Page 49 of Single Malt Drama

A soft moan escaped her mouth and she moved her hands over my chest, arms, and shoulders randomly as if she couldn’t figure out where to touch me.

Without breaking the kiss, I grasped her hips and pulled her forward until she took the hint and settled in my lap with her long, tan legs circling me. I wound her dark hair around my hand and tugged her head back to expose the length of her neck. While kissing a line from her full lips to her collarbone, two things occurred to me.

One. I could do this for the next six months, nine months, or nine freaking years, and it would never get old. Two. No one or nothing is going to stop me from giving her the sort of life she wants.

Nico pressed closer and let out another soft moan. Slowly, almost tentatively, she ground herself against me.

I saw stars.

It didn’t matter that we were both fully clothed, or that the angle of my cock meant she was getting off on the folds in my jeans instead of my body. It was the hottest non-sex sex I’d ever had…until my phone rang.

Nico stopped moving.

“Ignore it.” I drew her nipple into my mouth, T-shirt, bra, and all.

“What if it’s Enzo?” She pulled back.

“Babe, the last thing I want to hear you say right now is my brother’s name.” Tugging her hair, I pulled her head to the side and nuzzled into her neck.

The damned call went to voicemail, but whoever it was hit redial.

Nico set her hands on my chest and pushed me back. “It must be important.”

Grumbling, I took the phone from my back pocket. “Marchionni.”

“I would like to speak to my daughter.”

I recognized the baritone voice instantly.

Pietro Lazio.