Home > Savage Beast (Sinfully Savage #3)(5)

Savage Beast (Sinfully Savage #3)(5)
Author: Kristen Luciani

Walking these streets brings back such bittersweet memories of us embracing the little time we had left and basking in the sunshine of Washington Square Park. She always loved the Village and would often come for a visit when I was living here to take me shopping or to dinner.

A pang assaults my chest.

God, I miss her so much.

I’d give anything to hold her hand again and to traipse through the foliage and brick pathways in the iconic landmarks of lower Manhattan.

Tears sting my eyes and I blink them away before they have a chance to fall.

She wouldn’t want me to cry. Lord knows, I’ve done enough of that over the past year. She’d want me to be strong, to find some sliver of light in the murky existence that’s become my life. And dammit, I’ve been searching for a while, coming up empty every time.

There has to be a way out of this ominous maze that’s become my dismal life. There has to be a way to finally regain control over my future.

The one bright spot that I look forward to each week is the two hours when I volunteer at the local community center and read to the young neighborhood children. I help them learn English, and they give me a little shred of happiness to cling to in return. I miss my students so much and this at least keeps me on top of my game.

I swear to myself that one day I will get back to teaching. My father’s recent conviction won’t hang over my head like a toxic black cloud forever.

I won’t let this break me.

I can’t let the past rule me forever.

I pull open the door to the bar and flash a smile at Michael, the big, broad bouncer. He gives me a wink and steps aside so I can pass. I run my eyes over the tables in the main dining room as I scurry toward the back room. I give Jimmy, the owner, a little wave as I hurry past the bar, stopping to scoop up a wrap on the floor behind a woman sitting on one of the stools.

“Thank you so much,” she gushes when I hand it to her.

I grin. “No problem.” I’m about to turn around when a hard force collides with my back. A cool drizzle slips down the back of my black shirt, soaking the fabric, and I gasp, jumping at the unwelcome, wet and sticky sensation now assaulting my skin.

When I turn around, I find myself staring into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. So deep, so penetrating…oh, crap. Why did I have to think of that word? Penetrating. It’s been a long time since that word had any applicability to my life.

Chiseled jaw, rich olive skin, full lips curling into a sinfully seductive grin. A heavy fringe of thick, dark hair falls over his one quirked eyebrow. And when this man-god speaks, holy shit. The vibrations ripple through me like I’m a body of water, and he’s a smooth stone skipping over the surface.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t order a double,” he murmurs. “I think you owe me one now, though.”

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

Roman

 

 

Dark lashes frame wide eyes that I can stare into for a lifetime and still not know exactly what color they are. Flecks of gold fire ignite in the depths of blue, green, and caramel swirls. In the dim lighting of the bar, the green is fighting for center stage, flashing with intensity as I lose myself in her shocked and slightly appalled gaze.

Holy fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever get a chance to look into those eyes again.

I remember them…the heat, the emotion, the desire flickering in the aquamarine pools.

Yeah, I saw it. And I hated myself for ignoring it, but what the hell was I supposed to do?

She was my best friend’s little sister.

I could look, but I couldn’t touch, or Frankie would have cut off my balls.

Besides, it’s not like our families parted ways as friends. My father and his associates chased them from their home, forcing them out of Sicily.

The Amantes became our enemies and I never saw her again.

I was actually surprised that Pop let her father live after he fucked us over. But I guess karma came back to bite him in the ass since he’s rotting in prison now, and my family has built a billion-dollar empire here in the States.

But fuck me, Marchella Amante is standing right in front of me now after all of these years, and she clearly has no idea who I am.

I mean, yeah, I look different. It’s been ten years, so I’ve put on about fifty pounds of muscle and my dark hair is longer. But the biggest change is that I’m no longer that clean-cut pretty boy she once knew. This older version of me gets dirty…gritty…and bloody.

I was able to escape all of that back in Sicily but here? Now?

It’s my way of life.

No wonder she can’t see through all of the darkness.

Her pale pink lips are slightly parted, enough that if I grabbed her by the back of her head and pulled her close, my tongue could slip right through them, just like I’d always fantasized about doing.

She might punch me if I did that right now.

She may try to scream.

But she’d definitely enjoy it and everything that would follow.

I’m a lot of things, and confident about my sexual prowess is one of them.

For a second, I get lost in my daydream, watching her lips form words, but not hearing a single one.

Then the arms start swinging around, the forehead becomes pinched, and the eyes take on a kind of murderous glow.

I decide it’s time to perk up my ears.

“Are you just going to stand there, staring at me?”

She still doesn’t recognize me…

But I sure as hell recognize her. Damn, the years have been very fucking generous.

And while I want to look a little longer, now is the time for me to speak. So I have fun with it, keeping my cover for the time being.

“That depends. Do I need to order food?”

She makes a face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, that’s the rule at the bar, isn’t it? If you’re gonna hang here, you need to order food.” I wink at her. “I was just making a joke.”

“Oh. So smooth. Just like your lame pick-up line!”

I furrow my brow. “Lame? I actually thought it was kinda clever, you know, since you banged into me and made me spill my drink all over you. I figured it was a good opening.” I let out a chuckle. “Guess I figured wrong.”

“You figured very wrong!” she says, her fists clenched at her sides. “And I don’t appreciate the harassment!”

“How is it harassment if I just want to talk to you?” Her face is bright pink now and she’s angry. So I play along because it’s just too much fun watching her get all hot and bothered.

She pushes her chest against me, and fuck me if my cock doesn’t tingle a bit despite the world of shit I’ve recently been plunged into. “It’s harassment if I don’t feel the same way!”

“Chella, do we have a problem here?” A guy behind the bar wanders over, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks from me to the girl.

Chella.

I’d always loved her name. it always sounded sensual. Sexy. Savage.

And I just ignited a spark inside of her.

Let the flames roar.

She jerks around, stumbling over her words of assurance that there is no problem, that we just had a minor collision.

I’d like to make it a major one next time.

The guy lifts an eyebrow at me, nodding at my empty glass. “You need another?”

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