“Mm.” The low contented sound rumbles in his chest, reminding me that he is very much a man, and I am pressed up against him like I’ve never heard the words “we’ll take this slow.” I angle my chin up because I need to feel his breath on my face. I want to bathe in the masculine scent of him.
I can’t not kiss this beautiful man. Not when he’s looking at me like that.
Like I could never offend him.
Like my worries are all that matter to him.
I know it’s not true. He’s got the world on his shoulders—or at least his third of Mayfield is on his shoulders, which is the entire vampire population of the world. Still, he pauses all of that and drinks in my features as if I captivate his attention no matter which storm he’s mired in.
His lips are soft when they meet mine. Before Rome, I hadn’t been kissed in years. I was so out of practice, I worried I’d forgotten how. But this beautiful man is patient with my imperfections. He keeps one hand on the base of my spine while the other traces the apple of my cheek, turning my face to just the right angle for him to do as he pleases.
Oh, how he pleases me. One kiss multiplies quickly, trailing into a whole field of bliss. I don’t remember it being like this when I kissed other guys. Maybe there’s a difference between making out with a guy and kissing a real man. Maybe it’s the added scandal of our differing races coming into play. Whatever it is, I can’t get enough. I want miles and miles of this. The more he kisses me, the further away my worries about our date become, until they are so far in the distance, I can’t be bothered by them any longer.
“Only me,” he murmurs between kisses. “Tell me you’ll only kiss me.”
“Only you.” It’s an easy promise to make.
This isn’t exactly slow, swearing exclusivity on our first date, but I don’t care. Kissing another man would be a punishment, now that I’ve been spoiled by Rome’s sensual lips.
He presses his mouth harder to mine, reminding me of his fangs. The added edge of danger could be a thrill, but it’s a true testament to the fact that I actually care about this man when I back off, tapering the kiss with pitters and patters of affection instead of an all-out plundering. One nick of his fangs on my lips, and he could die right in front of me.
This fire we’re playing with could burn us both if we’re not careful.
Rome’s lashes flutter contentedly as he holds me to him. “Mm.”
I love that delicious noise he makes, letting me know I am having just as much an effect on him as he is having on me.
Now that I am here in his arms, I know I will never want to be anywhere else.
Yes, this is going to get messy.
21
Only You
Colette
Rome thumbs the curve of my hip as the lake air teases my thick curls. “This is a good beach. I like it here.”
Though, he’s not looking at the lake, but at me.
I rub his chest and rest my cheek against his shoulder. “I like it here, too.” I love the way his chuckle vibrates through the solid structure of his chest. “Do you want to go for a swim?”
Rome hesitates before he answers. “I suggested the beach because it’s far away, but I almost couldn’t find my bathing suit. It hasn’t been used in like, a decade. Probably not since our families went to the lake together on joint vacations.”
His stomach tightens with a grimace. I know it’s because he feels old and didn’t mean to give voice to it.
I bury a kiss in the side of his neck. “Let’s give it a shot. But first, how about we stay here like this for a little longer.” My voice is quiet, as if I am unaccustomed to asking for what I want.
Perhaps the quaver in my voice is because what I want isn’t something I should be voicing at all.
“We can stay like this forever.” Rome’s answer is simple, but I can tell it surprises him as thoroughly as it does me. As much as my picky brain wants to convince me he makes declarations like this all the time to women, I can tell that’s not the case. He’s a private person, just like me.
I guess we’re both entering a whole new world with this.
Rome is my indulgence, my delicious treat that I don’t have to put down after a few nibbles.
He holds me while he leans his back against the tree. His arms curve around me because our bodies can agree that there is nothing better in life than this. My lashes flutter shut when he rests his cheek atop my head, holding me in place so I can enjoy this moment. It almost didn’t happen because of my own cowardice.
When I am finally ready to part my cheek from his chest, my fingers sift through his to make sure we don’t drift away from each other. “Are you ready for a swim? I haven’t been in the water since I moved back.”
I’ve been so nervous about the scandal of seeing Rome that I forgot how much I love the beach. A day with no daunting agenda stretches out before us, reminding me that life isn’t just for the tackling; it’s for living, as well.
“I’ve got my swimsuit in the car,” Rome says, motioning to the only other vehicle in the lot.
It’s a little chilly for a swim, sure, but I don’t care. It’s our one chance to be a normal couple. However thin the charade, I decide I desperately want it today.
“Perfect. I’ll meet you in the water.” I step away from him toward the waves, which are larger than I am used to. My shirt and shorts come off as soon as my bare feet hit the sand. My sandals dangle between my fingers as a chill rolls through me. I remind myself that this is the fun I missed out on when I was stuck in a physical rehabilitation loop. This is life throwing me a bone and showing me that my best days are stretched out before me.
This wasn’t possible for me eight years ago. I could barely make it up the stairs without assistance.
Not anymore. I’m normal now. I wear heels like a diva. I cut people’s hair with no hint of trembling anywhere in the air.
The water is pure ice when I run into it. I am fearless because this is my time to live without limits. I swallow my scream as I dive under the water, relishing the tightening of my muscles because again, that’s normal.
