He'd never liked that kind, he'd though them inferior, almost as bad as being black, with their greasy hair and dark skin. He'd always resented them, ...nd their interference in his world. Especially these mobster types. Miguel Scarlatti had been impeccably polite and impeccably patient, in his silk suit and professional manicure. Oh, how he hated the man. He was probably a good ten years younger than him, and cheeky. His face was angular and serious, and his black hair was slicked back. These. "Shush." Okay, no more surprises. No kissing in class and no secret notes." he nodded. He winced as I gave him an extra hard squeeze down below to make sure he got the message.I laid back against his chest. "Did you mean it?"He reached up and turned my face to his. "The note?"I nodded. "Every word," he said simply. "From the moment I saw you get off the bus in the rain I knew it. I didn't think you'd give me a second glance if I'm being honest. I mean, look at you," He took my right breast in. More

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