Beauty and the Barracuda Read Free Page B

to leave her be, get ready to go into the office, attempt to take his mind off her, and then she’d looked at him in that way. A stare so compelling that he’d gravitated toward her without a second thought. And when her wide eyes had landed on his mouth, he felt a tug in his lower abdomen. All he could think about was her small hands fisting his hair as she coaxed his tongue into participating in a wicked dance that left his cock hard and needy for the rest of the night. It didn’t matter how many times he’d made himself come, Sansone would only find true satisfaction when he was buried balls-deep inside Nyssa, pounding away, making her call out to God until heaven came crashing through the ceiling of his bedroom.
    He had to be a masochist, because nothing hurt worse than wanting something that was clearly unattainable. Nyssa was that something—so close and yet so very far away. How many men would’ve given up by now, found another bedmate to sooth their fragile egos? How many men would’ve been able to forget the thickness of her lashes and the impish light in her eyes? How many men would he have to watch admire what was rightfully his without the ability to voice his claim?
    “How many times am I going to have to adjust my dick today while thinking about her?” Sansone murmured to himself as he slid effortlessly out of the driver’s side of his Tundra and started through the parking garage toward Sultana & Blackwell. With the festivities of last night, he knew there’d be very little activity happening within these four walls and he was okay with that. He could’ve gone after Nyssa, being that he had tracking on his Audi, but that would be just inviting trouble rather than rational conversation.
    When he’d found her on the side of the road eight years ago, attempting to power out of a flood with no more than a hybrid and a prayer after unintentionally stealing her job, Sansone had never thought they’d make it here. The day he’d met her was the day he’d joined the sports management firm she’d been actively hustling for. Unbeknownst to him, his new position at Beyond the Goal Lines was where Nyssa belonged. She’d been up for promotion, and a superior that she’d been privately involved with had outsourced and found Sansone, hiring him and effectively belittling all her hard work. She’d been cold to the touch when they’d shaken hands, her rage reflecting clearly in her eyes. He’d had no idea it wouldn’t be their last interaction.
    Days later, he was in for a hell of a surprise while on his way home to hunker down and wade out the storm they’d been warned about several times over that week. Sansone had finished some rushed shopping in a small market and was planning to get his backup generator running while swallowing down a beer or two and some chili. That’s when he’d spotted her just a few blocks from his apartment and recognized her immediately. He’d pulled over and jumped out of his truck, fully intending to lend her a hand.
    At the time he couldn’t get over the fact that this ballsy little beauty with a mouth like one of his hard-core Italian uncles was just about being drowned by the backlash of a hurricane and still had the audacity to sweetly tell him to “Fuck right the fuck off, mothefucker”before he could even open his mouth and offer to help her.
     
    “You’re soaked and—”
    “It’s not your problem so I don’t exactly understand why we’re still having this conversation.” Dark, perfectly arched brows rose and fell as the woman before Sansone lifted a finger and spun it. “One-eight,y my friend, and walk away.”
    He was going to pull his fucking hair out. “I can’t just leave you here. Any idea how bad this neighborhood gets after dark, hurricane or no?”
    She snorted. “I grew up down the block, three houses to your left, and live up the block, four houses to you right. I know exactly where I am, pretty boy. Climb back into your Tonka toy and