by J. M. Adele
“Good.” He nodded at his uncle …? Father? Grey’s head imploded as the reality of the situation sank in.
Nine months ago, he would’ve secretly been glad to discover there was a chance he was Matteo’s son. Now, knowing how stubborn and selfish Matteo could be, he didn’t want to model himself on that kind of example. He’d learned his lesson from Lory and Antonio. Being so involved in your own ambition and drama blinded you to other people’s needs and wishes. Selfishness had the potential to harm. Grey wanted to do better than that.
Chi troppo vuole nulla stringe.
He who wants too much does not get anything.
“I’ve gotta go. Sorry about dinner, mama, but I’ve lost my appetite. I’m sure Matteo will be happy to take you home. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Stay
Chelsea bolted down the stairs at the sound of insistent pounding on the front door. It was two hours before Grey was supposed to pick her up and she was doing some last minute studying before getting ready to meet his mama. Or was she delaying? She reckoned if she was late, she wouldn’t have to spend as much time with the woman, and maybe she’d survive the meet and greet without tasting her foot.
The thumping intensified, shaking the door on its frame.
“Calm your damn fist or you’ll be paying for a new door,” she yelled as she stomped through the living room.
“Open the damn door and I won’t bust it down.”
She twisted the lock and yanked it open. “Gre—”
His mouth swallowed the rest of her words as it took her with a desperation born from need. His hands grabbed at her shoulders like he was a drowning man and she was the life boat. She stood there and took the storm that raged out of him, waiting for the calm to follow as his fight drained.
He loosened his grip, trailing his hands down her back as he rested his forehead on hers.
“Sorry. I missed you. I needed you.”
“Glad I could help.”
“Can we get out of here? I know it’s early.”
She balked, looking down at her loose T-shirt and shorts. “I am not dressed to meet your mama.”
He flattened his lips, shaking his head. “There’s been a change of plans. How does takeout at my place sound? Just the two of us.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I’ll explain later.”
“Yeah, that sounds perfect. I’ll grab my pocketbook.”
He tightened his grip as she started to move away. “You won’t need it.”
“I don’t go anywhere without it. I’ll just be a second.”
She dashed up the stairs, wary of leaving him fidgeting by the door for too long. She’d never seen him this worked up. Something major had obviously gone down, and she was the one he’d turned to. Lightning bugs were doing all sorts of stunts in her belly at that thought. She had to help him. Whatever he needed, he thought she was the one who could give it to him. Chelsea hoped he was right.
When she returned, she found him staring through the front window, rocking on his heels.
“All set.”
He clasped her hand in his as she followed his hurried steps to the truck. Grey sat in stony silence on the drive to his place, while circling his thumb over the back of her wrist. He was a lion waiting to pounce on his prey, the thrum of pent up energy pulsing in the small space. She didn’t dare ask him what was eating him, or what caused the play of emotions hidden deep behind his steel eyes. He would tell her in his own time. His thumb and his silence spoke volumes. He just needed her company as he sorted through the turmoil churning inside.
The truck did a sudden jerk to the right as he yanked on the wheel. Chelsea’s hand flew to the side, bracing her arms against the door. Pulling into a random, dark, underground carpark, he switched off the engine and threw off his seatbelt, turning his molten, hooded gaze on her.
“Get in the backseat.”
Her throat cramped and her pussy clenched in excited anticipation. That commanding voice could order her to do anything and she’d obey.
“Pardon?” She mouthed the protest, barely a noise passing her lips.
“Now.” He didn’t raise his voice, but his tone brooked no further argument.
Who was she kidding? She didn’t want to argue, anyways. She wanted to throw off her panties and mount him.
He unclipped her belt, impatient, before she climbed through the gap. His hand landed a stinging slap on her ass while it was trapped between the seats, drawing out a squeal and sending a bolt of lust through her system. Getting out of the car, he climbed in the back, finally unleashing the wild animal as he pounced on her. Devouring her mouth with his hungry kiss, he tugged up her tee and pulled down the cups of her bra, licking his way around her nipples before drawing them in to fill his mouth. His hands worked her shorts and panties down her legs, while she rubbed his hard shaft through his pants.
