Page 23 of The Enforcer

He didn’t tell her to stop crying. He let her do it as he washed her body and tried to soothe her soul in a way only he could. Tino had always been the kindest killer she had ever known. Maybe because he was never supposed to be a Cosa Nostra hit man, just like she wasn’t supposed to be standing there bruised by a man she had never loved, but married anyway.

“Do you think I’m disgusting?” she finally asked as the soap ran down her body and did absolutely nothing to make her feel clean.

“Oh Jesus, Bri.” Tino’s voice was a rasp of agony, cracking with tears as if he understood why she was asking. “No.”

“Am I, Tino? Tell me. Don’t lie. I don’t want you to lie to me.”

She wiped at her face, making her eyes sting from the soap she hadn’t realized was running down her fingertips. She held her hands under the spray, blinking at them past the burn and seeing nothing but the glint of her rings that she had put back on her finger after the show.

She pulled them off and threw them against the wall. She stared at the golden wedding band when it rested next to her foot by the drain, and kicked it again for good measure, because she hated it and all the pain it represented.

Before she could kick the engagement ring too, Tino cupped her cheek and forced her to turn to him. Then his fingers were tangled in her hair, and his lips were on hers. She moaned at the feeling of exotic nostalgia that slipped into her veins, and he took advantage of it by thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He was moaning too, something raw and primal and pained as if he was experiencing that same adrenaline shot of pleasure and emotion.

Like they had never been forced apart, suddenly they were pressed together, wet skin against wet slippery skin, clinging to each other because they were both traumatized and terrified the beauty would be ripped away before they could taste it.

Tino moved his lips down to her neck, licking at the water, nipping at her shoulder. His hands were on her ass, his cock hard against her stomach, but she could feel him somehow slipping through her fingers, moving lower as if something deeply rooted was forcing him down.

Brianna’s head had been tossed against the wall, but she jerked forward and grabbed his face, her nails digging into his cheeks that were rough with stubble as she barked on instinct, “Who am I?”

Tino’s dark eyes were glazed and glassy as he stared at her tits rather than her face and whispered in a faraway voice, “You’re Brianna,” as if he wasn’t sure if she were real. “You’remyBrianna.” He ran a hand up to the small of her back, pulling her closer. She arched into him, enabling him, completely weak in the face of seeing him again. “Dio,” he groaned and sucked one taut pink nipple into his mouth with a reverence only Tino could show.

She didn’t want to enjoy it, the worship that at its core came from such a horrible, dangerous place. Tino’s words of warning from the past reared up and haunted her, because they had been burned into her brain whether she wanted them to be or not.

“You don’t love a whore, Brianna. Never forget that. You take from whores. Use them. Don’t love them.”

She flinched as Tino said it, but all she could manage to choke out was, “Why?”

“’Cause they’re love starved. They’ve been hurt and beaten for so fucking long they are desperate for kindness. Love them, really love them, and they’ll die for you. They’ll bleed for you. Like a fucking dog. My father knows that. He used me against Nova for years. Why do you think Nova’s so feral? He knows not to let anyone too close when the Borgata owns him like it does. They own me too, Bri. A different job wouldn’t change that. They still own me, and I can only have one owner.”

“But I don’t want to own you. That’s not what I’m asking for,” she promised solemnly, even if taking possession of such a sensual, purely sexual man would never stop being a temptation. “Can’t we be equals instead? If we can’t have the rest, we can at least have that.”

“Don’t ever say that.” Tino’s voice was harsh, but his lips were soft as he pressed a kiss in the valley between her breasts. “Just let me take care of you. Gimme that.”

“No.” She shook her head, even as she caressed his dark hair, pushing it away from his face that was almost too handsome to be real. “I want it all. I want it for both of us.”

She didn’t understand back then the real danger of having Tino, someone so deadly, be unbendingly and undeniably loyal to her, but she did now. She knew it too well, but she still wanted it all.

She caressed his hair as she had that day, pushing it away from his face that was even more striking. His features had lost the last bits of youth during their separation, leaving the carved, hard beauty of a man in their wake. The shadow of stubble darkening his jawline made him appear more rugged than she remembered, but it was a look that worked surprisingly well for Tino.

“Let me.” He breathed against her breast before he licked at the trail of water running down the slope of it. “Let me, baby.” He tightened his hold on her hip, his fingers almost bruising in his desperation. “Please.”

She didn’t agree out loud. She couldn’t give voice to just how much she needed it. She didn’t know how this had happened to them. How life could be that cruel to turn her into this woman, damaged by life, love starved and willing to use Tino for his beauty and raw sexuality that had always been more of a curse than a gift, because damn if he wasn’t good at it.

And damn if she wasn’t letting him do it.

Even if she hated herself for it.

She tried not to think of the reasons why Tino had reverted to his old ways and was on his knees within five minutes of being naked with her, but she knew it probably made him very popular in Garnet. He was a sexual chameleon, able and willing to be whatever they wanted with complete and total disregard for his own needs.

No rules. No hang-ups. No limits.

Gorgeous and rentable to any woman willing to use him instead of love him.

Even now, Brianna wasn’t totally certain Tino even knew what his own needs were. They’d gotten lost somewhere along the way, and Tino might never know what he would’ve been if life had been kinder to him.

She moaned, feeling his rough palms on her thighs, his lips moving down to the back of her knee, and it felt good, but she tightened her hold on his hair anyway.

“No,” she whispered, before he could move lower and kiss her feet with the same reverence with which he was worshipping the rest of her. “I’m not her. I’m not any of them,” she reminded him and then asked again, “Who am I, Tino?”