by Quinn, Cari
Then I rose between her legs and with a shaking hand, guided my aching dick back into her drenched slit.
“More.”
She nodded, already giving in to my demand. She arched her back and dragged her nails down my forearm, offering those sharp slices of pain that always drove me higher. And as I stroked into her, hard and fast, she used her free hand to play with her nipples, still trapped by the bra, giving me a show that was mine and mine alone.
Right now, I could pretend I would never have to give her up. This gorgeous body and giving heart and beautiful soul belonged only to me.
“Just for me,” I murmured, and she twisted one tight peak, whimpering as I bumped her sensitive clit with the base of my dick. “Tell me this is all just for me.”
“For you. Yours.” She moaned. “God, you fill me up.”
She filled me too, in ways I didn’t have words for. Leaning forward, I loomed over her until the dagger on my rosary dangled over her exposed nipples, making her pupils widen in fear or arousal or some combination of both. My hands clenched on her spread thighs and I wedged them farther apart, surging to the depths of her then taking a slow, dragging trip back. I was so close to coming that my painful balls slapped her ass with each pass, but if I came, this would be over. And these moments of connection where she stared up at me as I opened her more and more, demanding she take all of me, offered a completion beyond the physical.
Here we were joined, absolutely. Moving as one.
She slid her hand up my arm to my biceps, tracing the years of scars mixed with ink. Reverence lined her face as her fingers learned me. Then she cupped my cheek and fused our mouths so that her breath became mine, and mine became hers.
When she cried out and convulsed around me, my control snapped. My hips barreled forward one last time and I finally emptied inside her, wishing with every fiber that it was truly inside her, no barriers. Nothing keeping us apart. I wanted her full of my come, and to watch it spilling out of her.
I wanted every experience with her, and to know they would have no end.
Instead of collapsing on top of her, I rolled to my back. After I took care of the condom, I drew her on top of me. She sprawled on my chest, still breathing hard, smelling of my shower gel and dirty sex. The best smell in the world.
“I can’t quit you,” she mumbled against my throat. “No matter how scared I am, or how much I know I’m going to get hurt…or even that you’re going to get hurt, and that will be the most painful thing of all. I …just can’t stop.”
Eyes closed, I stroked her hair and hoped the erratic beat of my heart would lull her to sleep as it usually did. She rarely stayed the night because her sister worried, but she claimed to sleep easier with me. She always wanted to put her head on my chest to hear my heart. To know I was breathing beside her. If doing that kept away the bad dreams that still resurfaced from that night in the back room, I was happy to be her pillow.
I would do anything for her, anything at all. Except one thing. The most important one.
I would not back away from the Andrettis. No matter what.
“You know about my sister now,” she said sleepily, curling her hand into my side. She touched me constantly, especially after sex. Separating when our bodies were still hot and damp from each other—not going to happen.
Separating from her ever was going to be hard enough.
“I know the basic story, yes. But I don’t know how it affected you.” I brushed her hair away from her cheek. “You were what, eleven?”
“Yes. Eleven and a total tomboy. Ame—Mia,” she corrected, “was the girly girl back then. She was a cheerleader. Can you imagine?”
“No. I really can’t.”
She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. I’d never heard a mournful one before, but hers was. “He nabbed her coming home from school one day. She was in her cheerleading uniform. They found one of her pom poms where she disappeared, but nothing else. Not a trace. It was as if she vanished into thin air.”
“Your only sibling,” I murmured.
“Yes. I adored her. After my mom died, she took over. I looked up to her in every way. Then she was just…gone.”
Though it wasn’t the same at all—Dante hadn’t been kidnapped—I related so much to what she’d gone through. Losing my mother young and having to get used to his absence in my life when he’d chosen a path that took him away from me. Our backgrounds couldn’t have been more different, but we had those points of connection. Of intersection.
“Three months.” I rubbed her back, trying to help her through the story. Hoping it would ease some of the burden she carried to tell it. “How did she get free?”
“She killed him.”
I said nothing. What could I say? Except Mia and I had more in common—or would have soon—than I’d ever guessed.
Both responsible for ending a life.
“He went out one day, and she managed to get out a window. Broke the glass. When he came back, she cut his throat.” Carly burrowed into me, though I doubted she even realized she was doing it. Her skin had gone from hot to covered in goosebumps in moments. “She came back to us, and I was so happy. But I was so stupid. I didn’t understand she wouldn’t be the same. That she couldn’t be. He’d broken her, and yeah, she’d put herself back together again…but the pieces didn’t fit the same way anymore.” She let out a shaky breath. “Then my daddy died. Seeing his little girl like that, knowing what had been done to her, and after he’d lost his wife… His heart just gave out.”
“Oh, God, tesoro. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around her, trying to transfer as much of my body heat as possible. We’d been warm a few moments ago, but the cooldown happened quickly, especially this late in October. I kept the temperature in the apartment on low, because I was rarely home and never got cold anyway. I’d have to be more careful now, because—
Because nothing. She wasn’t mine, and she wouldn’t be around much longer.
Just like you’re not planning on being around much longer, right?