“Take it out.”
“You mean Dick?”
“My cock. I’m not playin’ around, sweetheart.”
She snapped her mouth shut, undoing his jeans and reaching in to set him free. He was hot and pulsing in her hand. He lined himself up and drove in deep, both of them arching and gasping as they joined together. Grey started a punishing rhythm, squeezing and pinching her breasts as he watched his cock pound into her. She grasped at the seat, holding on as Grey consumed her.
His eyes were locked onto hers, laying bare his soul. Pain, anger, his battle with his demons. He needed her to take it all from him. Chelsea moved against him, letting him know that she could take it. That she’d be there the whole way. She gripped onto his forearms, fearless and matching his strength. Undulating hips, fingers digging deep, the sensations grew in ferocity, refusing to be tamed. Grey released a grunt, his movements turned jerky before he slammed his hips forward one last time.
Chelsea’s view captured his heaving chest and shoulders hidden behind his T-shirt. She crept her fingers up his abs, inching the shirt higher until she could place a kiss over his racing heart. Grey dropped his eyes to watch, his throat bobbing as she rested her head back on the seat, sending as much love through her smile as she could gather from her spiraling emotions.
He sucked his thumb to moisten it before pressing down on her swollen folds, his shaft still seated to the hilt. Slicking through the wetness, he circled and dipped his thumb until she writhed underneath him, on the verge of falling apart. With a pump of his hips and added pressure on her clit, she broke apart, losing herself somewhere in bliss. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized he was taking care of her, careful not to be selfish with the pleasure.
Hooking her legs behind his back, he picked her up, and sat on the seat with her straddling him. His hands guided her head to rest on his shoulder, as his arms folded around her, molding her body close. All she could hear were their harsh breaths and the distant sounds of traffic.
“Sorry.” The word rattled up through his chest.
“Don’t be.” She kissed his neck.
A long, slow breath cascaded over her hair before he pulled back and kissed her lips.
“Thank you.”
His gaze feathered over her features with such reverence her toes curled. She ran her fingers through his hair and over the scruff of his short beard, wanting to feel him, melt into him, comfort him.
“Anything you need, honey.”
Strong arms drew her back in, as his mouth sought hers in a passionate kiss seeking entry to her heart. “You. I just need you. Let’s go.”
They fixed up their clothes and climbed back in the front before taking off again. Picking up some Mexican takeout on their way, they spread it on the table when they arrived. Grey sat, eyes glazed over, picking at his nachos.
Chelsea called on what little patience she had while letting her brain think up all sorts of tragic scenarios. Surely if anyone had died he’d have said so, straight out. Shit, did he lose his job? Had a customer been poisoned? Had he been notified that he needed to vacate his apartment?
What the heck was wrong? She wanted to scream, but kept her lips sealed, reaching over to hold his hand instead.
His eyes re-focused as he came out of his trance. “My mom used to date Matteo. It’s possible that he’s my father. She doesn’t know who my father is. How screwed up is that?”
Her eyes widened as the information hit. Wow. Go Mom. That was pretty intense, but it wasn’t shattering. At least he’d had some sort of relationship with both of the men who were the possible candidates. “It’s a shock, but it’s not all that bad, is it? He’s a good guy.”
He pulled his hand out from under hers as his brows slammed down, turbulence churning behind his stare. “They’ve kept us apart almost my entire life. I love my dad, but he tried to make me into something I wasn’t. We’ve fought over it for years. How different would my life have been if I’d been allowed to have a relationship with Matteo? I would’ve felt accepted. He would’ve let me follow my passion years ago, instead of the goddamn struggle I had to go through. My father kicked me out. He told me not to come back.”
Oh. She bit her lip as her heart tore a little for him. Being told you were unacceptable—having your own father kick you out of his life—that was a story etched into her skin. You couldn’t scrub something like that off. It wasn’t a stain. It was a scar. Evidence that someone who should have loved you made you bleed instead. Turning your thickened skin into armor.
