Finding Home (Coming Home Series Book 2)

by J. M. Adele

  He splashed some wine and water into the makings of the sauce, letting the alcohol burn off a bit before reducing it to a simmer. “Would you like a glass?”

  “Absolutely. Where are the wine glasses?”

  He opened the cupboard above the miniscule bench, finding only the four tumblers he’d bought the day before. Shit. “These will have to do. I’ll add wine glasses to the list.”

  She took the wine and tumblers, pouring drinks for them both.

  “Don’t bother. I’ll get them for you as a housewarming gift.” She held up her glass. “Here’s to starting out on your own. Cheers.”

  On his own? Not with her here sharing his first meal, and if his luck held out, sharing his bed for the first night in his new place. She was what made this place a home. It didn’t matter where they were standing. If he knew for sure that she’d be staying long term, he’d ask her to move in with him. He didn’t give a shit if anyone thought it was too soon.

  “To new beginnings.”

  He reached for the keys he’d thrown on top of the fridge, and took the spare off the keyring, handing it to her.

  “When you bring over my glasses, make sure you bring a spare toothbrush too.”

  “What about tampons? Are you gonna be okay with tampons in your bathroom?”

  “Whatever you need, sweetheart.” He stirred a wooden spoon through his simmering sauce, dipping his head to draw in the aromas. Tomato, basil, garlic, bacon, onion … Delizioso.

  “Really?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  She took a swig of alcohol. “You are too damn tempting.”

  “Wait until you taste my ravioli.” He took the drink out of her hand, placing it next to his, and grabbed her by the hips. “Are you going to help me make them?”

  “Do you want me to ruin them?”

  “You won’t ruin them. Just follow me and it’ll all be fine.”

  She bit her lip, eyes too big for her face, like he’d asked her the million-dollar question.

  Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

  Something told him he’d broken through another of her defenses. The ghost of hope in her eyes, or the way the tightness in her shoulders eased, and her body seemed to relax into him.

  Slipping his hands under the fall of her hair, he cradled her head, covering her lips with his. Their soft tongues curled around each other, and the heady flavor of wine enticed him to taste deeper.

  Her hands wandered up over his shoulders, down to his ass, searing his skin as they went. He wanted them everywhere. The heat in the kitchen had nothing on the fever working its way through his muscles and down to his groin. Circling his arms around her, he pulled her closer so they didn’t have a lick of space between them from chest to knee. His mind started flickering with a slide show of Chelsea’s naked breasts. Her legs, the dip of her stomach where it met her navel. He wanted her naked. In his kitchen.

  Pulling back, he flicked off the oven before a command rumbled from his throat, “Get naked.” His fingers were already working on helping her out.

  She stepped out of his reach, deciding to tease him with the slow drag of fabric down her legs, and a wicked grin on her face. He reached for her, impatient to get his hands on all that bare skin, but she skipped to the side.

  “Uh uh. Patience is a virtue, Greyson.”

  He liked his witches naughty. His cock grew painfully hard before he wrenched the pants off her legs, picked her up, and plonked her on the flour-covered table.

  “I don’t have any virtues, Chelsea. Get it off, now.” He tugged at the bottom of her shirt, teeth clenched, and eyes probably wild enough to induce fear.

  She wasn’t running away, though. Her face was flushed with a mask of desire, chest pumping as she ripped the shirt off the rest of the way.

  Grey reached around to discard her bra before whipping off her panties, feasting his eyes on the tastiest buffet he’d ever seen.

  She leaned back on her hands as his palms landed on her thighs, traveling their way down to her ankles. Grabbing on, he lifted them so her feet were poised on the edge of the table. His eyes roamed her contours and her delicate pink folds, glistening and ready for him. She was all his for the taking.

