La Cosa Nostra, This Thing of Ours by Amie Nichols Read Free Book Online

feeling a little betrayed by my friend. When I reach Liam, who is still standing halfway up the stairs, I catch a whiff of that cologne making my belly tighten. 
    "Are you following me , Mr. Tarseta?" I ask, his face very close to mine making it very hard for me to breathe. 
    "I own this club , Ms. Troy, so I guess I could assume the same thing from you," he says in his smooth sexy voice that is really starting to annoy me. Why does he have to be so damn sexy all the time? "Come have a drink with me, Petal," he says with that wicked half smile. He places his hand on the small of my back, leading me the rest of the way up the stairs. The heat I feel from his hand on my back is very concerning. I can already feel my panties getting wet. I do not want to give in to this guy.
    Tara and I scoot into the half-moon booth and Liam sits next to me.  Close, too close, his leg brushes up against mine, making my breath hitch.  A man comes, sitting in the booth next to Tara he looks at us like we are fresh meat.
    "This is my cousin , Tony, Tony this is Harper and I'm sorry..." he stops when he realizes he doesn't know Tara's name.
    "Tara ," she gushes, handing her hand to Tony. He too has the dark Italian thing going, but he is not so much muscular as he is hefty. Not fat just, you know, hefty. 
    "What would you like to drink, Petal?" Liam leans over very close to my ear like he is telling me a secret. A shiver runs through me as I feel his hot breath on my ear.
    "Rum and Diet Coke," I answer as I turn my head toward him, which is a big mistake because he is still really close. I lean back to put some distance between us. 
    He smiles at me and tells the waitress our drink orders.
    "So where is Monica tonight, Mr. Tarseta?" I ask, hoping that bringing up his girlfriend will back him off. 
    "Don't know. Why the fuck do you think I would know or care about that?" he says now leaning back himself to take me in and what he thinks is a very stupid question.
    I just shrug, why do you think asshole ?
    "Do you think we are a thing? " he asks, laughing. "We used to fuck, that was all." He says it so casually it turns my stomach. Thank you, Italian sex god. At least there is something I don't find attractive about you . 
    "So by used to , you mean on Tuesday?" I am a little taken aback by his candor, of course nothing should shock me with this man.
    "You noticed that , huh?" he says, like he had been caught with this hand in the cookie jar. Of course I noticed it, you made it very obvious .
    "Well I saw you left together, it's not like I was watching you or anything." I have no idea why I just said that, but it makes him smirk a large pretentious grin. 
    "I took her home, but I did not fuck her." He says it like he is about to admit some major secret to me.
    "W hy is that, Mr. Tarseta?" Why the hell did I just ask that ?
    "Because , Petal, ever since I laid eyes on you, I can't think of anything else but you," he says, now leaning toward me, whispering his secret to me. Holy fuck, what a secret it is. I feel my whole body tighten. Even though I am turned on as hell, I need to get my guard up. This guy has heartbreak written all over him . Besides, he is my boss.
    "I thought you were done. Y ou don't beg, remember?" I throw his arrogant comment back at him.
    "I'm not begging," h e says with an eyebrow raise.  "I was just stating a fact."
    "We 're going to go dance," Tara says, following Tony out of the booth, she bounces after him leaving me alone with Liam.
    "Well I'm sorry to disappoint you , but you are just not my type." I turn to him keeping my legs squeezed together, hoping I am strong enough to get through this.
    His head goes back and he lets out a loud, throaty laugh that is so cocky and egotistical. So why the hell is it turning me on more?  
    "Ok ay, Petal, so you're going to pretend that every time I get close to you, you don't stop breathing." He proves his point by putting his arm around the back of my seat, touching the nape