Page 10 of Corso DeLuca

“Then humor me!” I yell, not satisfied with his outrage. I need hard evidence to Greg’s innocence.

His voice drops to a coarse whisper, “There are two questions you should be asking, Jessie. Both involve saving your own ass.”

“I’m listening, Corso,” I hiss, not caring that this is a fight I can’t win. He holds all the cards. And he’s holding his well-played hand close to the vest. Greg couldn’t have been everything I despise.

“Who in the bureau knew you were coming to The Governor?”

He’s right. Like back in that business complex, tonight’s bullets had my name etched in the casings. I would be dead if I hadn’t stepped in front of Teal. The bureau had more than a leak, there was a dirty rat feeding the criminal information to eliminate FBI agents.

“And the other?” I gesture with my chin because it’s too early in the game to surrender.

“Why did your white knight, Greg, trust a criminal to protect you instead of the alphabets you work for, princess?”

I swing my legs out of the bed, sitting up. I pitch forward, but Corso is there to catch me. Odd, but I knew he wouldn’t let my ass hit the floor. I know better than to trust him, but I can count on him to be close by. I hate gray areas and being dependent on Corso is far from black and white.

“Hands off,” I say, supporting my weight on my good shoulder. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”

He starts to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

With his big body, he closes the short distance between us. The scent of expensive leather and warm man fills my nose. My heart rate races, higher and higher. His chest brushes my nipples. They respond, tightening to hard peaks. And because he’s a criminal, not an upstanding member of society, he actually comments on a response I’d rather ignore.

“Jessie,” he growls, eyes on my riotous tits that have managed to open the door to sexual tension I have no desire, well-that’s not quite true, to stroll into. “First you come here. Now those sweet tits get hard for me.”

“I’m leaving,” I snap. I’m done trying to reconcile the man I thought he was with the man he actually is.

Before I can move one iota, Corso bands a thick forearm around my waist, locking us together. Electricity, no, a lightning storm arcs between us. Like an animal in the wild catching its mate’s scent for the first time, his hardness triggers a soft dampness in the heart of my womanhood. I clamp my thighs, sealing away my dew. But he inhales, and I know I’m too late.

“Gregorio wanted you here… with me.” He voice is a low grumble. The frequency adds to my arousal. “So you stay.”

I snatch away from his touch. “Fuck you, Corso DeLuca,” I say a little too breathless to deliver the sting as intended.

“Not tonight,” he says, meeting my eyes, “but,” he angles his head, the warmth of his breath kisses my ear, “you have my attention.”

I shiver at the inherent promise of capturing the eye of a man like Corso, wishing his kiss had been on my lips.

FOUR

Corso

Jessie’s suffering from blood loss, but what’s my excuse for lusting after a woman bent on locking me in a six by eight cell? I’ll admit, it felt good to administer aid to a patient again. Attending medical school had been my mother’s dream for me. Far be it for Antonella DeLuca’s son to be limited to just a mafioso heir. Her hope had been for me to legitimize our branch of the DeLuca family tree.

The reality of who we are, savage killers, broke her and that dream years ago. A glimpse of that boy cared for Jessie tonight. It’s that feeling, that thread of hope that Jessie NuCalla uncovered, that I must cut out of my life before the cancer infects more of my brain cells. Hope for anything different will get me killed. I saw the ramifications when it happened to my parents.

A lump forms in my throat as I shove the long ago images of our happy family back into a steel box. My knuckles crack like glass before I notice my clenched fist.

What is done can’t be undone. No use in digging at an old scar.

I need to uncover who ordered the hit on Gregorio and Jessie fast. The longer she stays under my roof, the more royally fucked we both are. Judging by the ache in my cock and Jessie’s response to my touch, we both would enjoy the sweaty, hard fuck.

From the chair where I’ve settled in near her bedside, I glance over at my sleeping ward. I’ve disconnected the saline bags and removed the IV needle to her forearm. The woman squirms more than Roman’s little boy. She’s kicked off the lightweight blanket again, leaving those gorgeous breasts on display.

Even in sleep, she taunts me… ballsy witch, I chuckle to myself.

Under normal circumstances, I would choose to fuck rather than converse with a woman who stirs my appetite.

With Jessie, I want both.