The Venetian and the Rum Runner - L.A. Witt Page 0,97
of Danny’s body against his front. God, but he wanted more. Not just heat. Skin. Bodies rubbing together with nothing dividing them. The thought of them naked together drew a moan out of him as he raked his fingers through Danny’s hair.
Abruptly, Danny broke the kiss, and they stared at each other.
Trembling.
Breathless.
Silent.
They just… stared.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Danny whispered shakily.
Carmine breathed a soft laugh. What was a little blasphemy on the heels of a kiss that sinful? He started to speak, but Danny grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him even harder this time, his fingers digging into Carmine’s skin as his tongue pushed past Carmine’s lips. Carmine’s knees were weak; he’d come inside men who hadn’t made his whole body respond the way Danny was making him respond with a kiss. Danny may have been nervous and reluctant about doing business with a gangster, but he was sure and unashamed about touching a man.
For as roughly as they’d come together this time, their mouths separated gently, their foreheads together and Danny breathing hard against Carmine’s lips. Danny drew back a little farther, and when their eyes met, his widened as if he’d just realized what they’d done.
Carmine trailed his fingertips down Danny’s faintly scruffy cheek. Closing his eyes, Danny pressed his face against Carmine’s hand.
“I, um…” Danny gulped, opening his eyes to meet Carmine’s again. “I should go. I’m… I’m meant to meet… The lads will be expecting their…”
Carmine was tempted to tell him to stay. To see how far a kiss could lead them.
But not now. Not here. Not with Sal right outside and Danny’s men waiting to be paid.
So he nodded. They held each other’s gazes a moment longer, and then, without another word, Danny stepped away and picked up the cash from the desk. He went for the door, paused, and looked back at Carmine, and the little grin on his faintly swollen lips weakened Carmine’s knees even more.
Carmine wanted so badly to suggest he stay, but they couldn’t. Not now. Not here.
Tuning away again, Danny tapped his knuckle on the door. A second later, the door opened, and Sal gestured for Danny to come with him. Sal looked at Carmine, a customary unspoken everything okay, boss? in his eyes.
Still breathless, Carmine gave a sharp nod, and Sal followed Danny, who left with all the air in the room.
The door shut and locked.
Carmine slumped back against his desk and pushed out a breath. He could still taste Danny’s kiss, could still feel the tingle from those soft, needy lips against his, and his head spun.
Danny was hardly the first man he’d ever touched. Carmine had had plenty of discreet liaisons with men all over the city. He’d bedded fairies he’d met in parks and restaurants. He’d been with day laborers, office clerks, bankers, and politicians—even the son of one of his biggest rivals.
But tonight, Danny had faded every one of those memories and left Carmine certain that no one he touched would ever do for him what Danny had done with a hungry kiss against a concrete wall.
He shook himself. No, this was ridiculous. He wasn’t a schoolboy sneaking off to kiss another boy in the woods. Someday, somehow, he’d find a way for them to be alone somewhere and indulge in more than just a long kiss against his desk.
But not now. Not here.
Carmine couldn’t take the chance of his men figuring out what he sometimes did when lights were down and doors were closed.
He’d see Danny again, and soon. The crew was going on a run tomorrow night. A day or so after that, Danny would be back in the office with his fistful of chits.
And hopefully, Carmine thought with a shiver, he’d be back to collect more than his money.
Chapter 21
Despite the cool, salty wind, Danny could still taste Carmine’s kiss. He was imagining it. He had to be. But Lord, from the moment their lips had touched in the office yesterday…
He shook himself and focused. He still couldn’t believe that brief encounter had been real, but he could dwell on it later. After the run. After they were all safely on their way back to Manhattan.
Right now, the yacht he and the lads had stolen was nearly to the merchant ship twelve and a half miles off the coast of Long Island. The huge vessel loomed over them in the mist, and crewmen were already gesturing at them and moving into position to toss lines onto the yacht’s deck.