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” She pressed her face into the crook of my neck and curled around me that much tighter. “But I lost them all so close together. My mama, my sister, my daddy. All the years since, I’ve been waiting for more tragedy. And I guess I went looking for it.” She lifted her head and studied me with cool, clear eyes. “I told myself all I cared about was the money and the attention from men. I’d been so overprotected for so long. God, Mia didn’t let me out of her sight for years.”
“Understandable.”
“Yes. It was. But I felt overlooked, overshadowed…ignored. My only use was to be protected. I wanted to make a move for myself. Even if it was the wrong move.” She let out a pained laugh. “So fucking wrong. How did I end up shaking my tits for strangers, Gio?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
We’d both done things that probably made no sense to outsiders. I was the last one who could judge. I hated that she danced, but I would never condemn her for it.
“You’re young,” I began.
“I’m not that young. And I’m not stupid, though I do a damn fine impression sometimes.” Without warning, she rolled off of me and tucked her breasts back in her new bra. “Let’s go to the store. Your kitchen is bare.”
Baffled, I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. “You want to go shopping at,” I checked the bedside clock, “three-fifteen in the morning?”
“Yeah. I do. I texted Ame and told her I was with Jenna, though Lord knows if she believes me. I don’t care. I’m here tonight, and that’s what matters.” She grabbed my hand and tugged me off the bed. “Do you cook? You have to cook. You’re Italian. It’d be a sin if you didn’t have recipes handed down from your mamma and nonna—” She broke off and looked down at our loosely linked hands. “Could I be any more insensitive? Probably not.”
“It’s fine. As you said, it’s been a long time.” I brought our joined hands to my mouth and gave her
fingers a quick kiss. “Yes, I used to cook a bit. Nothing fancy. I’m not in culinary school,” I teased, hoping she couldn’t hear the hollowness in my voice.
The more I tried to pretend morning wasn’t coming, the louder the clock in my head became. We might have tomorrow, might have the day after. But there were no guarantees.
After living with none for so long, suddenly they were all I wanted.
“But you do have recipes?” She bent to gather her clothes, finally relinquishing her hold on my hand to get dressed. “Like, mmm, some kind of delicious homemade marinara, with spices and hand-rolled meatballs? Or maybe your family made your own pasta. Spinach fettuccine is my favorite. When I have my own kitchen—” She stopped as she noticed my smile. “What?”
“The way you talk about food proves how much you love it.”
“Oh, yeah. Well, yes, of course, I do. It’s my passion.” She ducked her head, laughing a little. “Plus, I’m hungry. Starving, actually. It’s like I got the munchies without needing a joint.” She coughed. “Umm, not that I know anything about that.”
“Of course not.” My smile grew as I grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a new T-shirt from my dresser.
My gun was lying in plain sight on top of the shirts. Clearly not where I’d left it.
I glanced back at Carly and watched her tuck my shirt into the hem of her skirt. Apparently, she wasn’t changing out of it.
I looked back at the gun and slipped under the clothes. She’d seen it. That was why her mood had changed between when I’d gone in for my shower, and when I’d come out. Either she’d decided to overlook it or she was in some serious denial.
Glad to know I wasn’t alone.
Once we’d dressed, we walked out into the crisp fall evening like any other couple. Hand-in-hand, laughing at nothing. It was late, but the city was up all night, and there were still people in the 24-hour corner store down the block. She grabbed a noisy, rickety cart and pushed it down the narrow aisles, excitedly pointing out everything to me. Rice flour, almond paste, fresh button cap mushrooms. Her adoration of food and all its combinations was truly something to behold.
And her joy made me smile in a way I hadn’t in too long to remember.
“What do you feel like?” She held up a package of sausage and one of bacon. “For our breakfast.”
“Hmm.” I pretended to consider. “How about both?”
“A man after my own heart.” Carefully, she placed both in the cart, then stopped to peruse the eggs. She settled on a half dozen and set those in the cart with the makings for an omelet she’d already selected—colorful peppers, ham for cubing, onions, and her button mushrooms. I’d be eating like a king, that was for sure.
A fitting last meal.
“Oh, and cookies! We need cookies.” She rushed up the baking aisle like a cook possessed. “Which do you like better? Oatmeal or chocolate chip? Maybe oatmeal chocolate chip, but we’ll use these peanut butter chocolate chips that—” She bit her lip around her grin. “Okay, so I’m hungry. I like food.”
“And you’re sexy as hell, so it’s working for you.” Playfully, I pinched her butt and she yelped and nearly dropped her package of chocolate chips. “Watching you is making me hungry too.”
“For cookies?”
I leaned closer and spoke near her ear. “For fucking you in the kitchen while you’re wearing nothing but heels, an apron, and a smile.”
“Oh. Hmm. I like to always be super hygienic while preparing food, but I suppose I can make an exception this once. Not ‘til we eat, though. I really am starving.” She dumped the chips in her cart and happily wheeled it away, muttering something about needing coconut milk.
In no time, we were back in the kitchen in my apartment, and she was humming her way through meal prep. I’d never had a full course dinner before breakfast time. Tonight would be the first.
