Dark Soul Vol. 3 Read Online Free PDF

bristling at Silvio when he could barely stand upright, tottering on his socked feet, the low coffee table digging into the back of his knee. “I’ve done nothing like that.”
    “It hurts to see you hurt.” Silvio’s black gaze raked up and down his body, and Stefano remembered, shamefaced, the failed blowjob.
    How much more he wanted this killer than his revenge. Going toe to toe with those Russians . . . that was not what he’d expected. Wanted.
    Condoned.
    “What happened? What happened to you, Silvio?”
    Silvio leaned back, draped one arm along the back of the couch, looking like he’d been carefully arranged by a photographer who sought to display his midriff and those long legs. And, Stefano thought, the bulge of his groin. He wanted to dig his fingers into that throat, take hold of that cock, hard, feel Silvio flinch, admit that he, like any man, could hurt. Diversion tactics. He recognized them.
    “I dressed up nice, baited them, got taken to their safe house.
    Where . . .” Silvio let the pause linger, then the tip of his tongue flashed, briefly, in the corner of his mouth. “Things happened.”
    “And you let them?”
    Silvio shrugged, his eyes half-closed, dark, somewhere between sultry and menacing. “There are things about me that you don’t know.” And it’s none of your business, either , that gaze said.
    Things you don’t know. Silvio had come from being fucked by a gun. He’d come from being almost drowned. But the same man had guarded his sleep, kept flirting with him. Stefano shook his head, tried to wrap his head around someone who could be so gentle and at the same time so twisted. What else was there he didn’t know?
    And, a small voice asked, can I ever hope to claim him? Ever, really, have him?
    “Then tell me.” Stefano limped over and placed his hand on Silvio’s belly. All flat, taut muscle. The relaxed position was just a guise. Silvio was coiled and ready to attack. He splayed his fingers, rubbed that patch, felt the heat underneath the fabric. He wanted to pull the shirt free and touch the bare skin. “I want to understand.”
    Silvio took his hand and pressed it harder against his belly. “You understand more than most.”
    “But . . . dressing up like a woman?”
    Silvio smiled. “It’s useful.”
    And disconcerting. Silvio did look boyish, at times feminine, but Stefano knew too much about him by now to buy into that.
    “Do you want to see it?” Silvio asked and sat up. “Give me two hours, and I’ll show you.” No shame, no hint of discomfort. What man did that? What was this to Silvio? A real desire, wearing women’s clothes? A ruse? Battle tactics? And then that other, darker, deeper thought. That Silvio played a prostitute. That he could be bought, paid for sex. Stefano shifted on his feet, then withdrew to almost fall into the nearest chair.
    “Do you want to see me?” Silvio asked.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
    “But you do want to know how I fooled them.”
    No, I want to understand. He wanted to know everything about this man, explore that darkness that kept cal ing to him. Even if he’d never understand it, he wanted to learn all he could. “Silvio, I—have come to think of you a certain way.”
    “You want me as a guy.”
    I don’t know. “All right, show me.”
    When Silvio emerged from the bathroom in his skirt and fishnets and nearly ass-high boots, Stefano did a double-take. The killer was still underneath, visible in every lean, taut line of that body, the overly perceptive dark eyes. Yet that other side of Silvio, that sensuality, was now unfettered.
    Donata would have scoffed at those extremely tight clothes and the provocative makeup, but Stefano figured she wasn’t really the target audience. But there was something about a fresh face, long limbs and cheap “fuck me” clothes that appealed to every molecule of testosterone in his body. Now that the pills had turned most of his pains into dull aches, he might even