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Vespa smacked his arm, and it wasn’t gentle. “Fine, make fun of me! I haven’t done this before and already feel awkward as hell.”
He shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “Not making fun.” He reached out, rubbing a finger down her nose and making it twitch. “It was the wording, not the sentiment. Some people prefer to leave, but I don’t mind sleeping together if that’s something you’d be comfortable with.”
Her eyes dropped to his cock. “We already did that part.”
His cheeks hurt from his grin. “I said sleep, not fuck. Though I’d be up for another round in the morning if you want that, and maybe breakfast.”
Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t eat breakfast.” She glanced at the bed. “I don’t know. I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
He studied her face. “Not even with Montrell?”
She blew out a breath. “I already told you we aren’t like that.” Her brow furrowed in thought. “Wait, we might have passed out when we were locked up together. But that was years ago. We were basically kids.”
Antonio’s curiosity stirred along with his anger. She said the words like the incident was nothing, and even shrugged, but someone like her getting locked up meant there had to be more to it. He forced himself to move away so he wouldn’t reach for her. Heading toward the bed, he bent to pick up the unused second condom and slipped it under the pillow before lying down naked.
She eyed him as if he were a puzzle to figure out.
“It’s late. Unless you tell me to go, I plan on sleeping here tonight.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Join me if you want.”
Vespa bit her lip, and he could almost see her gears turning. Then she stomped to the other side of the bed, bouncing the hell out of it as she flopped down. “I might snore,” she warned.
“I’ll let you know if you do.”
She tried to lie back but winced as her bun propped her head up awkwardly, and she jerked upright again. Her hand lifted to wrap around it.
Antonio pointed toward her hair. His heart’s rapid thumping was ridiculous, given what they’d already done, but he was really excited to see her hair down. It felt like he’d be seeing a version of Vespa she didn’t show just anyone. “You can’t sleep with it like that, can you?”
“No, but I didn’t bring a brush. This is stupid. I should go.” She turned her back on him but hesitated, her muscles quivering.
He reached out, his finger brushing against hers where they still rested on the bun. “The hotel bathroom has combs. May I?” he asked.
Her hand dropped away and twisted in the fabric of the fitted sheet. “Sure. If you want.”
His hands were more than happy to touch her hair. There were a few pins keeping it in place. He removed them first before unwinding the dark band that almost blended with her hair. When her tresses uncurled from where they had been wrapped, they fell farther down her back than he had expected. His fingers worked through her hair from the scalp to loosen it, and she leaned into his touch a little, her breath catching.
So she enjoyed having her hair played with. That was fucking adorable and made him chance doing it again. Her breathy sigh as her back swayed toward him was the sweetest reward. It was like he’d discovered a secret, and it was crazy how that thought made his stomach swirl. His fingers combed through her hair, the strands sifting through them like silk. “Feel good?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Yes, dammit,” Vespa muttered grumpily, her hand loosening on the sheet as he started at her scalp again. “No one’s ever played with my hair like that.”
His brain tried to send him a slither of warning, but Antonio ignored it as he latched onto yet another tidbit about the woman before him. “Not even your mother?” He immediately regretted the question. The word stoked the acid in his stomach.
She shrugged, causing his hands to move against her neck, and her back shuddered. Vespa liked to be touched. The acid inside him spread as he realized he’d done very little of that during their tryst.
“Never really had a mother. She died when I was a baby. My dad was always busy doing Mafia stuff. I tried to brush my hair, but I sucked at it. Got made fun of.” Her words were quiet at the end, and another upward shrug of her shoulders followed.
Antonio’s hands worked through her hair. When she relaxed fully, he felt like he did after a successful round of torture or interrogation: tranquil and sated.
The thought caused a confusing tightening in his chest, and he desperately sought a distraction. “I should have figured Coronella was a bully.”
Her body twisted so she could glare at him, just as he’d anticipated. He held in his laugh as her sadness shifted into righteous anger. “Not Montrell! He’d never make fun of anyone. He just wasn’t around much back then because he was… well…” She bit her lip. “Healing,” she mumbled.
Antonio’s eyebrows rose at the new morsel of information. “Coronella was sickly as a child?” That was the last thing he’d expected. Montrell Coronella was the largest, healthiest person he could imagine.
“No! He just—” She broke off with another glare. “Are you done? I’m tired.”
He slid her hair behind her ear, wanting to see her reaction in her eyes. The softening made him consider kissing her again, but he scooted back. “Your hair is gorgeous, Vespa.” She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing at the compliment. “Get the lamp on your side, will you?” He turned to reach for his own to hide his amusement.
The hotel room was dark except for a slash of light from the window as they lay down together. Silence fell, only broken by the squeak of the bed as Vespa turned on her side. Then she flopped to her back, her shoulder brushing his.