From where I was stationed at the granite counter watching her work, I decided I’d had a few firsts this evening already. First night in forever I’d ever wanted an evening not to end. First woman I’d watched cook since my mamma. First time since Emilia that I’d ever longed for…
Everything.
“Appetizer first.” She sliced mini bagels and sprinkled a fancy cheese mixture that she’d put together over them, plus some basil and a pinch of herbs. “These just need to broil for a couple minutes.” She opened the toaster oven just as I realized where she was going.
I jerked to my feet. “Carly—” Too late.
The pan clattered to the tile floor, mini bagels, cheese, and herbs flying everywhere. I looked up just as she removed the gun I’d stashed in the toaster oven.
“We can’t pretend, can we?” She held the weapon away from her body and turned to me with desolation in her big blue eyes. “Every time we try to be a normal couple, to just relax for a night, there’s going to be guns, and threats, and d—”
“No.” I wouldn’t let her say it. “Not between us. It can’t touch us.” I rounded the counter to her and held out my hand. “Give me the gun.”
“Why should I? You clearly have enough of them.” She dropped it on the counter. “How can you need so many guns? Why, Gio?”
Shame crowded through me, pushing away the pleasure I’d found with her tonight. And all the other nights we’d spent together. I wasn’t supposed to find happiness again, with her or anyone, but somehow it had happened anyway in the midst of all my focus on the past.
“You’re going to end up dead,” she whispered, and she might as well have been Nostradamus spitting out a damn prophecy. Because I sure as hell felt a ghost walking over my mamma’s grave. “You can’t spend time with men like that, men with no compunction about hurting people, and arm yourself to the teeth and not have it come back on you. The company you keep matters.”
“Carly…” I brushed her hair away from her face and she flinched, turning away.
It hurt. It fucking ripped something open inside me, a wound I’d thought long ago scarred over, and made it freshly bleed all over again.
“I’m not going to your funeral. Do you understand me?” She pivoted to face me with red-rimmed eyes. “If you fucking die, I’m going to hate you for all eternity, and I’ll dance on your goddamned grave.”
Cupping her cheeks in my hands, I tipped my forehead to hers. She was shaking again, with rage or fear or both, and it was all my fault. “That’s probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me, baby.”
She let out a sniffly laugh and threw her arms around my neck. “I don’t want to lose you. Not when I’ve finally found—”
I covered her mouth with mine, because I knew how she was going to finish that sentence. I knew it because I could’ve finished it myself.
Not when I’ve finally found you.
Seventeen
At eight-thirty-nine the next morning, I sneaked into my apartment wearing Gio’s shirt over my revealing club outfit and a smile. The smile only went two layers deep.
Underneath, I was stressed and exhausted and worried as hell. But the top layer was my just-got-thoroughly-fucked-three-times smile, which served a dual purpose. If I encountered my sister and she seemed suspicious, I’d openly allow her to think I’d been out being debauched. She’d assume it was with Salad Hut boy, and I would let her because I was a horrible human being.
But my sister had left a note.
At the gym training with Fox for the fight.
The fight being the upcoming one in less than three weeks with Gio. The same weekend I was due to quit the club.
I wasn’t going to miss that fight, so I’d just have to find someone to cover for me. Like, oh, Nancy, whom I’d covered for recently. If only she hadn’t just quit in a flurry of swear words. Even so, I would not be deterred.
Mrs. Knox wasn’t home either. She must be opening up the women’s department store she worked at now a few days a week. I had a feeling she’d be going full-time soon. She really seemed to enjoy the job. And good for her. She’d needed to be out from u
nder Fox’s dad’s thumb for a long time now.
I stared longingly at the currently empty bed. I could use some sleep on an actual mattress, with no long, hard dicks to distract me from restful slumber.
Just a little while, I promised myself, stripping down to my brand new, beloved underwear and slipping under the covers.
“Where did you get that fancy underwear?”
What felt like approximately six minutes later, I peeked one eye open to find my sister eyeballing me in a way that was more than a little disconcerting. Of course one of my boobs was half hanging out, but that was due to hasty readjustment at Gio’s that morning.
Gio.
Oh, fuck. I rolled on my back and tugged the sheet up to my neck. I’d really rather if she didn’t see the assortment of hickeys all over my neck and my cleavage.
She might want me to be happily screwing the nice salad boy, but I wasn’t supposed to have quite that much fun doing it.
“Oh, this old thing?” I faked a yawn. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were training with Fox?”
“He’s working out with Emerson and Timmins. He doesn’t need me there. He says I criticize him too much.”
“I would never believe such blasphemy.”
She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the bed. “So I get a little hyper. Emerson seems to do a better job with him than I do. He’s filling in for Slater in Fox’s corner,” she added.
Slater. Exactly whom I intended to have a little pow-wow with today, after I got some studying in. Thanks to my constant state of exhaustion due to my insane schedule lately, I was getting behind on my studies. I had a quiz next week on French soups I needed to bone up on.
All the other kinds of boning I’d been doing lately were taking its toll.
“So you’ve just given up on Slater then.” I leaned up on my elbow. “Not like you, sis.”