Twisted Roses

Page 108

I almost second-guess it before Delphine yanks off her helmet and climbs off the bike.
My left brow raises. “There’s people around. They’ll see you.”
“You’re with me…”
She smiles. “I don’t care anymore. Let them see. All of them.”
We join hands on our way up and earn a couple of puzzled glances. People do double takes, questioning if they see what they think they’re seeing. Assistant District Attorney Delphine Adams, who, as far as the public is aware, is running for public office, holding hands with rumored mafiacapo, Salvatore Mancino.
Their glances go ignored as we head up and find a secluded corner overlooking the Northam River. In the night, the water appears dark and glistening.
“What’s made you change your mind?” I ask. “About us in public.”
She leans against the rail, arms folded, and shrugs. “I’ve decided it doesn’t matter. Caring about what they think—how perfect they believe I am—has never brought me happiness. But you do.”
I’m thrown by the confession. I bring our joined hands up and press my lips to the back of her hand.
Delphine’s going to be okay. She’s going to emerge from what’s happened to her, stronger. I can sense it the more I study her and the determined air she exudes. She’s still the fifteen-year-old girl that marched out to the pool to confront Gannon all on her own. No back up. No cosigners.
By herself.
It’s not the first time I feel a beat of pride, though it occurs to me why it’s a quality of hers that’s always drawn me to her.
I see myself in her. In her resilience and ability to stand on her own.
We’re the same in that way. Only now we can stand together.
She seems to be thinking the same thing I’m thinking as she turns to face me and smirks up at me.
“Happy birthday,” she purrs before kissing me. “Want to take me home and unwrap your present?”
She’s teasing, being as sexy as ever. I squeeze her hips and then her ass, openly. Unabashedly.
Delphine’s right—who gives a fuck who’s watching? We’ve reached a point where we’re past hiding. Past caring what’s forbidden.
I kiss her back, a hard and hungry kiss. “By present you better mean your pussy. I’m ready to fuck you all night long. Best birthday ever.”
“You promise?”
I groan and squeeze her ass again, both palms filled up with her cheeks. “I promise to make you come so many times your poor little pussy’s going to be exhausted.”
“She can handle it.”
“That remains to be seen.”
We leave Rose Hill after admiring the view and the rest of our surroundings. Our trip home is full of more laughter, more gasps of adrenaline from Delphine, and more racing down the highway. In no time, we’re riding the elevator up to the loft with hands all over each other.
My men know not to interfere. They know to turn the other cheek as we flit through, absorbed in each other and nothing else around us. Inside the loft we leave the lights off, choosing to fumble in the dark.
Two silhouettes moving among long stretches of shadow that engulf the loft.
Tonight the moon’s full. The same silver disc we just finished gazing at on Rose Hill has followed us home, casting streaks of light here and there through the windows.
I don’t know where Salt and Pepa are. Probably lurking in the dark somewhere, once again witness to our after-hours passion.
We make it to my bedroom still trading kisses. I already know Delphine’s turned on—her breathing’s shallowed, her skin warm under my touch.