28

Scar

Fucking obscene.

That was the correct word for Rita in that bikini.

It shouldn't get to me like this. It's a bathing suit—women wear them all the time. I've seen thousands of good-looking girls in tiny bikinis in my life, but I've never stared at them like I keep staring at Rita.

I can't tear my eyes away.

She's a goddamn miracle. Long legs, toned stomach, breasts like heaven, ass like a symphony.

I want to shove her bathing suit bottoms aside, slide my fingers between her legs, and taste her moans on my tongue.

Instead, I sit on a chair next to Orin while Rita chats with Molly, the two women lounging on towels in the sun.

"This is the life, my boy," Orin says, grinning. His sons are in the ocean, boogie-boarding. "This is why we do what we do."

"Can I ask you something?" I struggle to look at the old gangster instead of at my wife—my fake wife.

"Please do." He tilts his head back, smiling, sunglasses over his eyes.

"Does this make the risk worth it?"

He lets out a soft grunt, li