by Bethany-Kris
The mafia.
Again.
Camilla looked August’s way, clearly noting her silence on the matter. “He’s just being ... overly precautious.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It wasn’t that as much as it was the fact, they had to be careful at all. Yet another reminder to August that while she was around her friend, and their people, she couldn’t pretend like that other side of life—the darker side—didn’t exist.
It was very real.
They were living it.
• • •
Camilla hung halfway over the bar as she waved at the female bartender down the way. “Hey, Marci, can I just—”
“All on the house, Cam,” the chick called back. “Get whatever you need, girl.”
A sly smile light up Camilla’s features as she glanced at August from the side. “It pays to know people.”
August nodded. “Or it pays to be the wife of the next Outfit boss.”
“Well, that too.”
Their laughter was drowned out by the loud scratching coming from the DJ booth when the man started a new record. The place was banging. Even August had to admit that, and she wasn’t much of a club-goer since Camilla left New York after getting married. She focused more on college, and her career, than drinking and having fun.
Now, with the swaying lights overhead, the strobes pointed on the DJ in his large, glass-encased booth, the music pumping a familiar tune under her feet that made her want to dance, and the promise of liquor coming soon ... well, August was happy to be back.
Camilla practically climbed over the bar, drawing in a whistle from a couple of men—who looked like frat, fuck boys, to be honest—down the way. Her friend ignored the catcalls, and August bet Tommaso was nearby, seriously considering if he could get away with murder in the packed club.
Nothing new to see here.
August took in the club, and the layout again while Camilla found the specific brand of whiskey she wanted on the built-in shelves behind the bar. Glossy, hardwood floors vibrated under her heels. Although up high, the club had an industrial look what with the exposed metal ceilings, and pipes running overhead. Large, bare bulbs provided some light, but the rest was compliments of the light setups over the twenty-five-foot-long bar, and the DJ booth.
At the back of the club, one could find hallways that led to bathrooms for the patrons, a set of offices, and storage. On the east side of the club, the VIP section sat on a raised platform, secured by the same kind of silver, metal bars that crisscrossed the ceiling. There was very little sitting area outside of the VIP, which seemed to be fine for the patrons, because they were much more interested in drinking and dancing.
August knew the feeling.
The club was designed for fun—all kinds of it.
Her stare was still scanning the people dancing on the floor when it came to a stop on a group near the entrance of the club. She recognized two faces in the group that flooded the space—Joe and Cory Rossi, the owners of the club, and cousins to Tommaso, Cam’s husband. August met them once or twice, in previous visits to her friend, not to mention they had been in the wedding party when Cam and Tom married.
But it wasn’t the Rossi brothers—who were impossible to miss with their impressive sizes, inked skin, and severe stares that said they were appreciating their hard work in front of them—but rather, the two men to their left.
Identical men.
Twins.
August blinked again.
My God.
They were handsome, the twins. Their dark brown hair had been cut in matching high fades, which only accentuated sharp cheekbones and chiseled jawlines when they turned their profiles to the side—at the same time, although in opposite directions. Their identical mouths, pulled down into a frown, showed full lips, and just a day or two worth of scuff.
Leather jackets.
Dark wash jeans.
Converse.
Oh, their clothes didn’t match exactly, sure, but they still wore a similar style. And when the one on the left raised his right hand to run his fingers across the nape of his neck while he surveyed the club, the twin on the right did the same with his opposite hand. Except ... they hadn’t looked at one another. They didn’t know either of them were doing that gesture.
Wow.
August had never been more interested in watching other humans until that moment. And yet, despite their matching good looks, her gaze was drawn to the twin on the left more than the one on the right. He filled out that leather jacket and jeans fantastically. That was an understatement, really. Strong thighs, a broad chest, and wide shoulders.
Shit, yeah.
Handsome really didn’t do him justice. And she bet he would look even better if he was wearing nothing at all, and looming over her in a bed.
Yep.
Damn.
She went there fast.
She couldn’t help but notice how the two brothers’ body language spoke of discomfort. They angled their stances toward one another, and yet turned their heads away. As though they didn’t want to look at one another, or talk, and yet they still wanted to be together at the same time.
Strange, she thought.
And kind of cute.
She wondered what that must be like—to have an identical twin; to look at your face in someone else’s every single day of your life.
Different, she imagined.
Then, all at once, as though he felt someone staring at him, the twin on the left turned his head slightly, gaze cutting to the bar, and August, in a breath. His stare landed on hers, holding tight enough to make her chest constrict with the intensity she found behind his dark irises. She sucked in a quick breath, electricity dancing over her skin when his stare lingered a beat longer on hers before he then took in the rest of her.
A slow perusal.
He didn’t try to hide it at all.
And every inch of her felt it.