My arms cut through the water so I can go as deep as I like. I know I shouldn’t wander past where I can touch, but I don’t care. Today of all days, the rules don’t apply. Sure, I can swim, but I’m not supposed to put myself in a situation where I have to rely on muscular control for survival.
I haven’t had a true flareup in a year. My medication keeps all of that from ruining my life. I decide to trust it and swim deeper out into the water. I cannot see the other side of the lake, which makes it feel like I am in an ocean, swimming toward a blissful nothing.
If I could run away from my problems this easily, I would do it in a heartbeat. I’m grinning from ear to ear as I swim further and further toward my freedom.
They said I would never be able to live on my own. The doctor said I would have to have full-time help forever.
Screw them all. They don’t know what a determined brat I can be when I really want something.
I swim until my arms ache with the effort. Then I turn and tread water, surprised at how far I’ve gone from the shore.
Rome is standing on the sand, unwilling to set foot in the water. I can’t say I blame him. It’s still freezing, even several minutes after I immersed myself.
I have to see what he looks like in a bathing suit. I have vague memories of our family going swimming with the Valentinos. Nino-bear and I made sandcastles and played near the shore while Declan swam with Orlando and Fintan in the deeper water. Rome was usually on the shore, watching us all like the consummate grownup he’s always been. Even our parents occasionally went into the water, but I don’t remember Rome ever coming in more than getting his feet wet.
Once or twice on every trip, I always tried to kick my way out to where Declan, Orlando and Fintan were swimming. I wanted more adventure, smiling at the danger.
As I swim toward the shore, my smile fades at the worry on Rome’s face. He’s got
his arms crossed over his chest as he frowns at the waves. I want to address his displeasure, but the sight of Rome in fitted swim trunks makes me forget anything above the waist.
Of course he’s got a sculpted body. That’s no surprise. But when I think the term “swim trunks” I picture baggy board shorts that hide the better aspects of a man’s lower half.
The suit he’s wearing is wine-colored and fitted to his tight backside. They’re cut like boxer briefs, only shorter and more tailored.
If I thought I understood true sexiness before, I had no idea what lust actually felt like until the sight of Rome in his butt-sculpting swim shorts did me in.
When I get close enough for my feet to touch the sand, relief pings in the back of my mind. Safe, it tells me, sounding like my nurse. I itch to go back out to the deeper water, but the lure of this beautiful man so scantily clad takes precedence above all else.
“You coming in?” I call above the crash of the waves. I love the feel of being buoyant.
“Not unless you’re drowning. It’s freezing! I don’t know what I was thinking, suggesting a beach when fall is just around the corner.”
“You were thinking you wanted to show me how sexy you are in those shorts,” I call, not holding back my obvious lust. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you wear a color before.”
He looks down, arms still crossed, and then tilts his head at me. “I was changing when you got in, so I didn’t even get to see your suit.”
“Shame.” I smirk wickedly at him. “It’s barely a suit. A few scraps of material held on by a string.” That’s not entirely true, but he doesn’t need to know that. He needs to get in the water so he can experience the magic of the lake.
Rome swears, running his hand over his mouth. “Come here and show me.”
I turn my chin from side to side, mischievous and ready to insist I get my way. I crook my finger in his direction, beckoning him to join me.
“Are you hungry? I brought a picnic lunch.”
My heart melts at the thoughtfulness. “You did? That’s so sweet. After we swim, yes. I’ll be ravenous.”
“Is it warmer out where it’s deeper?”
Nope. “Sure. Let me warm you up.”
He sticks a toe in, looking like a giant baby. He flinches. “It’s freezing!”
“Come on in, and I’ll let you warm me up however you like.” It’s a bold statement, but I trust him. That, and my overactive teenaged hormones aren’t enjoying the distance between my half-naked body and his.
That seems to be the ticket. Rome sucks in a lungful of air, steeling himself as he grits his teeth and runs for me.
I laugh at his pained shouts that sound like he is being electrocuted. He doesn’t stop when he reaches me but splashes the water with his choppy movements. His arms crash around my waist. He tackles me under the water, giving me a fresh reminder that no, the water doesn’t warm up this time of year just because you’re in it longer.
When our heads break the surface, Rome’s teeth are chattering so bad, there’s no chance we’ll be kissing anytime soon.
Laughter bubbles out of me as he swears over and over, frozen in place with fists clenched. His body refuses to get used to the cold.
I laugh at his wet features. “Ho! Oh, baby. You look chilly.”
He narrows his eyes at me while my laughter grows. I can’t stop the happy sound even as I wrap my arms around his neck. I press a kiss to his immovable scowl. To sweeten the deal, my legs twine around his waist, trapping him against me. This is exactly where I want him when he is so scantily clad.
“I’m freezing! This is awful! You look so happy and natural in the water, and I’m an old man wanting my orthopedic mattress and an electric blanket.” He swears again. “Is it possible the water’s gotten colder?”
I can’t stop laughing. I can’t help it; I love this version of him when he has an actual reaction to his surroundings. He’s so controlled all the time with Orlando and his people. Only I get to see Rome all fidgety and grumpy like this.
