Boss (Chianti Kisses #2) by Tara Oakes Page A

his touch as I begin to black out from the weight of it all. The air begins to feel thin in my lungs, and I’m unable to gasp in enough oxygen to help.
    He kisses my right hip gently, barely sweeping his silky lips, and then moves to kiss my left hip. I can’t look. I can’t watch him do what I’ve never imagined a man doing to me, but know that I want nothing more than for it to happen.
    I feel his breath, pouring over me, in between the maze of skin that folds, protects my center. I feel the warmth of his mouth, so close as to lend its permeating heat onto me.
    They’re all wrong. This can’t be bad. How can something be a sin if it feels like heaven?
    He groans deep, guttural, and I feel his body lower touching the most feminine of my flesh as it quivers.
    We both jolt harshly from the knock at the door, our euphoria fading away quickly from the bitter dose of reality.
    “Carmine!” A whispered feminine voice calls through the old wooden door. “It’s Alana. Grandpa’s coming!”
    Alana isn’t even a teenager yet, but spends the weekends with her grandparents, and a lot of time downstairs at the restaurant. She and Carmine are closer than most cousins and she swore to give Carmine any warning of visitors upstairs.
    She’s not old enough to know why we needed the warning, but it’s welcomed just the same.
    “Closet!” he calls to me in mid-motion, gathering my clothes from around the room. The room suddenly feels cold, frigid even, as I hold the pile of material in hand and follow his lead to the nearby closet. I’ve barley been fully concealed inside when the next knock at the door sounds.
    I hold my breath. There’s isn’t enough room in the closet for me to even attempt to dress, and I don’t want to risk the chance to be heard, so I stand naked amidst Carmine’s hanging shirts.
    I hear the creaking of the old floor boards as Carmine moves across them, and the swinging of the door as the hinges croak.
    My Italian isn’t used as often as Momma and Dom would like, but I am able to keep up with the pair as they say their words.
    “ Uncle Mario ,” Carmine nonchalantly welcomes the older man.
    I hear more footsteps as the second person gains entry into the room. “ Carmine , it is late, I know. I wanted to speak to you before morning, though.” I hear the door close. “ I have just heard from the Moretti’s. The phone call came no less than an hour ago. I… I needed to think it over before I told you about it. I know you’ve set your mind, but I need to make sure there is nothing I can say to change it. This is a dangerous choice you are making. A serious one. One that requires many sacrifices.”
    “Uncle…” Carmine moves to intercept the conversation. His uncle barely takes notice.
    “This is an old way, nephew. A way that many have outgrown. It is not the same as it used to be. There are other ways to live, now.”
    I can feel tenseness in Carmine’s voice, “I don’t want those other ways, Uncle. I want this. What did he say?”
    There is more than a moment of hesitation on Mario’s end. One that I can only imagine is awkward for the two men who must be staring at each other. “He said they will take you. Because of our affiliation with the DiBenedettos, they will take you. But are you ready for this, boy? Their ways are old. You will be judged and must prove yourself to them. You are young. You have much living to do, and things to see, and… and there will be no time for that if you choose this.”
    More silence. “I made this choice, Uncle. I am not going to take it back. I will bring honor to our family just as you have.”
    I hear muffled sounds that I can only imagine are those of an embrace. I may have understood the words the men spoke, but I cannot begin to process their meaning. What decision did Carmine make? Why is it such an important one that Mario was trying so hard to talk him out of?
    The door to the apartment closes, with the walls around me shaking from the