Page 58 of Sexting His Son's Ex
“Tell me, Jovie. Was this all a joke? Was I the joke?” I finally break the silence, getting to the matter at hand.
“A joke? No, it as never a joke.”
I turn around, giving her my full attention. “Am I supposed to believe that? I’m not a stupid man, Jovie. Once I figured out it was you who was messaging me?—”
“—How? How did you find out? I covered all of my tracks,” she argues. “Well, not all of them. I used my personal phone number. Is that how you found me?”
“Your messenger boy. You forgot that people love to talk when their lives are threatened.” I make my way to the minibar settled on the other side of the room. I pour myself a glass of whiskey. “Would you like a drink?”
“No thank you. I’d rather be in my right mind when it comes to a man like you,” she says.
“A man like me?”
“Did you hurt him?” She whispers, glancing down at the floor with teary eyes.
I chuckle, placing the decanter back on the shelf. “No, I didn’t hurt him. You must have heard so many stories about me to believe I’d hurt a courier.”
I would.But I wouldn’t hurt anyone if it meant hurting her.
Her shoulders drop with relief. “Oh, good.”
“I did break down his door, but I left him very much alive. He gave you up very easily, by the way.”
“I would hope so!” She raises her voice. “No one deserves to die over a few bucks when it comes to flowers.”
I down my scotch, the burn in my throat and the warmth in my stomach easing my temper. “I will kill whoever I need to even when it comes to something as simple as flowers. I’ve killed for a lot less.” I step forward.
She steps back, but there’s nowhere for her to go. Her back hits the wall. “I didn’t know you were mafia until the other night. Marlowe had to catch me up.”
“I knew you were sweet and innocent.” I cross the room until I’m standing in front of her, cupping her jaw with my palm. “Not that innocent though, are you?” I pinch my brows together, thinking about her using me to get back at my son. “Sending me flowers, for what? What were you hoping for?”
“I wasn’t hoping for anything,” she admits. “I was angry at your son for getting another woman pregnant, even though she isn’t,he still cheated. I wanted to get back at him. I knew talking to you would piss him off.”
“So it was all a game?” I ask, stepping away from her, missing her scent.
“No! I mean, yes, it was, but I also used it as a chance to talk to you. Ever since I met you, you’ve been on my mind, so I used what happened with Luca to my advantage. It was a win/win for me.”
“And what about me?” I question, staring at the woman I’ve fallen so helplessly in love with.
“I didn’t think you’d care about me. I thought once I cut off my number, you’d forget all about the silly woman you’ve been messaging and move on with your life.”
“Move on?” I roar, my voice booming off the walls, and Jovie flinches as if I hit her. I lower my tone, not wanting her to be afraid of me. “There is no moving on. Not from you. Every single day, every single night, I wanted the person on the other end of that phone to be you. I dreamed of it. I imagined it every single fucking day,” I say through tight teeth. “You. I’ve wanted you. Since the moment I saw you, when I met you, I hated you were with my son. I wanted you to be mine, Jovie. All mine. I hated the thought of Luca getting you in ways I wanted.”
She cries, reaching for my hand before she changes her mind. “I’m so sorry, Santino. I didn’t tell you the truth or who I was because I knew you couldn’t ever love me like I ended up loving you. I know I’m too young for you. I know you’d never do that to Luca. I’m so sorry,” Jovie sobs and runs to the door, swings it open.
But I’m there, slamming it shut with my hand.
Her back is against my front. Her body warm and trembling, her breath unsteady and frantic. Her long copper hair glistens against the light of the room, the aroma of lilies sticking to the beautiful bronze strands. I bury my nose in her, inhaling the scent that’s haunted my dreams.
My fingers glide up her spine, her back arching from the touch.
“You are delusional if you think I’m going to let you leave this room,” I whisper into her ear, my lips grazing the shell of her ear. “I’ve waited too long to have you like this. In my home, in my room, under me in ways that allow me to have you.” I grab her arms and spin her around, igniting a yelp from her due to the expected manhandling.
Her rosy cheeks are a beautiful sign that she might like being manhandled.
And I’d love to be the one who handles her.
Her chest rises and falls with every breath, her breasts push against my chest. I tilt my head, bringing my lips closer to hers.
