. I mean she’s gorgeous — a fucking angel with fire hair and green eyes. But she’s also not a gold-digger. I know women like that — the ones with the lying eyes and the hungry look on their faces. Quinn ain’t that though. Not by a mile. Her look more says that she has to be here — that there are rules keeping her from leaving, not the promise of a payout.

  I watch them, looking at the body language, reading the signals like I’ve always done, especially since the Marines. Yeah, that’s a wild one. There’s no connection there between them. None. And more and more, this rumor about how he got her — that he won her or some shit — starts to make sense.

  He might’ve won her, but I fucked her. I touched a part of her I know no other man has ever touched. That’s not me being cocky either, that’s just knowing what I saw with her because it’s how I felt inside. Because no other woman has ever affected me the way she has. No one else has sunk in so deep inside, etched into my damn skin like a tattoo.

  Shit. This is bad. I’m her bodyguard now. I can’t even think about what we had last night. I can't even ever revisit that in my head or it could mean my life. Maybe torture first. Probably torture first. Definitely torture first. I watched Gino stick a guy’s hand in fucking battery acid a month ago, all the way up to the damn elbow — the poor bastard screaming and clawing at the guys holding him as the acid melted his flesh away. And that shit was over a missing payment on a gambling debt for one-hundred grand. He did that shit for a hundred thousand dollars. I mean fuck, Gino wipes his ass with that kind of money.

  …What the fuck is he going to burn off of me when he finds out I fucked his wife?

  Lunch takes another half hour. A half hour of me nursing three sips of a beer and doing everything in my power not to stare at the two of them. When they’re done, they both stand. Gino leans in and kisses her cheek, and I swear I almost break the fucking bottle in my fist.

  Fuck, I’m in more trouble than I thought. And I don’t mean with Gino, I mean with her.

  What happened last night should have been something wild for the memory banks. It should have been this crazy story I tell my buddies over beers at some point — that hot, gorgeous, wildcat of a girl who banged me in an alleyway. I mean, shit, that’s a story for the ages. Except, somehow, it’s more than that. It’s way more than that, and I’m not even going to try and lie to myself that it isn’t.

  And suddenly, I’m not worried about what Gino might do to me. I’m worried about what Quinn already has done to me. I’m a hard man. I’ve got fucking scars, and baggage, and letting a woman slip inside my chest like this isn’t something I even know how to deal with. Because it’s never happened. And I sure as fuck didn’t imagine it happening with some crazy, wild, dirty fling.

  Fuck.

  Gino leaves, and Quinn turns to eye me with a nod. I get up, marching past her with my jaw clenched tight and my hands curled to fists.

  “Let’s go.”

  I’m cold to her, silent as we walk back to the SUV. There’s no sass this time, she just gets into the back of the Escalade, letting me open and close the door wordlessly before I get behind the wheel and start the engine. We drive home in silence. No more banter, no more bullshit. Because I can’t. Not with her. Again, it’s not even Gino I’m worried about right now. Because if I want to stay alive, I know it’s going to mean keeping my distance from her.

  So that’s the job now. Do what I’m supposed to do. Drive her where she needs to be. Keep my mouth shut, my head down, and pray I don’t get dragged into the desert and shot in the—

  “He’s not my husband, you know.”

  Her voice comes quietly from the backseat, softly breaking the silence as we pull onto her street.

  “What?”

  “He’s not my husband. I mean not like…not really. Not how you’re thinking.”

  I pull into Gino’s driveway and kill the engine.

  “Enlighten me,” I growl, turning to look at her.

  “You’ve heard the rumor.”

  “It’s not my job to hear rumors.”

  “Yeah, but you’ve heard them.”

  My eyes dart across her face, trying to see where she’s going with this.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, they’re only half right. There wasn’t a bet.”

  My brow perks up.

  “My father was a driver for Gino,” she says quietly. “He ran off with a truckload of Gino’s cocaine and two million of Gino’s cash, and—” she smiles grimly, spreading her hands “—and well, here I am.”

