Gina groans, leaning into me. “Santa, I’m so wet right now . . . Please, damn!”
Though I’m agonizingly aroused, my irritation rises. Jaw clenched, my fingers flex. I wrap an arm around Gina and tell myself not to get too jealous tonight. I tell myself she needs this, and I will tally any look or touch from a man, and she will pay later on and love it.
A bouncer eyeing Gina points to us and lets us pass a small line of people.
“Hey!” A few people complain.
“This is couture, sweetheart,” Gina retorts.
“So, you can say sweetheart and sweetie?” I ask.
“And be a super asshole about it.” She winks, ass swishing left to right as she enters.
The place is your standard nightclub. The main dance floor is in the center, black tables and chairs are scattered about. I’ve filled out more chairs than this. I’m searching for a table away from the epicenter when Gina heads toward the bar.
Though I’m eyeing Gina as she waves a crisp hundred dollar bill, women in their little circles stare at me. Some of them in blatant recollection, others with quizzical looks on their faces.
I’m unable to get away from the hive fast enough. As a woman in another group asks, “Rome . . .?”
“Who?” I cut her off in an intimidating tone. No smiling for the ladies tonight. So far, I’m keeping my demons on a fucking leash when Gina struts over with a tray of shots.
With the music so loud, my words caress her lips in a whisper. “Who are these for, Gina?”
“Me. Maybe you. That depends though. All the guys here are super unattractive. So, I need you to dance with me, Santino.”
She grips one of the glasses, tosses it back, and sets it down for another. I take the shot glass from her. “Gina, these are premium—”
She reaches for it. I place the shot onto the tray and hoist it up high. Not a splash of liquid has fallen from the tiny shots.
“Alright, Santino, time for me to dance with . . .”
“You willdance for me. Then tonight, you’ll pay.” I place the shots on the table. I take two shots and down them. My woman is at my side, tossing back another one, then another and another. Thinking about my past, I catch up with her. I’ll tell her about that part of my past in a few years. That’s what I’ll do.
“Slow down, Gina.”
“I haven’t gotten started.” She pours the last vodka shot down her throat then kisses me hard, letting me taste the fire on her tongue.
“Well, Santa, I’m hot now.” Gina takes my hand and bounds toward an empty area of the dance floor. Two girls twirl around each other, eyeing me. I stake claim to the small of Gina’s back.
“Yeah, maybe we should move.” She starts another part again. “They don’t want to start anything.”
Gina looks up at me, brushing her palm against my chest. When she extends her body out further, my eyes fall to the curve of her hips as she twirls around. “Mmmm,” I groan as Gina moves erotically against me. Half the women are eyeing me.
They’re waiting for me to flip Gina like a fucking yo-yo, then they’ll be lining up to be next. Like Goliath before his great fall, I stand there while Gina’s voluptuous backside entices my erection.
“You know what, Santino. I will dance with another man. Keep trying me.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to be here,” she grits in Italian. Seconds later, Gina wiggles her fingers at me and walks away.
* * *
My attemptat an apology goes over Gina’s head. We end up at her place. She’s stalking inside when I grab her arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To slip out of my designer shoes and clothes. To beboring!”
I’m laughing when Gina’s palm flies toward me. Catching her wrist, I snarl, “What the fuck is that for?”