“This is it. This is our place. I want to come here every week, even when it’s the dead of winter. I want to see you exactly as cute as you are right now.”
He scowls at me. “Cute is for teddy bears and puppies. I’m a man and I don’t like being cold.”
“Then I’m proud of you for pushing yourself and trying something outside of your comfort zone.” I kiss his frown again, unable to get my giggles under control. “My precious puppy-wuppy.”
He ceases all movement (aside from the shivering he cannot control), meeting my eyes with genuine surprise. “You want to do this again?”
“Exactly this with exactly you.” I peck his closed lips.
“We’re making plans to date regularly?” Finally a smile sneaks over his demeanor. “I like that.” He motions to the waves. “This, I hate. Actual hate. But knowing I get to look forward to Wednesdays every week now is the perfect antidote to my dreary workload.” He kisses me slowly, letting me taste the luscious smoothness of his lips. I can tell he’s mindful of his teeth chattering, so it’s a quick slip of his lips against mine. Our foreheads press together, creating a cocoon of intimacy for our secrets. “Thank you. I was worried when you didn’t show. I wouldn’t have been mad; it’s a big deal, what we’re doing here. I would have understood if you’d stood me up.”
I know he is telling the truth. Rome, of all people, understands how high tempers can fly between our families. It’s a big risk we’re taking, but it’s the only option that makes sense to me.
“I belong where I put myself,” I tell him, clinging to my mantra as my body bobs around his. “And in your arms is where I want to be.”
Rome kisses me. It’s a closed-mouth blessing because his teeth are still chattering too wildly to be safe. When his forehead glues to mine, I can tell by his steadying breaths that he is gearing up to confess something important.
My fingers tangle in his hair at the back of his head, coaxing the truth out because I want to know him.
Rome touches his nose to mine. “I have to warn you, I’m hard to tolerate. That’s why I haven’t had a steady girlfriend I’ve been able to commit to for any substantial amount of time. I work a lot.”
I can’t hold back my amusement. “I had no idea.”
A wry smile cracks his face, but then vanishes. “I usually don’t like things exclusive, but I know if another man looks at you twice, I won’t handle it well. The other women I’ve dated could come and go, but you?” He shakes his head. “Mine only. And I’ll make you the same promise. Yours only.”
I chew on my lower lip while I mull over his demands. “I have Friday night obligations once a month. Unless we’re willing to tell my family, I have to go on whatever dates Fintan sets up for me. It’s one of the reasons they agreed to let me move home.”
Rome swallows hard and then nods. “I can understand that. Only first dates, right?”
“Only first dates. My lips and my heart are yours.” I don’t mean to say that last part, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I cannot fathom kissing a man who is not Rome.
But I also cannot fathom telling my brothers and my father that I’m off the market because I want to go to the beach every week with the head of the Valentino family.
“Say it again,” Rome demands, his eyes shut tight as if the thought of me dating around causes him actual physical pain.
“I’m yours. Only yours.”
He nods a few times, no doubt committing my promise to memory so he can call upon it when I have to go out on the forced blind dates.
Rome kisses me again. “I’m overbearing when I care about something or someone. Nico hates me for it. You might resent me.”
I draw slow swirly designs in the hair at the back of his head. “Then you’ll have to work on that, won’t you. Admitting you have a problem is the first of many steps. Step one, done. Step two, run all overbearing nonsense through Orlando. I have a father and an older brother who have too much of a say over
my life. I want a sexy man, not a prison warden.”
My father had power of attorney for several years, but I don’t mention that to Rome. I don’t like to think of that period at all.
I swallow hard. “I don’t need another brother. I need a boyfriend who trusts me to be an adult.”
Rome takes my wisdom in stride, nodding to tell me he will work on it.
It’s not everything, but it’s enough to assure me that what we have is real, and worth holding onto.
So that’s exactly what I do for the next twenty minutes. I hold onto Rome, floating in our affection at a safe distance from the rest of the world.
We meet at our beach every Wednesday for the next two months, tangled under our tree, keeping each other warm while the world turns cold around us.
22
Blood Ninja Disco
Colette
Though I lived overseas for ten years, Declan and I talked on the phone every day, never missing a beat in each other’s lives. Though I would never say aloud that I have a favorite brother, everyone accepts that it’s him. Declan knows all my secrets—except for my reoccurring dates with Rome.
Which isn’t something I will be telling him ever.
Rome gave me a bracelet last week at our beach. Though my brothers rarely pay attention to my jewelry, wearing my new bracelet in front of Declan is a scandal that makes my heart race.
Declan talks with his hands, even when he’s driving, just like me. I learned most of my bad habits from him. “You know, I’m up for a promotion. Just found out this morning that I’m being considered for shift supervisor.”
My eyes widen as I blow out a long whistle. “That’s awesome. I mean, smart move on their part. You’re the best paramedic they’ve got.”
Declan bats his hand in my direction. “You’re only saying that because it’s true.”
Though he looks like Fintan—short brown hair with a slight wave to it, upward slope of his nose and a rounder chin, his affinity for smiling makes him look entirely more charming than Fintan could ever become.
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