by Virna DePaul
“What else did she ask you, in the car?” he asked as they swayed, trying to keep his wits. Her breasts were so soft and full, rubbing against his chest with every motion.
“About you and I in high school, mostly. Why we broke up and stuff like that.”
“Did you tell her it was because you wanted someone else?” The gruff words came out before he could stop them.
She froze and tipped her head back to meet his gaze. “Someone else?”
“Yeah, the guy you broke up with me for.”
She stared at him with confusion before blinking then looking away from him. She’d gone pale, and he assumed she was uncomfortable talking about their breakup. Worried that he was still harboring hurt or anger. He sighed.
“Who was he, anyway? Someone I knew?”
Her eyes skipped to his, then she shook her head. She bit her lip before saying, “It wasn’t easy breaking up with you, Gio. But in the end, we were very different, weren’t we? And that’s what I told Nana.”
A spark of irritation shot through him as the band shifted tempo into a slow, bluesy song and a few other couples joined them on the floor.
She used to say that a lot when they first started dating. That they were too different. Whatever differences they’d had, he’d only seen as a good thing and suddenly he wanted to remind her of that.
He tugged her closer, pressing her flush against him as he gripped her hips tight. Her low gasp barely registered as the blood pounded in his ears at having her this close to him again.
She felt different now. Softer in some places, leaner in others, but that didn’t stop the memories from flooding back. Her hard nipple in his mouth, her tight channel milking his fingers as she came for him. How warm and slick she’d been when he’d finally thrust inside her.
His cock pulsed and thickened and he bit back a groan as he anchored her hips more tightly to his.
“W-what are you doing?” she hissed. But she made no move to pull away.
“We’re supposed to look like we’ve reunited after fifteen years. Makes sense we wouldn’t be able to keep our hands off each other, doesn’t it?”
He tipped his head back and held her gaze as he flexed against her, letting her feel his stiff length, gauging her reaction.
Her lips parted on a sigh but it was the subtle flutter of her hips against his groin that pulled him up short.
All rational thought fled. The thump of the bass, the wail of the sax, and the feel of Rosie in his arms again had him on autopilot. He speared one hand into her hair and gripped tight as he yanked sharply and then slanted his mouth over hers.
So fucking sweet. So damned soft. He plunged his tongue into her mouth, growling low in his throat when she fisted her hand in his shirt and arched against him. His thick cock pulsed and bucked, fighting the good fight in an effort to get closer. Her strangled moan gave him life as he gave her hair another tug.
How many times had he thought of this? Rose in his arms, rubbing against him? Rose on her back, thighs spread wide as he licked and sucked until she screamed? Rose riding his cock, beautiful tits bouncing above him as he worked in and out of that tight little pussy?
It wasn’t until the sound of applause echoed around him that he pulled back and reality came crashing in again.
“Whew, it’s getting hot in here, folks!” the singer of the band bellowed into the mic. “You guys are invited to come to every gig we play with moves like those.”
His cock was like a hot poker, aching with the need to be inside Rose, but he managed a grin and nodded. “Just let us know when and where, we’ll be here all week.”
He turned back to Rose to find her staring up at him, shell-shocked. He released her, only to have to grab her arm again a moment later to steady her as she stumbled against him.
“Sorry, I…”
She wet her swollen bottom lip with the tip of her tongue and trailed off.
But he didn’t need words. The look on her face said it all. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Which meant, boyfriend or not, all bets were off.
And before the week was up? He would know what it felt like to blow Rose Whitman’s mind, one more time.
Chapter 8
Rose was no stranger to terrible ideas.
Like the time she’d convinced Michael that coloring on paper was for babies and their mother would be thrilled if they drew an amazing mural on his bedroom wall. Or that time she’d jumped off their back deck with an umbrella in hand thinking the wind would keep her afloat like Mary Poppins.
But not even grounding for a month or a broken femur seemed as dire as the hot water she’d gotten herself into by coming on this trip with Gio.
Because this water was freaking boiling.
Rose pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the backseat window and blew out a sigh, relieved to at least have that restaurant and its cursed dance floor in the rear view mirror.
“You feeling all right, dear?” Nana Ginger asked, her voice tinged with concern.
“Oh, yes, I’m great. Just a long day traveling and all,” Rose reassured her, turning to shoot the older woman a smile as fantasies of opening the door and leaping out filled her head.
Surely, with a solid tuck and roll, she’d survive?
“I bet. Especially after all that rug cutting we did, huh?”
She and Nana Ginger had indeed cut some rug back at the restaurant. Once she managed to catch her breath and get her wits about her after her run-in with Gio that had left her breathless and aching, it had turned out to be a lovely, if bittersweet, evening. One full of delicious food and raucous laughter and joy.
She got to know Gio’s aunt and grandmother, and danced with her and Alice, but she also got to watch them all together. And though the good-natured teasing and inside jokes made her laugh, they also made that gaping hole in her heart feel even more empty.
To make it worse, Gio had revealed he thought she’d broken up with him because she literally wanted a different guy. What was it she’d said to him on the phone when she’d broken things off?
