She glanced over at the Americans in the corner with their beautiful wives. She quickly searched the group, but did not find Mark among them.
“You okay?” Roberto came over and asked, planting a kiss on both cheeks. His hand lingered a bit too long and possessively on her bare waist. He was Matheus’s best friend, and would be in the wedding party. But she didn’t particularly trust him. The Brazilians were known for being womanizers, though Matheus had denied those rumors.
“I’m not a child, Roberto. You don’t have to hover.”
“Oh, but I enjoy it so, and I know how anxiously Matheus awaits,” he said as he leaned in too close and planted a kiss on her lips, despite her attempt to divert him. She was tempted to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but resisted.
“Go. Flirt with all your lovers,” she said as she pushed him aside.
They completed the dance demonstration, Sophia engaging the sunburned crowd. She danced with men as well as women, even a few children who were hanging out around the shallow pool on deck with their Brazilian and Italian Bahia Club staff who entertained the youngsters.
Her thoughts about the handsome American were distracting…how he had looked that morning in her bed as she poured water down on him, how his muscled arm behind his head and dancing eyes lit up her insides. How he’d wanted to cover her up earlier this afternoon.
She suddenly did feel shy. Naked. Undressed. Admiring eyes were all around her, and she smiled back, even pretending to flirt. But that wasn’t who she was, either.
She wasn’t American, although she had an American passport. Even though she had an American last name: McAdams, the one lasting thing her father had given her besides her life.
She wasn’t Italian, either, even though her mother was, and had grown up near Savona, and had retreated to Italy upon the death of her husband. Sophia had missed her teenage friends in California, but soon became Sophia of Savona and put most of her American upbringing in the past, because it was easier to forget the pain of losing the first man she’d ever loved, her father.
Though she’d tried for years to forget, when her ears picked up an American accent, she felt drawn to it like a moth to the flame. Her attempts to find adventure in the cities and towns of the world by working for the cruise ship lines had nearly worked. She’d said a temporary good-bye to her mother yesterday, although she’d join Sophia in Brazil for the wedding next month.
Had her mother also felt anything like what Sophia impulsively longed to do with this American man?
She should have just pretended it was a mistake, not told Mark about Matheus, kept her distance, because of her job. The rest of the dancers could be sworn to secrecy, but sneaking around didn’t suit her at all.
If you get that itch again, I’ll be around. Not going anywhere for twenty days.
God help her, but it was way more than an itch. It was almost like a blood bond, like in those vampire books she loved to read.
Dinnertime was always crowded with other dancers, entertainment crew and some of the tour staff. She retired to the quarters she shared with Li, the Chinese contortionist.
Lying on the top bunk, Sophia stared at the romance novel cover poster from her favorite author that she’d pasted on the ceiling with special adhesive. It showed the torso of a hunky Navy SEAL, taken as the SEAL emerged, dripping, from the ocean.
She was struck by how similar Mark’s body was to this cover model. Big shoulders, veins cording over his biceps and the muscles of his forearms. Impossibly narrow waist she remembered hugging with her thighs. His massive body pressing into her and igniting everything that could burn.
No, he wouldn’t be easy to forget, but in time she would. Just had to wait out the hours at first, then the days. Eventually the lonely nights in her tiny bed, in the belly of the ship would do their work. Rocked to sleep in a windowless space, as her world got smaller in the darkness, the colorful memory of that sparkling interlude would fade, and she’d forget. Eventually she’d surely forget.
Chapter 7
‡
Fredo watched Mia and Jasmine at the slot machines as he, Kyle, and Nick shared a beer in the bar next door. Her graceful arm was mesmerizing. He couldn’t stop watching her, really watching her, since she’d laid that gentle peck on his cheek back in Savona. It had been almost like she gave him permission to engage. And he’d been completely charmed by that little touch of her lips. He’d been carefully washing around that spot on his face for the three days since.
What that little kiss told him was that she did have some kind of feeling for him. Perhaps a sisterly thing, but, heck, it was a far cry from the scorn and acid turndowns he’d gotten constantly in the four years since he’d first met Armando and his family.
