Bound for Life (Bound to the Bad Boy #1)

“Oh god, I forgot about that,” I laugh, remembering that cheesy line, and soon I can hear her laughter too.

“It was cute!” she says, and as our laughter fades, her face gets a little more pensive. “Feels like a lifetime ago. Sitting on the back of that old pickup you and the other boys worked out of. Sneaking drinks from some Italian place I couldn’t pronounce.”

I look at her, sitting there, the picture of beauty. The dim lighting in here just makes her all the more alluring, and I want to just take her right now, as if years hadn’t passed between us.

But we’re moving fast. Too fast. We need to talk, and I know it. And yet... why spoil the moment while it lasts? As if on cue, Nico sets our drinks down in front of us and heads off.

“It’s been too long, Serena,” I say, watching her as she takes her drink and stirs it pensively.

“I know,” she nearly whispers. “I still can’t believe it’s real. You, here, I mean.” She looks up at me and hesitates a moment. “Those guys, back there at the shop…”

“The Cleaners,” I say in a low tone, glancing around the bar. I don’t want to stir up commotion here, and talking about a rival crime syndicate is a good way to do that.

“How did you know they were gonna be there?” she asks.

“Things are getting rough, Serena,” I say before taking a swig of my drink. “I was worried someone might come causing trouble around your place. I was right.” She’s watching me with wide eyes. “I have to be my own eyes and ears. It’s how it always is, with these people.”

“So it’s true,” she says softly, looking into my eyes. “You’re working with…”

The words the mafia hang between us. I nod.

“It’s been a long few years, Serena,” I say. Even low, my voice is gruff, and the beard and long hair don’t help the image. I reach over and cover one of her small hands in my large, warm one. “For now, just know that I’m not going to let anything happen to you. And you don’t need to worry yourself about all that right now, okay?”

She looks at me with that glint in her eye I know so well. Serena doesn’t like things being held back from her, and I know she’ll come back to this soon enough. She’s a precocious girl like that. So it’s all the more surprising to me when I hear her say, “Alright, sure.” She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me. “Just tell me one thing, if you’re gonna be all secretive... what’s with the beard?”

I’m left speechless for a moment, then burst out laughing, putting a hand to my face. “I don’t know, really. What, you don’t like it?”

“Do you?”

I frown. “I’ve had it since…” Since life tore us apart. “For a while.”

“I think I miss your face,” she decides.

“I’ve been missing yours, passerotta mia.”

She blushes before hiding her face with her drink, which she finishes with a tinkling of ice cubes. “Woo, I forgot how strong that stuff is!”

“Careful now,” I say after finishing my own. “I know how much of a lightweight you are.”

“I’ll have you know I’ve gotten lots better,” she says playfully. Before I can reply, the sound of music floods the bar as someone turns on the speakers, and I flash a glance at the little open space between the tables—a wooden floor perfect for dancing.

Anyone who passes up the chance to dance with a pretty lady is no man at all.

“Alright, let’s see it then,” I say, standing up, and Serena flutters her eyes in confusion as I reach down to take her hands.

“Wait, what?”

“Rafaela, two more!” I call to the bartender, and she winks at Serena as I drag her out to the dance floor.

“Bruno, what are you doing?” she laughs as some of the patrons give us amused looks.

“If you’re so good at holding your liquor, let’s see it! What good are a few drinks if they don’t help you dance?”

She yelps as I swing her onto the clearing between tables that passes for a dance floor, and the next moment, I’m drawing her by the hand all around me. It’s lively music, the kind you jump into to shake off your embarrassment and get into the heat of it. Serena is laughing already. After the first few awkward seconds of jerking around, we’re dancing. I’m normally not a man who expresses himself much. Especially not the past few years. But the way Serena dances around me, the way I can lead her so easily, it kindles an old fire in me.

That, and well, dancing is in my blood.

A song goes by, and by the time the one after that is done, a few people around the bar have joined us. Our blood is racing, and after Serena and I grab another drink, we dive right back in. It’s like there’s nothing else in the world but the two of us.

We don’t need words. All that gets shed by our body language. And as I’m watching her body move with mine, leading her on effortlessly, I realize how much I’ve missed her.

More dangerously, I realize how much I want her.

I need her.

Her soft hands brush against my muscular forearms, my strong hands on her hips, her ass against my crotch, the energy between us draws us closer and closer.

She turns, and our eyes meet for just a second, and it’s like lightning flashes between us. Primal desire is bursting through, even though both of us have been trying to ignore it this whole time, but its message is plain as day.

We want each other. Now.





SERENA




M y heart is racing and I can feel every pulse of blood in my veins. Despite the three cocktails I’ve had, my brain doesn’t feel fuzzy or out of focus. In fact, everything around me seems intensified, my senses all heightened, the colors in the bar seem brighter and more garish than ever before. It’s like someone has turned up the contrast on the photo lens of the world around us. I feel exhilarated. I feel alive. I know exactly what I want.

And he’s standing right in front of me. I look up at him with a dizzy smile on my face, drinking in the vivid green-peridot of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the gentle slope of his nose. Even with that thick beard and scraggly hair, he’s painfully attractive. He’s grown up a lot since I last saw him, and I suppose that I have, too.

The scrappy young man I fell head over heels for as a teenager has transformed into a towering, musclebound, scarred, and stoic lumberjack type. If someone had told me years and years ago that we would meet again this way, I would never have believed it. After everything we went through, I assumed I would never see Bruno again.

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