  Running his fingers from her shoulders down to cover her breasts, he played with her tight nipples. Her chest surged as she whimpered at the sensation. Her responsiveness cranking up the beat behind his ribcage. He dipped his head down, unable to hold back from having a taste any longer. With his tongue wrapped around her nipple, his palms squeezed her soft tits, reveling in the contrast. She was hard and soft. Strong and vulnerable. His salvation and his downfall.

  A cloud of flour puffed up from under her as she let her back fall flat on the table, hands finding purchase on his biceps. Grey tugged off his shirt before slapping his palms in the sticky, powdery mess beside her head. Diving in for another kiss, their stomachs dipped and pushed against each other as they fought for breath.

  It wasn’t enough. He wanted to get inside her.

  Surging up, he got rid of his pants, grunting at the momentary relief as his cock sprang free. He started to lean down again before mentally slamming on the brakes.

  Shit. Condom.

  It took Greyson two seconds to fix the problem before he wrapped his hands around her thighs and put his tongue where he wanted his cock.

  He wanted a taste first.

  Chelsea’s legs clamped around his head, and her hips circled, as her fingers threaded through his hair. He nipped, and licked, swirling his tongue over her clit until she screamed out her release.

  The grip of her pulsing body wrenched a moan from his lungs as he slid in deep. Ah, shit. She felt so good. He wasn’t going to last much longer and he’d only just begun. He was completely at her mercy.

  Chelsea lifted her hips to meet him stroke for stroke. The force between them built and swirled into an undeniable power. Lust and desire thundered through his veins and gathered in his center, ready to deliver him to ecstasy. She dug her heels into his ass, locking her gaze onto his, and he was done for. He wanted to keep his eyes open, stay trapped in her sights forever. But he had to clamp them shut as his body was seized in a barrage of sensation.

  He could still see that look, though. Her big, blue eyes telling him he was right.

  He’d found his home.

  He’d like to think she’d found her home in him too.

  Who’s The Father?

  Bounding up the stairs in Matteo’s house, Grey found his way to his old room to collect the last of his things, the noise of his heavy boots echoing in the large expanse. He shivered a little in the stark, cold space. After the novelty of the experience had passed, it didn’t seem like such a great place to be after all. It was no wonder Matteo was never home.

  Clearing out the last few things in the closet and the bureau, he headed back out to the hallway, pausing before he reached the top of the stairs when the door to the spare room opened behind him.

  “Grey?”

  He dumped his bag, turning fully, resisting the urge to rub his eyes. “Mama? What are you doing here?”

  She shuffled out in her nightgown and slippers, looking like he’d interrupted her beauty sleep, but happy to see him nonetheless. Engulfing her in a hug, the full extent of how much he’d missed her hit him like a truck. He probably squeezed her a bit too tightly, but she didn’t complain. She never did.

  Stretching up on her toes, she pecked him on the cheek. “It’s wonderful to see you. You look happy.”

  “You too. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “I wanted to surprise you for your birthday. I had to come and check out the shoe box you’ll be living in. I guess you’ve moved in already, since you weren’t here when I arrived last night.”

  “Yeah, I’m just picking up the last of my stuff. So, that was why Uncle Matteo left early last night. He didn’t breathe a word.”

  “I’d have tanned his hide if he did. Happy birthday.”

  �
��It’s not until tomorrow.”

  “I was in labor with you by this time twenty-three years ago. That’s good enough by my calculations. You were well on your way.” She combed her fingers through her tangled hair. “What are your plans for today?”

  “I was going to hit the shops to get some things for the apartment.”

  “Sounds fun. Do you want some company?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Let me clean up first. A girl has to look her best.”

  Grey waited for her in the living room, scanning the book shelves while she did her thing. He’d never taken the time to look around Matteo’s things before, since he had been too busy with his commitments. Running his finger along the spines of the books, he reckoned his uncle had a thing for thrillers. Political thrillers, mostly, but the horror genre came in a close second. Row upon row of DVD’s took up the bottom shelves, while on the top shelf, he recognized a photo of him when he was a baby, and one of Matteo with his arm around Grey’s mama, and his papà standing awkwardly at her other side.