By the time his gaze lifted to meet hers again, August was sure there was a red flush to her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to stare at him, but with his twin at his side, it was hard not to notice the gorgeous man. And it didn’t seem to matter because he clearly didn’t mind her staring. Not when he had no problem with looking right back, and appeared to enjoy what he found.
Or, that’s what his sexy smirk said.
Goddamn.
Was it hotter in here?
It felt like it.
The man across the club quirked up a single eyebrow, tilting his head to the side with an almost silent question that she swore whispered over her skin without him ever having to say a single word. It sounded like do you like what you see?
August cocked a brow right back at him.
The response prompted the twin on the left to flash perfect, white teeth in a grin that had her stomach doing flipflops. His tongue peeked out to touch the corner of his upper lip that curled in his amusement.
And wow.
Her heart skipped beats.
“Found someone you like?”
Her staring contest with the strangely beautiful twin across the room was broken when August turned to find Camilla grinning at her side. A bottle of her favorite whiskey in hand, and a whole line of shot glasses already lined up on the bar, she must have been standing there enjoying August’s little show for a while.
She wasn’t even ashamed.
“Who is that?” August asked, not bothering to look the twins’ way again.
“The one on the right is Bene—Benedetto. The left, or rather, the one now coming your way looking like he wants to take a bite out of you, is Beni—Benito.”
“How can you tell the difference?”
“The leather bracelets they wear. Bene’s is always on his right, Beni on his left. The same position they always stand next to each other. And he really is coming your way. Use their nicknames, they prefer it. Oh, and don’t mention the strange twinness things they do. They really can’t help it, and don’t even realize when they’re doing it.”
“Coming my wa—”
“Smile, Aug,” her friend murmured, “because he looks like he’s a man on a mission, and from the rumors I have heard ... you want to be the woman his attention finds. Smile.”
“Cam—”
“I’ll just leave this with you, and go find Tom,” her friend interjected, handing the bottle of whiskey over but taking two shot glasses full of the amber liquid for herself. “And have fun!”
“Cam!”
Her friend was already walking away.
August watched her go until—
“Ciao.”
Oh, wow.
His voice.
She knew it was him without even needing to turn around to see him. Because his voice caused her skin to pebble with goosebumps, and her heart picked up speed all over again. His close proximity had her body heating up like nothing else, and a grin started to form on her lips as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
“You here with someone?” he asked.
August squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, still not ready to turn around. If she did it before she was ready, she would probably embarrass herself, and that was not what she wanted to do here. Not by a long shot.
“Just my friends,” she said.
“Cam, yeah. Her husband is a friend. Your name?”
August finally decided to turn around, then, coming face to face with a man who looked like the gracious and good God above had spent just a little more time creating him. Up close, it was far more apparent to her just how beautiful he was.
Strikingly so.
“August Rivera,” she said.
He held out a hand.
She took it.
And that heat?
Only burned hotter.
“August,” he said, as though he were tasting her name in his mouth. And goddamn, it sounded good coming out of those full lips. “Beni.”
“Cam let me know.”
“Did she?” He winked. “Can I get you a drink?”
She waved that bottle. “On the house—I’ll get you one, how about that?”
“I do like a woman that wears Frankie Zombie, and gets her own drinks.”
Yeah, wow.
She was fucked.
August knew it already.
“How much did that custom cost you?” he asked.
August turned a bit, showcasing the strap near the buckle on the side of the leather jacket with Frankie Zombie’s custom graffiti that spelled out PAY FOR ART. “Exactly what the artist thought it was worth, you know?”
Beni nodded. “I respect that.”
“So, a drink?”
“Absolutely, bella.”
Beautiful.
She knew just enough Italian to know a compliment when she heard one, thanks to her father, and Camilla’s family.
“And then,” he said, leaning in a little closer while his grin deepened into something wickedly sinful. His position gave her a better whiff of the cedar and smoky scent of his cologne mixed in with the leather of his jacket. The smell was mouth-watering—intoxicating. Everything this man was all rolled into one, delicious scent. “... what might I be able to do to make this night better for you?”
August didn’t even have to think about it. “A dance.”
“You got it, baby. Whatever you want.”
• • •
Beni was gorgeous. No doubt about it. His body fit perfectly to August’s as they moved together on the dance floor, his hips swaying to the beat alongside hers as she held her drink high when their group cheered as the song changed to something with a sexier tempo.
But it was his hands that August liked the very most. The way his hands grabbed tightly to her body, long, strong fingers flexing on her waist or hips ... fingertips dragging her cami higher so that the pads of his fingers could skim over her overheated skin.
Yeah.
His hands had her thinking naughty fucking thoughts. Like what he might be able to do with them, if they were between her thighs. Or how his fingers might taste sucking on them while he was fucking her into oblivion. Better yet, if he was using those hands to hold her down as he made her scream into the bedsheets.
Yep.
Those hands of his were made for sinning.
And she wanted to be a sinner.