“I didn’t know. That’s awful. I’m sorry you had to endure that. But, you’re here now. You made it to where you wanted to be without your father’s blessing. He’s made you stronger. Someone willing to fight for what he wants instead of having it handed to him. Doesn’t that count for somethin’?”
His eyes made a slow study of her face, the stormy gray settling as silver flecks shone with clarity. “You’re right.” Pulling her wrist up to his lips, he placed a kiss on her pulse, making it jump. “You get me.” One corner of his mouth quirked, and he smirked down at the table, shaking his head. Flicking his eyes back to hers, they trapped her in their uncharacteristic vulnerability as he breathed the plea, “Stay.”
Yes. Jesus, it was on the tip of her tongue. Looking at him now, and after what they’d just done, she didn’t want to walk away from him. Ever. But if she stayed, she’d be laying her heart at his feet, unguarded. And that would be breaking the promise she had made to herself.
Chelsea groaned. “Lord. You make it so hard. You weren’t in my plans. I thought I had everything worked out, and now … I don’t know what to do with you.”
“You know what to do with me. We just demonstrated that in the back of my truck, and again, here at this table. You know me. You know us. You just don’t want to give up the last of your defenses. I get it. But, sweetheart, we have a fire between us that can’t be put out. When I try and think of a life without you, I can’t imagine it.” He tapped a fist over his sternum. “You’re in too deep now. I fucking love you, Chelsea.”
Her jaw fell slack as euphoria flooded her system, scrambling her brain and weakening her muscles. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she’d have fallen to the floor. He couldn’t have made a more perfect declaration. It was raw and real, and it shot straight to her soul, stitching together the cracks that her father had made.
Picking up her jaw, she lined up the appropriate reply on her tongue like tiles on a Scrabble board. “I fucking love you too.”
“Then why are you so fucking far away? Get over here.”
She shot to her feet so fast the chair clattered to the floor, but she barely took notice, her attention all on Grey. He picked her up by the thighs, hooking her knees at his sides as they tangled tongues. The Mexican spices lingered, making his flavor even more heady. She heard his zipper, and felt the shock of cool air that hit her ass as he pulled her shorts and panties to the side, and lowered her onto his eager cock.
“Ah, God. I love your tight pussy. I know you deserve better, but I need to be inside you.”
Her muscles tightened around him.
“Totally fine by me.”
Gasping as she pumped up and down, she took her pleasure as much as she gave it to him.
The room tilted as he moved them to the bed, laying her down. His palms hooked around the back of her knees, and he folded her legs up so he could slam into her with long, deliberate strokes. Gripping her calves, she cried out, chasing oxygen with shallow drags into her lungs. Her head slipped off the edge of the bed, his driving force pushing her along the sheets. He didn’t stop. Shoulders following gravity, she reached over her head to brace her hands on the floor before they both ended up in a heap. Lifting her ankles to lock onto his shoulders, she met his force with a rock of her hips, and he gripped her ass to pull her in tight.
She didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. The drag of his hard flesh through her slick inner walls unbearably arousing. With a long, keening cry, she let go. Pulsing waves of ecstasy burst from her center, and she lost her purchase on the floor as she let her elbows go lax. His hands clamped onto her hips, keeping her tethered to him as his cock pulsed his seed inside her.
“Fuck, yes,” Grey growled, following the curse with a gritty groan.
Blood rushed to her head, pounding in her ears, and the room shifted again as he pulled her back to horizontal.
Her body settled, and her thoughts cleared after several minutes.
That’s about when she realized they hadn’t used a condom. Not in the truck ... and not now.
Fuck.
Not Again
The lights of Fenway Park turned night into day as the Sox hosted their arch enemy in pin stripes. Thousands of simultaneous conversations around the stadium beat like boxing gloves against Chelsea’s ears. She sat stewing over the fact that it was two thirds of the way through April, and her period should’ve been and gone by now.