  What the fuck?

  And where were the photos of his siblings? Why was it only Grey’s baby photo on the shelf? The questions dangled like a loose thread, able to unravel his whole life if he dared to pull. He was leaving that shit right there in Matteo’s living room.

  “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

  Putting the brakes on his runaway thoughts, he smiled at her. “You look beautiful, Mama.”

  Offering her his elbow, he led her out.

  _____

  “You’re all business when it comes to shopping, huh Mama?”

  They stacked the back of his pickup with bags of everything a guy could need for his first place. Sheets and towels, plates and an ironing board. For some stupid reason, there was a vase hidden somewhere in one of the bags.

  “I don’t muck around. You should have everything you need now.”

  “I didn’t need a vase.”

  “Yes, you do. Flowers brighten up the place.”

  He turned the radio down, switching to the country station. She loved country music. “When you see how tiny my place is, you’ll wonder where to put the thing.”

  “I’ll make it fit.”

  “Do you want to stop in at the restaurant? I’ll bet you’ve hardly seen Uncle Matteo since you’ve arrived.”

  “We talked last night. He said he was spending the day at the restaurant but would be home to cook for us all tonight. I’d like to see the place though. Is that okay?” Flipping down the sun visor, she checked herself in the tiny mirror.

  “Absolutely. I’d like you to see where I’m learning my craft.”

  Grey pulled in to park behind the restaurant. “You go on ahead, I just need to do something, real quick.”

  “Okay.”

  He took out his phone, watching the backdoor to make sure she made it inside as he sent Chelsea a text.

  Hey sweetheart. What are you doing tonight? Come for dinner at Matteo’s. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.

  Who is this?

  Very funny.

  ;P Who am I meeting?

  My mama’s in town for my birthday.

  He stared down at his phone, scrubbing a hand across his chin when the screen went blank.

  You want me to meet your mama?

  You’ve met my uncle, what’s the big deal?

  Your mama is a way bigger deal.

  She’s harmless. Are you in?

  His nerves endured another torturous minute before her answer came.

  Yes.

  He grinned like a clown as his heart beat a frantic rhythm. That yes held more meaning than three letters should carry. That yes was as long as the whole alphabet. It was more than the two months they had left together. It was the key to unlocking the future. It was the hammer that smashed the stopwatch keeping their countdown.

  She’d said yes to becoming a bigger part of his world.

  That meant everything.

  Sending her a message saying he’d pick her up at seven, he snapped the phone shut and jumped out of his truck. He picked his way through the hustling bodies in the kitchen to the office, pushing his way through the door.

  “… know who the father is—”

  His mama silenced her tongue and spun around looking like she was staring down the barrel of a gun. She gathered the front of her shirt in a tight grasp and tried to compose herself.

  “Grey. You all done?”

  Greyson’s eyes took in the frustration and disappointment on Matteo’s face as he watched her, before tracing the thread of secrets trailing through the room to his mother.

  “Yeah. Who were you talking about? Lory told me the father was Antonio.”

  “Funny how history repeats.” His uncle’s eyes drilled into the back of his mama’s head.

  “Matteo,” she snapped, spearing him with a look over her shoulder.

  “He deserves to know. Let’s sort this out once and for all.”

  Grey’s questioning gaze landed on his mother as she turned her back on him, shaking her head at his uncle. He feared the loose thread had followed them here, and was about to unravel whether he was ready for it or not.

  Matteo set his sights on Grey, resolve firm on his face. “Have a seat Greyson.”

  “I think I’d rather stand.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Please don’t,” his mother interjected.

  Matteo pushed on. “Before Lucca married your mother, she and I were a couple.”

  His mother took a seat on the bench beside the door, putting her head in her hands in silent surrender.

