Screaming.
There was no more thinking, or plotting, or taking my time.
I was running toward the house, come what may.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Salvatore
I’d forgotten about him, to be honest.
The enforcer.
The one who’d shot Whitney.
He’d burrowed back into a dark corner of my mind.
I was sure he would creep back to the surface at some point, but the present moment had been full of too many other thoughts and feelings to waste any time on his ass.
What can I say?
I was pretty fucking sure the impossible was happening.
I was… falling in love.
Fuck, it even sounded cheesy.
But there was no denying the feelings that had been weaseling their way in over the past few weeks. The interest that became more than interest. The way I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way I wanted her in my life, wanted her around my people.
We’d hardly spent more than a few hours apart since she moved into my place to protect her from that asshole ex-boyfriend of her sister.
And, somehow, even just those few hours had been fucking excruciating.
I mean, I’d let the woman convince me to open a website on my phone and pick out flatware for the kitchen. I’d given her a drawer in the bathroom. I’d made room for her in the closet.
That was serious shit to someone like me who’d never even let a woman in his house for the night.
I’d been too busy enjoying watching her move around the kitchen, making breakfast in the pan she’d brought from her place, and coffee in the cups she’d brought too, her hips shimmying around to the music she had coming from her phone, making one of my tees that she chose to wear every night instead of her own pajamas, sway around her thighs.
Inevitably, breakfast would burn because I found it impossible not to walk over there behind her, running my hands over her, slipping my fingers inside her until she stopped even mentioning breakfast, and was begging for more, then sliding my cock into her waiting pussy, and fucking her until we both were even hungrier than before.
I’d gotten used to having her in my bed at night, too. Her soft body curling into mine, making me wrap my arms around her, making me see for the first fucking time that there were things in life worth holding onto tight.
So, yeah, the fucker who’d mistakenly brought us together was the furthest thing from my mind as my cock was buried inside of Whitney as she rode me, giving me a great fucking view to watch her come.
But then there’d been the phone call.
The orders.
The unexpected surge of disappointment.
Which, because it was so ridiculous, I battled back down, reminding myself that no matter how much I liked being with Whit, that I would eventually have to get used to her not being around all the damn time.
Sure, I could visit her at the diner, but I was pretty sure the school wouldn’t look too fondly on a known mafia member on parole showing up and sitting in a classroom because he just couldn’t get enough of his woman.
I needed to get a grip.
And I didn’t have to worry about her.