He didn’t mind that she was a wild child. He understood that. She was beautiful, and she could get away with things because she was so gorgeous. She made it impossible for men around her to even think, let alone speak. At least that’s the effect she had on him.
What he did mind was that she had made terrible choices in men. She chose men who could not protect her. Who would not love her? She picked them almost at random.
He was fascinated how her shapely legs crossed, how her third toe with the ruby toe ring glinted under the twinkle lights of the casino. The red flip-flops casually dangled, tempting her sparkling toenails. No, being wild was not a problem for him at all. Not one little bit.
If she’d just give him a chance to show her how he could make her feel, he knew he could make her happy. If she’d just give him a chance. If it didn’t work, no problem. But the fact that she wouldn’t give him an opportunity to demonstrate his devotion was killing him. It had been bugging him for years.
Now, with that little kiss, she’d opened the door a crack. He was going to take the chance. If she still turned him down, he’d stop trying. He needed to move on with his life. He couldn’t wait any longer, even for the most perfect woman he’d ever met.
Just at that moment she caught him looking her way. Her heavily darkened eyes smoldered in his direction, like there was a yellow flame dancing behind her deep brown eyes. She gave a sly half smile and turned her eyes back to the slot machine, pulling the lever. Then she glanced at him again. He kept his eyes fixed on her lovely face, her heart-shaped red lips, and didn’t move a muscle. He let her see the longing on his face, see how he’d felt about her ever since they’d been introduced. Probably wasn’t an occasion she even remembered, but Fredo played it in his mind every night before he went to sleep.
A Brazilian dance instructor came over and said something to Jasmine. The two of them walked off together, leaving Mia alone at the machine. Fredo took this to mean a fortuitous sign she needed protection.
“Okay, guys. I’m gonna go change my life.”
Kyle and Nick instantly stopped talking, and Kyle followed Fredo’s homing look and nodded. “Got your back if you need it, Frodo.”
Nick added, “Go be the man. Every woman needs a good man in her life.”
Armed with courage he strangely felt for the first time in years, Fredo stood, took one final sip to finish his beer, and adjusted his shirt, standing up straight and as tall as he could.
The room’s lights and background slot machine noise faded. All he heard was the sound of Mia’s machine, the little bracelet of Murano glass crystals on her delicate wrist tinkling like broken glass. He knew she could see him approach from the corner of her eye, and…was he wrong, or did her breath catch a bit? Just a little. God, he hoped so.
“I don’t like to see you left alone,” he said as casually as he could, but it somehow didn’t come out that way.
“I’m not alone. I saw you watching over me,” she said without looking at him, but smiling to the machine. “You always watch over me.”
He had been prepared for the usual sharp comment about him being the lapdog he certainly was, which would launch him into the place where he’d be cursing himself for wanting someone who hated him so much.
But this time it was different. She said something else, and the Heavens opened up for him.
“I’m getting to kind of like it, Fredo.” At first she didn’t look at him, but then, after she respectfully gave him enough time to adjust to her wonderful comment, she swiveled on the red leather stool and faced him. Turned to him full-on, with her dark hair a tangle all over her shoulders, framing the flawless skin of her face, the dark eyes looking warm and inviting, not biting and huffy.
She licked her lips and scanned what he knew were his train wreck of eyebrows, oversized nose and lips twice the size of hers. But this was all he had, and though he felt naked in front of this incredible goddess, he was going to stand his ground and be the man he was, and not someone else. This was what he’d told himself time and time again. Not to get lost in her, but instead be the person he was and let her come to him.
In slow motion, her hand drifted from the black ball of the slot machine lever to his cheek. She didn’t pull at his head and he didn’t move toward her. She brushed her fingers over his pockmarked face, as if to heal it. Her eyes scanned what must have been a silly expression on his face. God, this had never happened before and he hoped he didn’t look like a goofy schoolboy.
