Page 4 of Redemption
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice a little shaky. “Sounds a bit… dangerous.”
“You’re telling me it doesn’t make you,” I lick my lips and let my gaze wander to her chest, and lower, “interested?”
She squirms, chewing on her lip, measuring me up. “I don’t know anything about you.”
“Correct. And I don’t know anything about you. That’s the way I like it.”
“Maybe have a drink first? Chat a little?”
“I don’t chat.” I pin her with my gaze. Her chest heaves, her cheeks have taken on a slight blush. When she doesn’t answer, I take a step back. “Okay.” I turn and feel her hand on my arm.
“Wait!”
Gotcha. I turn back to her, taking my time. “Yes?”
“How do I know you’re not some mass murderer?”
“You don’t.” I reach out and brush my thumb across her lower lip, making her shudder visibly. “I’m no gentleman, but you’ll leave my place tomorrow morning, somewhat intact, on your own two feet.”
Her mouth falls open, her breathing changes. I can almost smell her arousal and my cock stiffens. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Alexandra,” she says on an exhale.
“I’m Christian. It’s time to make up your mind.”
“Oh God,” she moans in defeat. “I’m not right in the head, but what the hell.”
I smirk as I snake an arm around her waist and steer her out of the club, into a cab I hail. Tomorrow, she’ll be sore, and she’ll probably never want to see me again.
I like it rough.
Ridiculously satisfied,my carnal needs fulfilled, I call a cab for the girl who can barely walk. She’s fresh from a shower and smells of a musky sandalwood. Nathan’s soap. I toss her one of my brother’s shirts to give her some more decency on the way home, and give her a smack on the butt.
“Off you go, Alexandra.”
“You are one sick puppy,” she says as she finds her way into the shirt and grabs her purse.
“And you enjoyed every bit of it.”
She shakes her head, more in disbelief than negating my claim. “Fuck off.” She strides to the door, pulls it open and slams it shut behind her, probably waking Nathan. If he slept at all.
I smirk and go to make myself an espresso, glancing at the clock. Caffeine, a shower, and then off to see what our sis is up to.
Angela Russo isa blend of all her brothers. She got all the best features. A hint of a Roman nose, high cheekbones, almond shaped almost-black eyes, and thick, dark brown hair that cascades down her back. We used to chase her and pull her braids when we were kids. The few times we got to play innocent games.
“Looking good!” She gives me a once-over before she sits on the cheap, red vinyl bench opposite me in the booth.
“Same, girl. Exile suits you.”
“I don’t live in exile. I’m the only one who lives a real life, you freak. Now pay for my breakfast and make yourself useful.”
“So dirty money is good enough for coffee and a bagel.”
“Fuck you.”
“Watch your tongue.”
She sticks out her tongue at me and flips me off. I shake my head and shuffle out of my seat to go order us something to eat. My stomach growls. I’m depleted of energy after last night’s activities.