Born in Blood Collection Volume 1 - Cora Reilly Page 0,364

always got in trouble together.”

“I bet Matteo got in trouble and you had to save his ass.”

Romero let out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s more like it. When Luca became a Made Man and when I heard the story of how he killed his first man at eleven, I wanted nothing more than to be like him.”

“You were only eight then. Shouldn’t you have been playing with matchbox cars instead?”

“I always knew I wanted to become a member of the Famiglia. I wanted to be their best fighter. I often practiced with Matteo and in the beginning even with Luca. They wiped the ground with me. But I was a quick learner, and when I was inducted a few years later, only a handful could see eye to eye with me in a knife fight, and I got only better with time. I worked hard.”

I could tell he was proud of what he’d achieved. “What did your family want? Did they try to keep you away from the mob?”

“My father didn’t want his life for me. As a debt collector he had to do many horrible things. But he and my mother trusted me to decide for myself.”

How would it be to have people trust you to make your own decisions?

“This life, does it make you happy?” I asked softly. Sometimes I wished there was an easy definition for what made me happy.

“At times, but nobody can always be happy.” He was silent for a moment. “What makes you happy?”

“I don’t know. This, but I know it’s fleeting.”

Romero’s chest rose and fell under my cheek until I was sure he’d fallen asleep but then he spoke again. “Happiness often is. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

* * *

Deep down I knew I needed to stop this madness. If someone caught us, both our lives would be ruined. But I couldn’t. Whenever I was near Romero the sorrow that had rested so heavily on me in the last few weeks seemed bearable. Everything seemed lighter and more hopeful.

I eased the door open. As usual the lights were out but the curtains weren’t drawn so the moonlight illuminated the contours of the furniture and showed me my path toward the bed. I closed the door without a sound and tiptoed across the room. Romero wasn’t asleep. I could feel his eyes following me as I slipped under the covers. He lay on his back, his arms propped up behind his head. I couldn’t make out his expression. He waited for me to put my head on his chest so he could wrap his arm around me. He’d never made the first move but tonight I didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted, but definitely more. I was glad for the dark when I got up on my knees and straddled his hips.

Romero tensed beneath me and sat up, his palms flat against my shoulder blades. “What are you doing?” he murmured, a quality to his voice I’d never heard before.

“I don’t know,” I whispered before I lightly brushed my lips over his. I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I’d expected, definitely not the one I got. He flipped us over so my back was pressed into the mattress and he was hovering over me. He wasn’t holding me down but his body caged me in, his knees between my legs, his arms beside my head, his upper body over me. Romero everywhere. God, and it felt good. Maybe there should have been anxiety and trepidation. We were alone in his bedroom, and if I called for help I’d get in more trouble than when I let him do whatever he wanted. But I wasn’t scared of Romero. Maybe I was stupid not to be. I knew what he was capable of. He was a killer. And he was a grown man, who’d had many women before me who delivered when they offered their body to him. Everyone always told me that playing games would get me in trouble one day. Maybe tonight they’d be proven right.

Despite this, my body reacted to Romero’s closeness. My center tightened in anticipation, of what I wasn’t even entirely sure, and heat pooled in my belly. For a long time the only sound in the dark was our rapid breathing. “Lily,” he said quietly, imploringly. “I pride myself on my self-control, but I’m a man and not a good one either. So far I’ve tried