He worked to respond to her admiring exploration from the place of the man he was inside. There could be no hiding the need he had for her on more than one level.
“You have always been there for me, Fredo.”
“Always,” he answered. It was the truth.
“I have been awful to you, and still you have always been there.”
He wanted to say something like, It’s where I want to be, or I was hoping someday you’d see me for who I really am, or something corny like that. But he settled for, “Yes, Mia. I am here for you.”
Her other hand joined her right hand on his face, cupping his chin as she rubbed one thumb over his sensitive lips. He was used to giving with these lips, not receiving. The sensation she chose to give him, this tiny pleasure, set fire to his belly. He had to focus hard to keep from allowing his gratitude make him break into tears, but that’s the way he felt.
“Sweet Fredo,” she whispered.
He was about to burst. His chest swelled, and he opened and clenched his hands, which wanted to reach for her, to minister to her, but he remained still, studying this china doll who was so delicate and careful with him.
Could he trust her? Would she turn him down again, even though it seemed like something had shifted?
And did it matter, after all? Because if he didn’t try, he’d spend the rest of his life wondering what might have been. And, in a way, that was far worse than getting shot down. Taking the chance was always the right choice. Always.
He safely put his right hand on her forearm, gently squeezing it, rubbing the softness of her perfect skin. “Mia, I’ve never met anyone as beautiful as you are. I’ve always wanted the best for you, like Armani.”
She gave him a gracious smile as she removed her hand from his cheek and entwined her fingers with his. Her other hand she placed safely in her lap. “But not like my brother, Fredo. Never like my brother, Fredo. Surely you don’t mean that.”
She’d left the comment out there on the table, like she was testing him.
This was it. He’d either be man enough to say more, or he would show her his fear. Hell, yes, he was afraid he’d blow it, but he was compelled, by some golden tether he allowed to deliciously encircle them both, to move toward her. Her crossed knee brushed against the top of his thigh as he leaned in and whispered to her ear, “No. Like someone who cherishes the ground you walk on.”
He leaned back, but their bodies still touched, and she didn’t shrink away from him.
“Then kiss me, Fredo. Here. In front of all these people. Kiss me.”
He could hardly wait, but he let the moment drag out, savoring it. The slow bending, approach to her moist skin, the scent from between her breasts flooding his nostrils, the ragged hitch in her breath sending signals to his body that she was fully available to him, unlike ever before.
And then their lips met. He was going to leave it a closed-mouth, gentle kiss on her red lips, but she parted him with her tongue, suckling him, changing positions and exploring all of his mouth. He heard her inhale him.
God, could this be? Could this really be happening? To him? Fredo?
His right hand wanted to touch her, but didn’t think it proper. Struggling with himself, he brought his hand up to settle on her left hip. Without him asking, she moved closer, as if his fingers had pressed into the softness at the top of her butt, and then he realized he had pulled her to him, had splayed his fingers out and pressed the small of her back so that she was against his groin.
He knew she was used to men grabbing and claiming what they wanted. He waited, but found it stirred him the more he waited, the more tentative he was with her. His reward was to feel her flower, unfolding to him, asking for his hand to direct her, gentle her. She was asking for exactly what he could deliver.
One of her hands smoothed up his spine, over his polo shirt. He wished he’d worn a crisp dress shirt, something smooth and silky to match the softness of her palm. Her kisses moved up and under his ear, along his neck, the tip of her tongue tasting him. The hair on top of her head tickled the side of his face as she reached his ear and whispered, “I want you, Fredo.”
His first instinct was to jump in with both feet. Grab her hand and lead her off to his room, her room, and any quiet, dark place they could find on the ship. But the years of rejection weighed heavily on him, in spite of how alive and virile he was feeling.
“Mia, are you sure?”
She stopped her little kisses to look into his eyes. “You think I am making bad choices? Have I not found someone who will protect me?”
“Absolutely, I will.”
“Then show me, Fredo. Show me how you can do this. Show me your way, since mine has landed me in trouble so many times. Teach me, Fredo.”