I thought I wanted you and then I realized you weren’t the guy I wanted, after all. End of story.
She’d meant she wanted the Gio she’d thought she’d had—one with the courage and sensitivity to stand up to his friends when they’d been making fun of Michael—but Gio had believed she’d actually wanted someone else, when she’d been so in love with him no one else had existed for her.
The idea that she might have hurt Gio even more than she originally thought by making him think he was so quickly replaceable made her heart ache.
So why don’t you tell him the truth? her conscience bleated.
She would, just like she’d told Rafe. After the wedding. Their week together wasn’t about the past. She was here to help him with his family. Then they would be moving on. She couldn’t allow herself to consider anything else.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears and she blinked them back.
They were pulling up to the house already, and, after a polite amount of time, she’d be able to slip away and get herself together. Tomorrow was another day. She’d already gotten through the first and biggest hurdle by weathering the initial Nana Ginger onslaught. Now that she knew the lay of the land and what to expect, it would only get easier.
So long as you don’t let Gio put his hands on you again, a little voice in her head warned.
“Looks like your sister and Alec are here,” Aunt Alice said to Gio as they pulled in the driveway.
Excellent. More family fun.
But by the time they piled out of the car and got into the house, she’d managed to rally and get her game face back on. This was what she’d been hired to do and damn it, she was going to do it to the best of her ability. She only had six more days of this to go. Less, even. Years back, that rock climber had lasted a hundred and twenty-seven hours wedged between two boulders without water almost that long. She could do this.
As footsteps rang down the stairs, sh
e painted on a wide smile and tried not to think about how that same guy had cut off his own hand to save himself.
“Oh my God, Rose!”
A familiar looking young woman with long, dark hair reached the bottom of the stairs first, arms open wide.
“You look amazing. Just like high school, only sexier,” Michelle said as she pulled her in for a hug.
Michelle had been a few years behind she and Gio in school, but they’d crossed paths from time to time. Rose had always liked her, and she warmed instantly as they embraced.
“You too! It’s great to see you.”
Michelle stepped back and launched herself at Gio, who wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Hey, big brother. I’m so glad you’re here. And I’m even gladder you didn’t bring some airhead arm candy with you.”
Rose’s lips twitched at that comment as she introduced herself to a tall, lean guy with golden hair who turned out to be Michelle’s fiancé, Alec.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, everyone meet everyone, etcetera. Now let’s not all stand here in the foyer like we’re having a butler’s meeting or something, hmm?” Aunt Alice said, waving them all into the great room.
Michelle and Alec offered to grab everyone a beverage as Aunt Alice, Nana Ginger and Rose set their purses down and slipped off their shoes.
Rose made a beeline for a comfortable looking armchair made for one like it was a life raft as the others scattered around on the love seat and couch. She tried not to react to Gio’s knowing smirk.
The second they had drinks in hand and Michelle took her seat between Alec and Gio on the couch, she turned her attention back to Rose.
“So, I heard a little bit about how you reconnected, but tell me more. How long have you guys been dating on the sly? I’ve been so busy with wedding stuff, I feel like an idiot not realizing my brother was hiding something from me.”
Gio’s gaze was warm on her face as she cleared her throat and recited the response she’d practiced in the mirror about a hundred times.
“It’s only been a few weeks now.” She hated lying to these lovely people, but an image of Michael floated through her mind and she pressed on. “After we went on our first official date as adults, it became a habit pretty quickly. Since then, we’ve been together as often as our busy schedules allow.”
“I always knew you guys were good together,” Michelle said with a grin, idly stroking Alec’s shoulder as she spoke. “Even in high school, he used to talk about you and his whole face would light up.”
Rose smiled but given the last thing she needed was to think about how happy Gio had made her in high school, she turned to Alec. “Tell me more about the wedding. When does your family come in?”
The next couple of hours flew by in a flurry of chatter, mostly about the events planned for the coming week and the couple’s honeymoon to Paris.
The Esposito family was so warm and welcoming, and, with the spotlight firmly off Gio and her for a hot minute, eventually she even started to enjoy herself and was able to relax some.
It wasn’t until everyone started yawning in quick succession that Nana Ginger stood and clapped her hands together, gesturing to Rose and Gio.
“If we’re all yawning, you two lovebirds must really be exhausted after that long flight. Come on, let me take you to your rooms.”
They said their goodbyes and followed Nana Ginger up the sweeping staircase, then down a wide, long hallway, passing several doors as they went. Ginger paused in front of one of them and gestured toward it.
Rose peeked her head in. It was a real show stopper, with gleaming hardwood floors and cathedral ceilings. Best of all, though, were the floor to ceiling windows that allowed a stunning, unencumbered view of the mighty Atlantic Ocean churning in the moonlight.
“Absolutely gorgeous,” Rose said, soaking it in.
“Was this room meant to be mine or Rose’s?” Gio asked. “Because she’s welcome to it if she prefers this one.”
“Both of yours, silly!”
It took a second for Ginger’s words to sink it, but when they did, they sent Rose’s head spinning. “B-but you said ‘rooms’,” she murmured softly as she shot Gio a panicked look.