They ran in the same circles, she realized soon after he dragged her to the dance floor. That’s why he and his twin had come to the club—because Tom, Cam, and the rest of their friends were going to be there.
It was great because she didn’t have to leave the safety of her friends to chill with the guy she had met. Although, to be fair, she didn’t feel unsafe with Beni at all. She didn’t know where his twin had disappeared to, and he didn’t mention him.
So, she didn’t ask.
Besides, she was too busy enjoying this.
August turned a bit, spinning away from Beni to face him, but he didn’t let her get far. In a blink, his hand wrapped firmly around her wrist, that heat from his touch lighting up fireworks all through her body when he dragged her close again.
Only this time, they were face to face.
He came closer.
She stared at his eyes, the way they darkened when his gaze drifted to her mouth, and he swallowed hard. He wanted to kiss her. And fuck her—God, she wanted that, too.
“Do it,” she whispered.
It had been a long time since August partook in the club life. Well, since Camilla had been living in New York, and clubs were their scene even while they weren’t legal to drink. Fake IDs got them in, they’d have fun, pick up a guy, and head home either with a partner, or alone with each other.
She hadn’t done this in a while.
Didn’t know if she was doing it right.
Not that it mattered.
It felt right.
“If I kiss you,” Beni murmured, his tone thick with a promise that sounded oh, so wicked, “I’m not going to want to stop until I get you out of here, and in my bed, baby.”
That baby again.
She didn’t like that, usually.
And yet, she did from him.
August dragged her teeth over her lip before using the tip of her tongue to wet the seam. “That sounds like something I definitely want to do.”
“Don’t tempt me, woman.”
“Scared you can’t handle me?”
A warning flashed in Beni’s eyes.
Sexy, and dark.
“Is that what it is?” she pressed.
How much more would she have to push before he snapped?
Apparently, not far.
That comment did it.
He tipped his head down, closing the distance between them to get his lips on her. And damn, she felt that kiss every-fucking-where. She felt it the moment his mouth crashed with hers, the way his lips moved along her own, coaxing the seam open so his tongue could slip in to war with hers. He dominated the kiss, and she didn’t mind letting him, the taste of him and whiskey heavy on her tongue while the noise of the club faded into the background.
She’d lick that taste from him.
Suck it from his tongue.
His hand on her waist tightened, dragging her even closer, letting her feel the hard ridge of his erection straining against his jeans, and pressing into her body. His other hand came to rest on the length of her braids, although he seemed to know better than to tug on her hair.
Thank fucking God.
A sexy moan escaped his lips, vibrating into their kiss, and surely making her wet between her legs. How was it possible for her body to feel so needy and ready from nothing more than a kiss? That heat had taken over, threatening to drag her under the warmth of this man, and the scent of him soaking into her lungs with every ragged breath she took.
Hungry.
That kiss was hungry.
Between them both.
Beni pulled back a bit, baring his teeth, bottom lip trembling as he murmured, “Are you coming home with me tonight, or not?”
“If I say no?�
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“Then, it’s no.”
She heard his unspoken but in there.
“But?”
“I’d still like to see you again, either way.”
All right.
“I guess you’re taking me home, Beni.”
He grinned, mouth opening to speak. It was the sounds of bullets shattering glass over the sound of the club’s music that stopped the words from coming. That, and the fact that he took her to the floor, covering her body with his own. Screams echoed all around them.
Friends calling out names.
The music scratched violently before stopping.
“Beni!”
“Camilla!”
“Beni!”
August was silent.
Shaking.
Beni was quiet and calm in her ear, though, those strong hands of his holding tight, even through her trembling. “It’s okay—we’re okay.”
Were they?
5.
Yup.
Nothing like bullets to make a man’s dick shrink.
Although, his cock and dwindling lust was now a background thought as Beni pulled August up from the floor. Mostly because, in his haste to get her on the ground when he first started hearing the gunshots, he had forgotten she was holding a glass with a drink.
“Ow,” August mumbled.
He grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her chest so he could see the damage. For the moment, he was more worried about her than the moving people around them. The familiar voices of their friends doing a roll call, checking in on everybody, passed him by as he looked over the scrapes on August’s palms.
Not bad.
Not bleeding, really.
Just ... there.
And that pissed him off.
Not thinking about it, he raised her palms, and pressed quick, soft kisses to each. “Sorry, we’ll get these cleaned and wrapped up. I didn’t mean to—”
Her shaky breath stopped him from saying more, his gaze drawing upwards to find her staring at him. “It’s okay.”
Beni still didn’t let her go. “Does it hurt?”
“Stings a bit.”
“They have creams at the hospital—”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Oh, my God, August! Are you all right?”
Beni dropped August’s hands, and stepped back in just enough time for the tiny tornado that was Camilla Rossi to step in. His friend’s wife was a force to be reckoned with on her good days—he didn’t want to find out what she was like in this situation.