Teach me? Had she actually said that?
She unwrapped herself from his embrace and led him across the floor. He wasn’t hesitant, but he allowed her to pull him, because he wanted to be sure. Needed the confidence, maybe. Loved that she was begging him instead of the other way around. He stole a quick look at Kyle and Nick, now joined by Armando and Mark and got four thumbs-ups, and a wink from Armando.
He didn’t want to watch the way her hips swayed in front of him, but damn, he couldn’t help it. Was she maybe exaggerating it a little for his benefit? She kept looking back at him, probably at the frightened expression he was trying so hard to suppress. Whatever it was he was showing her didn’t seem to dampen her spirits any. Her flashing smile and knowing looks told him, God, it screamed at him, they’d be naked together in just a matter of minutes.
He had just the trace of a little doubt that perhaps she was toying with his heart, but again, he had to convince himself it didn’t really matter. She’d asked him. He didn’t initiate it. And he’d let her lead the way all she wanted, until she trusted him enough to lead her, when she wanted to be led. God, he’d give her anything she wanted, and it didn’t matter if it hurt afterwards.
She slipped her card into her room door and they entered one identical room to what he shared with Jones. He could hear the blue ocean outside foaming in the ship’s wake, since the sliding glass door had been left open.
She dropped her card on the Formica desk and crossed the room to stand in the doorway, lifting her face to the breeze of the warm afternoon. Her perfume wafted to him…and she was a vision, standing there. His hands trembled, and all he could do was watch her for a few stolen seconds together in this, her room, this room that was where she slept, where she showered, where she looked in the mirror. Her inner sanctum.
He’d been focusing on her hair and how it blew towards him when he realized she’d dropped her dress to stand naked, her back still to him. His eyes traveled hungrily over her perfect, heart-shaped ass and firm thighs, her impossibly tiny wa
ist that led to broad shoulders. He was speechless that she offered herself to him this way.
Fredo stepped up behind her, his palms daring to touch the soft undersides of her ample breasts, feel her nipples knot under his touch. He found a bare spot on her neck and placed a soft kiss there, felt her moan in his chest. Stepping still closer, he rubbed against her butt.
He paused, checking, making sure she really meant what it looked like she meant, and was rewarded with her hands reaching back to clutch his ass, and pull him into her. Her torso arched up as her breasts filled his hands, as she angled her head so he could fully kiss his way from her delicious shoulder up that long neck he’d dreamed about for years. Gently pressing his groin into her backside, he allowed himself to show her his need. Her slight push back into him told him everything he needed to know.
His hands skimmed down her flat tummy to the arch of her slender hips. His fingers followed the crease of the triangle of the apex of her thighs. Slowly he glided, until he heard another delicious moan. He answered it with a low growl as his fingers discovered the slit already wet with her own desire. Slowly he ran a forefinger up and down her as she bent her knees, arched backward into him, and allowed him full access.
He one-handedly fumbled with the button and zipper of his cargo pants, keeping two fingers embedded in her silky, wet insides. His cock bounced to life, and immediately rooted at her beautiful ass, tracing the slim crease between her cheeks.
He slipped his shoes off and stepped out of the pile his pants made. He had an eight-inch scar on his chest, curved like the knife that got him there, so he left his shirt on. With both hands free, he rubbed down the length of her velvety thighs, loving the way her head rolled onto his shoulder.
Then she righted herself, raising her arms above her head, holding herself up on the sliding glass doorjamb. She pressed her butt into him and leaned forward so he could enter her from behind.
He had a fleeting thought that maybe she would be visualizing someone else pleasuring her, perhaps one of her other lovers with a more handsome face, someone she wanted like he wanted and fantasized about her. She might think of someone else just like he did when he had sex with anyone else. He knew that one well. He wouldn’t blame her. And he wouldn’t know the difference until it was all over. If she wouldn’t look at him, then he would know what she’d done.
Cruisin' For A SEAL: SEAL Brotherhood #5 Page 5