  “Collateral,” I hiss through clenched teeth, the fury boiling inside of me. She’s fucking collateral. She’s what he took when he couldn’t get his drugs and his money back.

  “Something like that.”

  I look away. “That’s fucked up, but it still makes you marri—”

  “He’s never touched me.”

  The words blurt from her mouth in a rush. And I hear them, but it still sends something hot and fierce scorching through me, burning me with this green, jealous fire like I’ve never felt before.

  “We’re not talking about this—”

  “I mean he’s literally never touched me.”

  I stop, blinking as I turn back to her. “Hold on. What?”

  “Gino. We…” She swallows, glancing out the tinted windows. “We sleep in different rooms and we’ve never, you know. Ever.”

  My brow wrinkles. “You’ve been married for like two years.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “How the fuck is that even poss—”

  “Gino doesn’t want me for a wife.” She takes a slow, shaky breath. Then another one, before she drags her eyes up to mine.

  “He wants me for a cover.”

  Wait, what?

  “For what?”

  Quinn shivers, looking away and glancing out the window again. “I— I can’t—”

  “Yes you can.”

  She swallows, her teeth raking over her bottom lip as she looks out the window. She takes a deep breath before she turns back to me, her eyes wide and locked on mine.

  “I’m married to Gino as a cover. For him.”

  “Quinn, what are you—”

  “Gino’s gay.”

  Chapter 5

  Quinn

  Quinn

  Fear shoots through me as I jump from the car, slamming the door behind me as I go running up the stairs to the house.

  I actually just said that out loud.

  I know the man I’ve married. I’ve seen what he’s capable of first hand. Hell, I’ve felt what he’s capable of, and I’ve gotten bruises to prove it. And what I just spilled to Roman is a secret no one knows — not even his closest advisors. Gino told me the deal a week after our “marriage” — I mean, he’d have to, right? Eventually, it was going to get weird that I had my own room and he never tried anything.

  So, the ruthless man I’m shackled to has no interest in me, at least not like that. I know its 2018 but Gino is old school, and so is the mob in general. Gino has his own interests, but no one else can know about them, because it would ruin that whole “macho” image these mob guys like to keep up. I mean, I’ve known some pretty tough men who happen to be gay, but try telling that to old-school Italian mob guys.

  And me? Well, I’m the cover. The “beard” you might have said in a different time. But none of this changes the fact that Gino is dangerous. He didn’t get to be the top of the family by being nice. He did it by being ruthless. And telling me the truth wasn’t an act of kindness or him opening up to me. It was a threat, plain and simple. It doesn’t matter that he’s never touched me, or that there’s no love there at all. It doesn’t matter that I’m just his cover. Me spilling his secret would be treasonous in his eyes. And if he found out about last night? And Roman? Well, I’d be dead. And in many pieces across many places.

  I shiver, biting my lip. I may just be his cover, but he’d see it as an affr
ont to his pride. He’d see it as a threat to his control over the family.

  “Hold the fuck on.”

  Roman kicks the front door open right after me, following me into the foyer of the big house. “What did you just say?”

  “Please,” I plead, turning to look up into those big, dark, gorgeous eyes. I don’t know why I’m telling him. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me — that fierce fire in his eyes that doesn’t just make me shiver with heat but actually makes me feel safer. Maybe being in his arms last night was the safest and most protected I’ve felt in years.

  “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

  Roman eyes me silently, the stillness of the empty house echoing around us.

  “Then why did you?” he finally growls.

  “I— I don’t know.” I say quietly, shaking my head.

  “So you’re his cover.”

  I nod.

  “And I’m betting he’d still go nuclear if he knew about last night.”

  “Oh, you think so?”

  A grim look crosses Roman’s face. “Because cover or not, publicly, you’re still that asshole’s girl.”

  I look down, and Roman swears under his breath.

  “So that’s why you went there last night? That what you were looking or?”

