“Angelo—” He tightens his grip. Moves his pinky up a millimeter. “A sin. Now.” Holy crow. Alberto is crossing the drive toward us and Angelo’s hand is practically on my pussy. “I don’t know. I don’t know—” “Yes, you do.” “Please,” I whisper, my gaze frantically watching Alberto’s own. He’s just feet from the car now. “Let me go.” “Then tell me.” “I can’t.” “I’m not giving the option, Aurora.” “No—” “Now.” Alberto is passing the front tires. “This morning, in the sea. I was fingering myself thinking about you.”
