of how they clung to her body, how her ass shook as she walked, how her tits pushed together because of the tightness of her shirt.
I squeezed my cock a little tighter as my mind fast forwarded to our kiss. To how her tongue teased mine and her lips softened beneath the pressure of me. Pleasure jolted through me, and I bit back a low groan as the memory took on a mind of its own.
In my head, we weren't kissing.
She pulls off her shirt and it falls to the floor. I kiss down her neck until I reach the mound of her tits and take one pink nipple into my mouth. I suck hard, and she dives her fingers into my hair, moaning. She arches her back, forcing her tit further into my mouth.
My hand moved even faster on my cock, and my whole body tensed.
She reaches between us and unbuttons my pants. One hand slips inside my boxers, her fingertips brushing the head of my cock as I turn my attention to her other nipple. She wraps her fingers around my dick and slowly moves her hand up and down its length.
I clenched my jaw as that thought took over. It wasn't my fucking hand anymore. It was too easy to imagine that my rough palm was now her soft one.
She gasps as I suck harder on her nipple and slide my hand inside her pants. My fingertips rub against cotton panties, and I rub her through the material. She whimpers, momentarily pausing her hand. I dip my fingers beneath the panties to touch her wet clit. She gasps, gripping my cock tighter, and the easy circles I rub over her pussy seem to egg her on as she tugs hard on my erection...
“Ah!” I dropped my head forward as the fantasy won out. My balls tightened uncomfortably, along with the rest of my body, and I clenched my jaw as my orgasm swamped me. I pumped my fist along my cock as my release left me in spurts.
Fuck.
I hated myself for that.
It was so fucking wrong... So fucking sick, and I'd done it anyway. Less than twenty-four hours ago I'd had a gun pressed to the side of her head and now I'd just fucking come to a fantasy of her.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I cleaned myself up, this time using the soap for its correct purpose, and got out of the shower. My phone starting ringing as I secured a towel around my waist, and I ran to get it in case it was Enzio.
It was.
“Boss,” I answered, my hair dripping water onto the bed.
“Well?” he responded. “Isaiah said you wanted to speak with me. Have you not taken care of my problem yet?”
“Not exactly. I know where she is,” I added quickly. “But she hasn't been alone yet. Even last night, she stayed with a friend.”
“So kill the fucking friend.”
“Too risky. You know that.”
“What are you asking for, Carlo? More time? How do I know you're not lying to me?”
You don't. “Because I've never failed. She has an active social life and goes to school. It seems like getting her alone will be hard. I can't guarantee I'll have her taken care of by tomorrow night.”
“And Alexandria?”
“I haven't seen her yet, Boss.”
There was almost silence at the other end. All I heard was several heavy breaths and the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He was probably lighting a cigar, the thing he did whenever he heard something he didn't like. Stopped him killing people on the spot.
Not that he had that option. That was probably why he was lighting the cigar—because he couldn't touch me.
The click of a lighter and one deep exhale proved me right. “You have an extra forty-eight hours. That's four motherfuckin' days, Carlo. Get the fuckin' job done, or you'll be done. Understood?”
“Understood.”
He clicked off the line without another word, and I dropped the phone on the bed with relief. Fucking hell. Enzio never gave extra time. Not to anyone. I knew then how important this job was to him.
He didn't just want Adriana dead—or Alexandria, for that matter. He needed them dead.
My phone rang again, but when I flipped it over to see the screen, I didn't recognize the number, so I ignored it and went to my suitcase. I got dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, and when I turned, my phone was blinking. I grabbed it to clear the notification, but it