  “I—” I bite my lip, twisting my hands together as the blush creeps into my cheeks. “I don’t know what I was looking for.”

  “Yes you do.”

  I gasp as he closes the distance between us, pushing me back until I’m against the banister for the big sweeping curved staircase.

  “I think you know exactly what you were looking for last night.”

  “I thought I did,” I pant, my heart racing at the nearness of him. His hands move up to me, hovering over me, not quite touching me like he’s still holding back. But then it’s like the last of his willpower caves, and when his hands clasp my waist tight and pin me to the banister as he moves against me, it’s like he’s grabbing what’s his. And my body melts under his touch.

  “But then, you found it.” His deep, rumbling voice teases through me, making me gasp quietly as he moves in, leaning down into me as his big frame towers over me.

  “I— I don’t know.”

  “Yes you do.”

  His lips crush to mine, and when I moan into his mouth, I know I’m not even going to pretend that I want to fight this. I know kissing him is the most real thing I’ve ever felt.

  Fuck, this is bad. This is dangerous. This could get us both killed.

  …And I can’t stop

  Chapter 6

  Roman

  Fuck it.

  I kiss her with everything I have, and whatever happens from here, bring it the fuck on. There’s no fear, no bullshit, and no shadows hanging over this kiss, it’s just her and me.

  And damn if it doesn’t send me reeling.

  I growl, holding her tight and pressing her into the banister at the bottom of the big, grand curved staircase. Her body arches into me, her hips rolling under my firm hands and her full, soft breasts brushing my chest through our shirts. I’d say I’m hard in seconds, but I was hard before I even kissed her. And when I press against her, I know she can feel it. I know she can feel the cock that made her scream last night.

  Fuck, last night. The memory of it flashes through me like wildfire as my tongue pushes past her lips to swirl with hers. Last night wasn’t just a screw. I know it damn well should have been, especially given the circumstances, and the place, and the wild way we just crashed together like that. But it wasn’t just some wild fling. It fucking stuck with me. It sliced me to my core.

  Knowing who she is now should push me away. But all it’s doing is throwing gasoline on that fire she started last night.

  Maybe it’s not being able to hold back from tasting her mouth another second. Maybe it’s the thrill of knowing how fucking wrong this is. Maybe it’s knowing the situation with Gino, and what this “marriage” is, taking the pressure away from me feeling like a scumbag. Hell, maybe it’s all those things.

  But whatever it is, I kiss her like I’m never going to stop kissing her.

  My hands squeeze her soft, perfect body through her skirt and her loose, sleeveless top. I press into her, pinning her to the banister at her back with my large frame. She whimpers into my lips, rolling her hips into mine, and I know she can feel how fucking hard I am.

  …I know she can feel how fucking hard she makes me.

  She moans into my mouth, writhing against me before she pulls away, gasping, her face red and her eyes locked on mine.

  “We— we can’t do this,” she all but whispers, swallowing the heat from her face as she shakes it slowly.

  But I don’t move away. I don’t pull back. Fuck, nothing could drag me away from her right now.

  “I’m pretty fucking bad at playing by the rules, sweetheart.”

  She whimpers as I move against her again, her wild green eyes going wide and that flame hair blazing around her face.

  “Well maybe I don’t want to do this.” She says it quickly, without even trying to make the words sound like she means them. Maybe it's one last chance she’s trying to give herself — one last excuse for something we both know we’re powerless to resist.

  “But you do,” I groan, feeling the heat between her legs even through her skirt as she rolls her hips into mine and gasps softly.

  “Says who?” she whispers breathlessly.

  “Says the fact that I know that sweet pussy of yours is already so fucking nice and wet for me.”

  She whimpers.

  “Says the fact that I know if I grab here—” My hand slides around to grip her ass firmly. “And if I pull here…” I bring my other hand up and slid it around into the back of her long red tangles. I twist that hair into a fist, pulling her head back and making her gasp and moan.