She flinched at the crack of the bat and the roar of the crowd when The Red Sox got another one past the home plate. A Yankees fan sitting two rows down yelled a foul remark, and Ryan returned it with a “Yankees suck!” at the top of his lungs.
Why the fuck had she agreed to this, anyways? She knew nothing about baseball. Nada. But Dakota knew how to turn her big, brown, pleading eyes into a weapon, that’s why Chelsea found herself here. On a double date with Ryan, for frick’s sake. Her friend had reminded her they hadn’t been on a night out together since Halloween, and she just about withered into a puddle of remorse. What a shitty, neglectful friend she’d been. She was spinning too many plates and they were all in danger of crashing down. It wasn’t ideal, putting Grey with Ryan and Dee in the same place. But she was a have-your-cake-and-stuff-it-in-your-face kind of a gal. Two birds—one stone …
Dee managed to wedge herself between Ryan and Grey, with Chelsea on Grey’s other side in the aisle seat. Slouching in his chair beside Dee, Ryan kept his eyes glued to the play on the diamond rather than trawling over Dee’s legs, exposed in tiny shorts. Apparently, she’d taken to borrowing Chelsea’s clothes without asking, because she was wearing the halter top Hannah had borrowed the night Chelsea moved in.
Grey pulled his elbow in tight so he didn’t encroach on Dee’s space, his other hand resting on Chelsea’s thigh as it agitated like a washing machine. She stuck her thumb nail between her teeth and proceeded to do a manicure by mastication. Shit. She hadn’t chewed her nails since freshman year. Funny thing about it was, she was doing it for the same reason. Tearing her hand away, she gripped her knee, ordering up a dose of calm the fuck down.
“What’s up with you tonight?” Dakota leaned over Grey to speak to Chelsea,
His shoulder pushed her sideways as he attempted a getaway, and she twisted, twining her arms around his neck to pull his body back into hers.
I think I’m fucking pregnant, that’s what.
“It’s gonna be real hard to catch up if we have to lean over Grey to talk.” Chelsea patted Grey’s chest. “How about we switch seats, honey?”
Dee frowned. “I thought you liked the aisle seat?”
“Great idea.” He pushed to his feet, giving Chelsea a view of his ass in jeans as he slid past her to the stairs.
That ass was what got her in trouble in the first place. Shifting over, she shamelessly ogled the view again before he took his new seat. She may be in a shitload of trouble, but she wasn’t dead.
“You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”
“The bottom of the fifth. Isn’t it? Who’s hungry? Do y’all want some food?” Chelsea took out her wallet, fiddling with the zipper.
“I’d love a hotdog.” Ryan scooted back in his seat, perking up at the mention of sustenance.
“It’s the top of the third. You haven’t even noticed who’s batting. What’s going on?”
Short answer? She’d been sucked into a time warp, back to when she was fourteen and too damn stupid for her own good. Beth’s face drifted into her head and she swatted it away. Things were different this time. She hadn’t put anyone in danger. She was in love with a good man. Everything would turn out okay. Chelsea kept telling herself that so she didn’t fall apart.
Grey’s hand warmed her thigh and she clung to his anchor, replaying the scene at his apartment a couple of weeks before. They loved each other. She hoped it was enough to stop a repeat of the hell she went through as a rebellious teenager.
“Honey, all I know about baseball is that all the players want to get a homerun, just like the rest of us. What do you want to eat? I’m paying.”
Dee frowned, unhappy with the brush off, but didn’t push it further. “I’ll have a hotdog. Mustard and ketchup, no onions, no cheese.”
“I’ll have mine with the lot. Do you want me to come with you?” Aw, Ryan. He looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes, half out of his seat already. He just wouldn’t give up.
“I got her.” Grey led the way up the stairs.
Chelsea sent Ryan an apologetic smile before she hustled behind. Grey pulled her aside before they got caught up in the people milling about in search of food and drink.
“Why are we here, Chelsea?”
“Because I felt bad that I’ve hardly spent any time with them lately. And because it’s my last chance to come to Fenway Park.”