  “We were in love, but I wanted to leave. She couldn’t see herself living the city life so she turned me down when I asked her to come with me.” He turned to the bookshelf, dragging out a large book. “Two months after I came here, she phoned to tell me she was pregnant. But by that time, my dear brother had moved in and taken my woman.”

  “You left. I wasn’t your woman anymore.”

  “I loved you. I still love you,” he gritted out before scrubbing his hands over his face and emptying his lungs in a rush. He turned to Grey. “Nelle doesn’t know who your father is.”

  Grey’s neck cracked as his eyes snapped down to watch his mother softly crying, her head bowed.

  “I was forbidden to set foot on the family property; first by my father and then by my brother. I’ve been forced to watch you grow from afar only. Apart from the few times I managed to visit town, these photos were all I had of you.” He opened the large book, revealing an old photo album. “Until you decided to follow in my footsteps.”

  “You might be my father?”

  “Yes.”

  His mother’s watery gaze fixed on his. “The man who raised you is your father. It takes more than biology to be a parent.”

  “You never gave me a chance,” Matteo objected.

  “You had no room in your plans for a wife or a family. We wouldn’t be sitting here if I hadn’t let you go. I would’ve hated every second of this life. I’m sorry, Teo. I still choose Lucca.”

  “Lucca. Bastardo. How does he like the fact that his sons have done the same thing that we did? How is he handling watching his son grow into a man from afar? And what about the fact that it’s me who’s nurturing that growth, huh? How does he like it?”

  “Matteo, don’t be cruel.”

  “Just returning the favor, tesoro.”

  Grey pelted daggers across the desk, pissed that a man who was supposed to love his mother would dare disrespect her like that. His inner beast awoke in answer to Matteo’s outburst, matching his uncle’s anger and resentment with his own, bringing it to the surface. What she’d done was wrong. Matteo had a right to know if he was a father or not, but that didn’t excuse his contempt.

  “Watch how you speak to my mother. Do you actually care about being a part of my life, or are you just on some sick revenge kick?”

  Matteo’s body seemed to deflate. He dropped down on the chair. />
  Setting his mother in his sights, he tried to swipe the ire from his face, replacing it with confusion. “And, what are you talking about? Antonio and I haven’t done the same thing. Lory and I were never together like that.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “But she loves you.”

  He shook his head, pursing his lips, and joined her on the bench. “No. We talked. What she felt for me was infatuation, not love. She loves Antonio. Lory was scared about what he would think of the baby, but he’s happy about it. I didn’t know he’d always loved her. You were wrong to push us together. But don’t worry, Papà still gets his merger with the Carters.” He couldn’t stop a bit of resentment from creeping into the conversation.

  His mama’s head reared back as her eyes popped. “Is that what you thought our motivations were? A merger?”

  Matteo grunted from his bunker. “I wouldn’t put it past my brother.”

  “Hush, Matteo. You’re as ruthless in business as he is. That’s one of the long list of things you both have in common.” Resting a hand on Grey’s knee, she raised her tired eyes. “That’s not why we wanted to see you together, Grey. It was always Lorelei’s wish to be with you. She fell in love with you when she was just a little girl. You always protected her like she was yours. I didn’t know there was nothing beyond friendship in your heart.”

  “She’s moved on. We’ve both moved on.”

  It would seem his mama had moved on, but Matteo hadn’t. Poor bastard. Grey’s mind whirred, seeing things from Matteo’s perspective. He wondered if Matteo would’ve left if he had known about the baby. Did he leave, not because he was chasing a future, but because he was escaping a past? If Grey had loved Lory, and she’d chosen to be with his brother, there’d be no tolerating seeing them every day. Hell, no. He understood why Matteo was hurting. Why he poured all his love into the restaurant. Why there was no Christmas tree at his home.

  If Matteo was his father, they had a lot of catching up to do.

  Grey rubbed a thumb across his chin, settling his gaze on his mother. “How do we go about getting a DNA test? I need to know.”

  Matteo spoke up. “I’ll organize it. I’d like to finally know too.”