LEONE
I snatch her up, pressing her against the pool’s edge and against Milo, who groans as she presses against him, my hands roaming over the softness of her skin, mapping every curve I’ve come to obsess over. Each touch is fire, each kiss is gasoline, and I’m burning, consumed by her heat, her taste when she pulls away, glancing around.
“Where did Rocco go?” she asks, her voice tinged with curiosity as she searches for him.
“Home,” I reply, while her fingertips trace over my skin and the ink that covers it; she’s constantly looking for the hidden meaning to them. Though how she hasn’t put it together is beyond me, I’m surprised Dante didn’t tell her anything to torment me more. “He’ll be back tonight.” I watch her closely, searching for any sign she’s plotting something. She was alwa
