Page 69 of Unchained

“I’d give these up in a heartbeat to taste you again, G,” he says quietly.

And I forget how to damn breathe when he holds the burning cigarette out in front of me.

I take it, ignoring the tiny tremble in my fingers. We could. Right here. Right now.

By the time I finish my drag, the music above abruptly stops.

“Looks like we have work to do in a minute, viper.”

“What if Nikos finds out it’s us that burnt his place down?” I ask.

It’s an eventuality I have thought about, and personally, it means I find him quicker. But we are in his territory right now. Enzo has some guys in the area tracking him down, so we have backup if we need it.

But this is a risk. All for the sake of a dumb guy who cornered me in the ladies room.

“Then we kill him quicker. Enzo owns the villa; ain’t no way in hell Nikos has the capabilities to track that down. We just need to make sure no one walks out of here alive who saw us do it.”

A devious grin forms on my lips as I pass him back the cigarette.

“To sex, cigarettes, and burning shit down,” I say.

He tuts. “No sex, remember?”

“And no blow jobs with teeth.”

He chuckles. “I can teach you how to give blowjobs without biting a man's dick off, if that’s what you’re worried about?”

My eyes go wide. “It was something that popped into my head to fill the silence. Don’t overthink it. I’m not concerned about my future ability to suck a cock, Colten.”

He intakes a sharp breath, looking not at me, past me, at nothing. He opens his mouth, but clearly decides against whatever was next and stands.

“You start getting the strongest booze together that you can find. I’ll go see what’s going on upstairs,” he says abruptly.

Then he’s gone.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Colten

Song- Gasoline, I Prevail

I had to get away from her before I said everything that was on my mind. Things I have no right to say. Like, I don’t want to teach you so you can use it with other guys. I want to keep you to myself. I want to learn how to eat you out in ways that’ll make you scream.

Fuck.

I stomp towards the end of the corridor. The parking lot is pretty much empty. Outside I hear the chatter of drunken tourists staggering along the bumpy sidewalk.

Keeping my steps light, I head back towards the restaurant doors, peering through the glass. It’s one group of men at a table, counting cash and smoking. The same two guys that came in to visit the chefs earlier.

Bingo. We’ve got an empty restaurant with Nikos’ men. As I turn around, Gianna’s holding a bottle under one arm, the other above her head, pouring a trail of clear liquid.

“Absinthe. This is about to go boom.” She cackles.

“Shh,” I whisper, nodding behind me to the doors.

That earns me a naughty grin from her. She holds out the second bottle, and I take it as she opens the bathroom door, where our dead Greek is locked in, and begins covering the place in fuel.

When she reappears, she stops right in front of me.