  I groan, my cock throbbing at the control she gives me and at the way she simultaneously brings me to my damn knees.

  “You think you can just talk filthy to me and I’ll just—”

  “No, I know that if I talk filthy to you that I’ll have you so wet it’ll be dripping down your thighs.”

  “And just what makes you so sure you make me wet?”

  We both pause, hovering like we’re waiting on the edge of a cliff and about to tumble off. I can feel my pulse roaring through me, and I know this is the moment. This is the moment where we either stop with what already happened — a really stupid mistake that we could both forget, never speak of, and maybe survive. But if we keep going, it’s not the once. It’s not the mistake.

  If we keep going from this moment on, it’s never gonna fuckin’ stop, and I damn well know it.

  …Which is exactly why I crush my lips back to hers and kiss her like she’s mine.

  “What makes me so sure I make you wet?” I groan, pulling away from her. “Well, why don’t we just find out.”

  She whimpers as I pin her to the banister with one hand tangled in her hair, holding her there as the other one drops to her waist. I find the little clip on her skirt, and I pop it. I find the zipper, and I tug that down. Quinn gasps as the whole thing tumbles to pool at her feet and I groan at the sight of her skin. My hand teases over her hip, moving across her soft belly, feeling my cock throb as she trembles against me. I slide one thick finger down, tracing from her navel down lower and lower, until it hooks on the lacy edge of her little black panties.

  I stop, and my eyes drag to hers.

  “Moment of truth,” I growl.

  “So what are you waiting for?” she whispers fiercely.

  Nothing. I’m not waiting a single second more before getting my hands on that sweet cunt between her pretty thighs. My finger hooks into the panties, pushing them down. I tug a little more, the thin, lacy fabric rolling over her skin and off of her hips until they drop to tangle at her knees. My eyes move back to hers, holding her panting, fevered gaze as my fingers trace over her thigh, and move between them.

  Fuc
k.

  I groan as my fingers slide over her slick, dripping wet pussy. Fuck she’s soaked. Quinn gasps as my finger teases over her, easily parting her lips and sliding between them. I trace the pad of my finger back up, bumping it over her clit and making her hiss in pleasure as her hips arch towards me and her hands tighten on my arms.

  “Fuck, Quinn,” I groan, pushing my finger lower and curling it against her opening. I ease inside, and she cries out as she crashes her lips to mine and kisses me hungrily. God, teasing her is fun. That and I can feel her getting wetter. And when I start to curl my finger in and out of her, I can feel her slick pussy gripping me so tight, trying to suck my finger back inside.

  “Now what am I going to do with a naughty little girl with her panties around her knees and her slick, messy pussy dripping all over my fingers?”

  “I think fucking her brains out again might be a good place to start.”

  Her eyes go wide, her cheeks reddening like she almost can’t believe she even said it out loud. Oh, but I hear it alright. I hear it and my cock throbs so hard I feel like it’s going to tear a hole through my jeans.

  We freeze like that, like it’s one more pause before the storm. But just like that, we slam back together, moaning into each other’s lips as we tear at the clothes keeping us apart. I rip her top — literally rip it and send the buttons flying as she moans hungrily. Her matching lacy black bra clasps at the front, and when I pop that, I groan as her sweet breasts are bared to me.

  Fuck, she’s an angel. Soft, porcelain skin. Dusky pink nipples, hard like little pebbles on the soft slope of her breast. Begging for my attention. Begging for my mouth.

  My lips drop to her neck, biting, sucking, and tasting her skin as she writhes against me. Her hands tear at my shirt, yanking it off my head and tossing it away before they move to my jeans. She whimpers, cupping my thick cock through the denim and stroking me as I curl two fingers deep inside of her velvety pussy.

  My mouth drops more, kissing over the swell of her tits until my lips find an achingly hard nipple. I suck it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as she cries out and yanks at my belt. Her hands slide into my boxers, and when her soft little fingers curl around my thickness, I growl into her.