“Yes. Rooms.” Ginger gestured toward the tiny sitting area and en suite bathroom off to the right with a sweep of her hand. “Isn’t it great? Like a mini-suite. You’ve even got your own little fridge for, oh, I don’t know…chocolate covered strawberries and champagne, maybe?” she said with a wide grin.
“Oh, Nana, we don’t want to make it weird for anyone by sleeping in the same bed. You don’t have t—”
“Stop it. I insist! I know when you were in your twenties, I used to be a bit of a prude, but at this point, I’m afraid I’ll be pushing up daisies before I get any great-grands, and it’s not like Rose is some floozy. You’re in a real relationship.”
Rose wanted to reply, but shock coalesced with guilt-induced nausea and she could only stare in silence at Ginger’s joyous smile.
To his credit, Gio tried one more time, “Okay, but my parents and Aunt Alice—”
“Couldn’t care less,” she concluded, her voice ringing with a note of finality. She gave them a broad wink as she rapped on the wall with her knuckles. “And don’t worry. These walls are real thick, so feel free to get at it and start making me those babies!”
She paused at the entrance to the room to dim the lights a little. Then she wiggled her fingers at them before closing the door with a firm snap.
Gio stared at the door for a few seconds before glancing at Rose.
Would she think he’d planned this? Because, while it would be a lie to say he was disappointed, he didn’t want her to think he would pull some sort of shitty move on her.
“I had no idea she would do this,” Gio murmured, voice low as his grandmother’s footsteps faded down the hall. “I always get a hotel room if I bring a woman to a family event, and the two times I didn’t, we slept in separate rooms out of respect for my grandmother’s old fashioned values. Apparently, great grandchildren trump values.”
Rose was still staring at the door like a deer in the headlights and he almost felt sorry for her.
When she finally turned to face him, relief shot through him as helpless laughter bubbled from her lips.
“Don’t worry, I know you didn’t plan it. Jesus, you should’ve seen your face. You looked as shocked as I felt,” she said, green eyes gleaming. Her laughter had taken on a semi-hysterical edge as she continued, “And when she pounded on that wall? Oh my God, she kills me. You’re so lucky, Gio. Your family is wonderful.” The laughter began to subside as she looked around the room again, gaze locking on the bathroom. “Look, I’m going to take a long, hot shower and then we can figure out how we’re going to sleep tonight, okay?”
He had a feeling she needed the space as much as she needed the shower and he nodded. “Sounds good.”
She made her way over to the closet and flung it open to find all of their clothes hung up and put away. As she surveyed the contents, she muttered something low under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “panties” but then threw her shoulders back and grabbed some items from the closet shelf.
“Give me twenty minutes and the shower’s all yours,” she said as she made her way to the bathroom, careful not to brush him as she passed by.
The door closed behind her and he scrubbed a hand over his face.
This whole bedroom thing could go one of two ways. A: It could be just the catalyst she needed to accept that there was still something very real between them. Or B: It could ruin all the groundwork he’d laid on the dance floor and send her running the other way. For his sake, he hoped to God it turned out to be A or it was going to be a rough week.
He was reclining on top of the bedcovers staring out at the roiling sea when she stepped out of the bathroom half an hour later.
To his disappointment, she was already dressed in her pajamas. Not like he expected her to be naked or wrapped only in a towel, but
a guy could dream.
And even still, dressed in a modest pair of soft-looking leggings and purple night shirt that slouched off one smooth, sexy shoulder, just the sight of her was enough to get him hard and throbbing again.
“You’re up,” she chirped as she rubbed at her wet hair with a towel.
He crossed the room toward the bathroom and slowed at the open doorway as a rush of lilac and vanilla filled his nostrils.
He was calling it now. If he went to bed in this state, there was no way he’d make it through the night without having his first nocturnal emission since he was a teenager.
He cranked the shower on full blast and stripped quickly, groaning as his rigid cock bounced up to slap against his stomach. The fucking thing was like a loaded gun with a hair trigger, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. If he had to spend the night with Rose within ten feet of him, he was going to have to take care of it.
He soaped up and washed quickly, a man on a mission. Then, he closed his hand over his straining cock. With a growl, he began to move it slowly up and down, letting his eyes drift shut as he recalled how Rose had looked on the dance floor.
Lips parted.
Eyes at half-mast, hot and needy.
Nipples pressing tight against her shirt.
He squeezed more tightly as he worked his shaft a little faster in long, even strokes. What if no one else had been there? Would she have let him tear off that shirt and see those gorgeous, rose-tipped tits?
He gritted his teeth as another rush of blood drained south, filling him to the point of pain.
And what if he had turned her around and laid her over one of those little oak tables? Would she have let him take her from behind? One hand in those soft, red curls as he pressed her face into the smooth wood, released his heavy cock and slid deep inside her tight, clutching heat?
He gripped the water-slicked tile wall for purchase as every muscle flexed.
And what if Rose were here right now? Would she drop to her knees and take him into her mouth? Would she lap at him in cat-like little licks to tease him, or would she dive in and swallow him whole, working his length deep down into her throat?