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buddy. I’m not firing my
best dancer just because you couldn’t hold your own in a tussle. It sounds like
all he hurt was your pride, anyway. Losin’ my business is too steep a price to
pay for your stupid pride. Next time pick on somebody your own age!” Bruno
slammed the phone down and walked back to the bar.
    He retrieved his pad and pen. He decided he’d give his Uncle
Guido a call if this lawyer guy tried to muscle him about Garrett.
    Nobody wanted to get on Guido’s bad side. Uncle Guido liked
to play Italian mafioso whenever somebody tried to strong-arm him or one of his
clients. “You wanna swim wid da fishes?” was his favorite line. Bruno smiled to
himself and returned to his inventory.
    * * * * *
    Felicia sighed as Garrett’s lips feathered down her throat
and into the channel between her breasts. She laid her head back on the couch
and slid a hand under his shirt, scratching her nails gently across his flesh
as he undid her blouse and pulled it back to expose the sexy silk and lace
demi-bra she wore.
    His tongue slid across the tops of both breasts, dipping
beneath the lacy edge of her bra to tantalize her already rigid nipples. One
hand slid down her hip and found the hem of her skirt.
    It didn’t take him long to locate the panties that matched
the sexy bra.
    He slid his warm fingers across her panties and over her
clit, caressing it through the damp silk. She sighed and went limp, seeming to give
herself over completely to the pleasure he was creating. He nudged her knees
apart and settled between them, kneeling on the floor in front of the couch.
    Her skin was pale, flawless, and so exquisitely soft. The
muscles in her thighs flexed as he slid the silk of her panties aside to glide
a finger into her warmth. She gasped with obvious pleasure, her mouth coming
open and her tongue sweeping across her lips as if she were hungry.
    Garrett was hungry too. He reached for the sides of the
flimsy panties and pulled them over her thighs and calves, kissing a trail down
to her soft, white feet as he went. The panties came off and Garrett lifted a
foot to his mouth.
     
    Felicia’s eyes popped open as she felt the warm wetness of
his mouth enveloping her big toe. She giggled self-consciously.
    He grinned. “Tickle?”
    She watched as his tongue made a sensuous trail across her
instep, causing her to shiver in unrestrained lust. Then he nibbled her arch
and she came up off the couch, arching her back with pleasure.
    Garrett settled her foot into his groin and pulled off his
shirt.
    Felicia pressed the hard ridge of flesh beneath the zipper
of his jeans. He stood up and pulled her off the couch. “Let’s get more
comfortable.”
    She allowed herself to be led into his bedroom, which, like
the rest of his home, was decorated in a stark, masculine style that was
understated and classy.
    The king-sized bed was covered in a black-and-tan comforter
with oversized pillows. He pulled the comforter back and turned to her, peeling
off her blouse and bra.
    Felicia reached for the zipper of his jeans and slid it
carefully down. She giggled as the Road Runner peeked out at her.
    Garrett laughed. “I knew how much you liked him.”
    “I’ll never look at Saturday morning cartoons the same way
again.”
    Garrett slid the short zipper of her skirt down and let it
fall to the floor, leaving her naked before him. Felicia fought the urge to
cover herself as his heated gaze moved over her.
    He examined her with an intensity that made her palms sweat,
his bright blue gaze sliding hungrily over her. Felicia had a sudden urge to
dive under the covers.
    Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he
lifted a hand and reached toward her. His touch was featherlight, only the
barest tip of one finger. He touched her lips—oh so softly—and then moved
downward, feathering a skin-tingling trail over her chin, down her throat and
into the valley between her breasts.
    There, he laid his palm over her heart and slid it,