Cat and Mouse (New York Mafia Syndicate #1)

Chapter 12 - Leo

Her jaw's tight. She's trying to play it cool, but I can see right through her. The sass is a front, and she's scared. She should be. I've got a gun pointed at her, after all.

"I'll put the gun away," I say, watching her swallow, the way her throat moves. Christ, why does that do something to me? "But you better not do anything stupid."

She nods stiffly. I tuck the gun into the back of my jeans, but I don't take my eyes off her.

"So, you've been calling my name," I say, voice casual, almost teasing. "That means the little piggie squealed."

She's angry. I can see it in the way her eyes flare. "His name was Miguel."

I nod. "Yeah."

"You had him killed."

Another nod. "Of course."

"Why?"

"Wasn't personal," I shrug, leaning against the back of her door like I'm settling in for a chat. "I don't like loose ends."

Her eyes narrow, but she's listening. She's always listening. "You had him killed because he knew too much?"

"Exactly."

Her face hardens. "You've been messing with me. You got me new cases, haven't killed anyone in a while. Why? Why do all that and then turn around and murder someone right in front of me?"

I grin at her. "Because I'm a nice guy, Lizzie. Didn't want you to get bored."

Her laugh is humorless. "How do you even know I've been investigating you?"

I tap my temple. "I know a lot, cara."

She doesn't like that. Not one bit. She shakes her head, taking a step back. "Why are you here, Leo?"

"I want a truce."

"A truce ?" She's incredulous, crossing her arms. I can't help but glance at the way her shirt pulls tight across her chest. Damn, I've got problems.

"Yeah, a truce. I promise not to kill anyone who doesn't deserve it, and you stop hunting me. Simple."

Her voice hardens. "Why? Afraid I might catch you?"

I laugh, can't help it. "If I wanted you to catch me, you would have by now."

She opens her mouth to argue but shuts it just as fast. I love that about her. She's smart enough to know when she's losing ground. She switches tactics, eyes narrowing.

"Why now? Why come here and ask for a truce?"

"Like I said, I'm a nice guy."

She rolls her eyes, and God help me, all I can think about is putting her over my knee for it. She's making me crazy, this woman. She's testing me, pushing.

"I'll think about it. If you tell me why you killed them."

I raise an eyebrow. "If I answer, will you tell me the color of your panties?"

Her face flushes. "No."

I smirk. "I'll settle for the toenails, then."

"Freak."

I arch a brow, waiting. And she does it. She actually pulls off her socks and shows me her toes, bright red.

"Happy now?"

"Ecstatic."

She shakes her head, but there's something in her eyes. Curiosity maybe or something darker. "You got a foot fetish or something?"

"Nah," I say, shaking my head. "I just like to see you obey."

Her lips twitch, like she's biting back something. A retort. I don't care. It's more fun to watch her squirm. But she straightens up, face serious again. "I know you think there's some kind of nobility in people, but—"

"I don't."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "You don't?"

"No." I shrug again, casual, but I'm watching her. She's trying to figure me out. "People lie. People disobey. That's life. The only difference is I deal with them in a way that ensures they won't cross me again."

"So what makes you judge, jury, and executioner?"

"Experience," I say flatly.

Her eyes don't leave mine. She's trying to find a crack, some hole in my logic. "You could have them jailed."

"That's not justice."

She scoffs. "And killing them is?"

"It is to me."

She watches me, jaw clenched, fists tight at her sides. Her heart's racing—I can almost hear it. She's trying to decide what to do next, and for a second, I wonder if she's gonna try and throw a punch. God, I hope she does.

"Why did you really kill them?"

"Because they crossed me. And because I don't like when people lie to me or disobey me."

Her eyes are locked on mine. I can see the wheels turning in her head, trying to piece it all together.

"And now, Lizzie," I say, taking a step closer, "I'm asking nicely—stay out of my business. Can you do that for me?"

She doesn't answer right away. She's stubborn as hell. I like that about her. Finally, she squares her shoulders, that sassy attitude back in full force. "I'm a detective. It's my job to get involved in people's business."

"I know."

We're both silent for a moment, staring at each other. The tension is thick and not just because of the gun I've still got tucked in my waistband. It's her. It's the way she looks at me, the way she challenges me, even when she knows she's outmatched.

"Do you even feel bad for killing them?" she asks suddenly.

I tilt my head, pretending to think about it. "No."

It's the truth. And she knows it.

"Are you serious about stopping?" Her voice has an edge to it, challenging. She's sassy, yeah, but there's fear, too, hidden in how tight her jaw is.

"I'm busy now." I shove the gun back into its holster, more for her peace of mind than mine. "But I promise—no one dies unless they deserve it. Do we have an understanding?" I say, my voice low, pushing the tension between us, waiting to see if she'll agree to my terms.

She nods. "Yeah." Her voice is soft, and I see the way her shoulders relax just a bit.

"Good." I straighten up, looking her over one last time. "I'm leaving now."

But before I can take a step, she blurts out, "I heard about your dad."

The words hit me harder than any bullet ever could. Suddenly, I'm on edge, feeling exposed, raw. How the fuck does she know that?

I take a breath, but it comes out more like a growl. "We're done talking."

"I know what it's like to lose someone. A parent."

I scoff, stepping closer. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Leonardo," she whispers my name, soft but firm, and it cracks something open inside me, something I don't want broken.

One second, I'm standing there staring at her, and the next, I'm in front of her, my hand around her neck. Not tight, just enough to remind her who's in control here.

