Becoming the Street Boss - Hayley Faiman Page 0,92
against the wall. One of his hands stays cupping my cheek, the other wraps around my waist as his fingers dig into my flesh.
Together, we let out a moan, as I clench my thighs, my center aching for him. I whimper, he swallows the sound with a grunt as he shifts his hips forward. I let out a gasp at the feel of his hard length against my belly.
My body wants it.
Wants him.
Now.
“Massimo,” Gavino’s voice calls.
Massimo jerks from me, his forehead pressing against mine as he catches his breath, then he lifts his head and turns around, shifting his hand from my cheek to wrap around my hip, his other hand slowly falling from my waist.
“We know you are eager to get home to your wife, but first we’re going to celebrate as a famiglia. Which means, mangiare.”
He lifts his hand and points toward a table where there is food piled high. There is everything from his restaurant that I could ever imagine to order. Pastas, meats, breads, salads and then desserts.
“Shall we eat, dolcezza?” Massimo asks.
Tilting my head back, I look up to him and give him a small smile and a nod. Food doesn’t really interest me as much as a hit would, but I smile anyway. My gaze flits around the room until I find Arlo. He’s been my supplier since I ran out of prescription meds. He hates it, but he does it for me.
“Do you want me to make you a plate?” I ask, looking up to Massimo.
His lips twitch into a smile. “Yeah, I’ll go get you some wine and grab us a table?”
“Sure.” I grin. “Anything you don’t want?”
“Load me up with everything, dolcezza. I haven’t had real food in five years,” he grunts.
His words are, by themselves, probably meant to be said jokingly, but with his tone, I take them how he truly meant them—angry.
Nodding my head, I turn from him and start to walk away. He reaches for me, wrapping his fingers around my wrist before he spins me around and pulls me against his body.
Massimo dips his chin, his lips touching mine. “Missed you more than you could ever know, Pippa. I’ll make it all up to you, I swear it,” he breathes.
“Massimo,” I exhale.
“Food first though, yeah?”
Taking a step back, I look up at him, licking my lips. “Yeah.” I nod.
I turn around and hurry toward the table of food. Luckily, Arlo is directly in front of me, so we won’t look odd conversing.
“I can’t give you any more, he’s home, it’s time to get off that shit, Pippa.”
I curse, wishing that I could scream at him. It’s not that I want to be an addict, it’s just that’s what I am now. Karma has played her games and here I am, suffering the consequences of my actions and my reactions.
“He won’t care,” I lie.
Arlo snorts. “I’ll give you one last bottle, but Pip, it’s done, yeah?”
Nodding, I lick my lips as I load some spaghetti alla carbonara onto his plate. “Okay, Arlo.”
I agree to his words, but know that in a few weeks I’ll be begging him for another bottle, maybe two. He shakes his head as he reaches into his coat jacket and before I leave the food table, I have the bottle neatly tucked into my small purse.
Making my way with two heaping plates of food, I sink down in the chair next to Massimo. I don’t pay attention to who we’re sitting with until I lift my head and my gaze meets Lenora’s.
She’s holding her new baby, the toddler that she has sitting in the seat next to her. My heart clenches at the sight as the toddler moves and Arlo takes the seat before lifting the child into his lap.
“Pippa, how are you?” Lenora asks, her voice wary as her eyes search mine.
Dipping my chin, I feel like a giant cunt. I’ve been ignoring her for almost a year. This woman who spent countless hours away from her family to keep me company and I can’t even give her a call back, not even when I went back to work for her husband.
Lenora smiles softly, then shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, water under the bridge?”
Nodding, I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah,” I breathe.
“Lunch next week?” she asks as her gaze flicks from me to Massimo and then back to me. My eyes shift to my uneaten food before I lift them up to meet hers.