"You're getting real comfortable saying my name." My voice comes out like a warning, but there's a part of me that doesn't want her to stop.

Her eyes—there's sadness there. Fuck.

"I don't need your pity," I snap, the anger flaring up, but before I can pull back, she does something I don't expect.

She touches my cheek. Softly, tenderly.

That's when I lose it.

I crush my lips against hers, hard, punishing, but she doesn't pull away. Instead, she melts into me, her mouth opening as I slide my tongue in, tasting her. Cazzo, she tastes better than I imagined.

I tighten my grip on her neck, pulling her closer, so close she's on her tiptoes, her body pressed against mine, my thigh between her legs. Her scent—vanilla, something sweet—fills my head, driving me fucking insane.

"You're driving me crazy," I murmur against her neck, sucking on her skin, tasting her as my hand slides down her body, popping the button on her jeans. I catch a glimpse of white lace, and it's over. I'm gone.

"Leo..." she moans, her voice shaky as I suck harder on the base of her neck, my hand slipping inside her jeans. She's wet for me. Fucking soaked.

I rub her once, slowly, teasing her, and then I slip my fingers inside her. She gasps, her head falling back, and I grab her hand, guiding it to my cock.

"Feel that?" I rasp, pressing her palm against my hard cock. "You're fucking me up, cara."

She squeezes, and I almost lose it right there. I grit my teeth, every nerve ending screaming as she starts rocking against my fingers.

"Look at me," I demand, my voice rough. "I want your green eyes on me when you come on my fingers."

"I hate you," she gasps, but her body betrays her, hips grinding against my hand as I push her higher and higher.

"Yeah? You hate me?" I growl, adding more pressure, feeling her pulse quicken around my fingers. Her orgasm hits fast, brutal, ripping through her. She trembles against me, and I'm right there with her, watching, taking it all in.

We're both panting, her body still shaking as I pull my fingers out and bring them to my mouth, sucking them clean. She watches, her lips parted, dazed.

I adjust myself, trying to regain some fucking control. She's still standing there, jeans undone, looking like a wreck. A wreck I caused.

"Bye, Elizabeth," I say, my voice steady now as I walk toward the door.

She doesn't say a word. Just watches me, like she's trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I don't even know what the hell just happened.

I pause at the door, forcing myself not to turn around because if I do, I know I'll be back at her in a second, tearing her clothes off, tasting every inch of her skin. I already know I'm gonna regret leaving.

But I have to, before I beg her to let me do it again.

The door clicks shut behind me, and I stand there for a second, chest heaving. What the fuck was that?

I've kissed women before. Had them pressed up against me, begging for more, but this—this was different. This wasn't supposed to happen. Not with her. Not like this.

Cristo.

I walk away from her apartment, the taste of her still on my lips, the feel of her body still burned into my skin, and all I can think is that I need to stay the hell away from Elizabeth before she ruins everything.

But deep down, I already know.

I won't.

I get to my car, slam the door, and just sit there. My hands are gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles go white. Fuck. I can't move. I can't drive. Hell, I can barely breathe.

Her taste is still on my tongue. Vanilla, sweet, addictive. It's burning through me, making my cock ache in a way it never has before.

"Fucking Christ." I let out a shaky breath, dropping my head back against the seat, trying to gather my thoughts.

But all I can see is her. Elizabeth, her green eyes looking up at me as she came on my fingers, gasping out my name like she hated me and wanted me in the same breath. Dio mio, the way she tasted.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn't help. My mind's already playing tricks on me, showing me flashes of her. Her body trembling under me, her lips red and swollen from that brutal kiss. Her jeans, the white lace underneath... her wetness, fuck, the way she moaned when I slid my fingers inside her.

I'm so fucking hard right now, I can't think straight.

My hand moves down without me even thinking about it. I undo my belt, pop the button on my pants, and slide my hand inside. The second I wrap my fingers around my cock, a growl rips through my chest.

"Fuck, Liz," I mutter, stroking myself hard, fast, trying to get some relief. But it's not enough. Nothing is enough.

All I can think about is her soft skin, her breath hitching in her throat. That moan, so quiet, almost like she didn't want me to hear it, like she didn't want me to know how badly she wanted me. But I knew. I felt it.

My hand moves faster, rougher, my breath coming in quick, ragged gasps. I press my head back against the seat, eyes squeezed shut as I imagine her mouth on me instead of my hand. Her lips, those soft pink lips, wrapped around me, her tongue licking at the head.

"Shit," I hiss, jerking harder. My free hand grips the steering wheel again, grounding me, but it's no use. I'm too far gone.

It doesn't take long. I groan, loud and low, as I come hard, spilling over my hand, panting like a fucking animal. My chest heaves, and I sit there, catching my breath, staring at the roof of my car like it has all the answers.

I grab a napkin from the glove box, wipe my hand off, and just sit there for a second, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Not with her. I was supposed to scare her, put her in her place, make sure she knew not to cross lines with me again. Instead, I kissed her, touched her, got inside her in a way that has me losing control. Fuck.

I shove my hand through my hair, frustration boiling under my skin. I can't stay here. Not outside her building. Not after what I just did.

I grab the keys, start the engine, and force myself to drive. The roads blur around me, but my thoughts stay locked on one thing.

Her.

Elizabeth.

I need to get her out of my head. For both our sakes.

Because if I don't, this isn't going to be the last time. And I don't know if I can stop myself from taking it further next time.

I tell myself this was the last time. It has to be.

But deep down, I know that's bullshit.