“Who is she?” Sophia demanded.
“Sophia!” he exclaimed, looking all guilty. “Did you follow me?”
“Who is she, huh?” She hitched a thumb toward the woman who may or may not be Vince’s wife. “Is this who you’re sneaking out the door to meet?”
The woman grinned. “I’m his sister-in-law, Jasmine, and I’m married. Aren’t you a ball of fire?”
Her cheeks flamed.
“Go home, Soph,” Vince said. “I’ll see you next weekend.”
Like she was just his good-time girl when he felt like hooking up, but the rest of his life, no, thank you. Go home. And wasn’t that always the way for her? Once she wasn’t needed, get lost.
She did an about-face and hurried away as tears unexpectedly snuck up on her.
“Yo, Soph!” that moron called.
She kept going. He caught up with her and grabbed her by the waist, lifting her right off the ground. “Jasmine said I should talk to you.”
She felt like kicking him in the shin. But she really didn’t want to make a scene in the church parking lot. She sighed, and he set her down and turned her to face him.
“You don’t have to go home,” he said. “Jasmine said that was harsh.”
“Oh, thanks, Vince. Good to know.”
“I just didn’t want you to see me here.”
“Why? It’s church! What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. It’s just something I do privately.”
“It’s not private at all. You’re sitting there with Jasmine.”
“She’s the godmother. We have to be active members of the church if we want to be godparents. Gabe and Zoe go to the later mass.”
“Why can’t I go? I’m Catholic. You just want me in your bed—” His hand clapped over her mouth.
He looked side to side. “Would you keep it down? I know people around here, and Father Munson is still skulking around, looking for sinners.”
She blinked rapidly.
“Aw, don’t cry, Soph.” He dropped his hand. “I said I’d see you next weekend.”
“Bye, Vince,” she choked out.
“I’ll call you.”
She went back to her car and drove home. What had she expected? She knew he was clueless when it came to women. She just hadn’t anticipated how much it would hurt.
~ ~ ~
Vince didn’t call Sophia. He knew he wouldn’t get very far that way. Instead he showed up at Sophia’s door the following Friday night with a bouquet of red roses.
She pursed her lips. “You think flowers make up for the way you just toy—”
He grabbed her and kissed her. She stiffened in his arms for a moment, but then her mouth yielded. He knew how to please her. He kissed her, rough and demanding, until she sank against him.
“Where’s your dad?” he asked.
“He’s at my uncle’s place.”
“Good.” Then he tossed her over his shoulder, one hand firmly on her ass, and carried her upstairs. She was hot to the touch and quiet.
Hot was good. A quiet woman, as she’d pointed out last weekend when they’d had their first fight, wasn’t always good.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.
“I’m thinking you’re a moron.”
He rubbed her butt. “Which room?”
“Second one on the right.”
He grinned. He might be a moron, but this moron was having his way tonight with a beautiful soon-to-be-naked woman. He stepped into her bedroom and swung her back down off his shoulder, cradled in his arms. “Hello, gorgeous.”
She gave him a small smile. He swung her back and forth over the queen-size bed, she shrieked, and on the third swing he let her fly. She bounced on the mattress with a laugh. She loved when he roughhoused with her, which was good, because he loved getting physical. He was still careful with her, held back a bit so he wouldn’t hurt her or crush her, but she was a helluva lot of fun. Always laughing or moaning, depending what he did.
Tonight he would make her his in a complete and total surrender. Then she would stop worrying about what he did without her. Because his early morning weekend activities didn’t concern her.
And there was no way he was letting her see him in costume.
Chapter Seventeen
Sophia landed on the bed with a bounce. Vince had tossed her there like a sack of potatoes. Not exactly the romantic ending to that whole carrying-upstairs thing he’d done, which would've been a tad more romantic if she wasn’t over his shoulder, but still fun. She propped up on her elbows, waiting for him to join her. Instead he grabbed her shoes and tossed them. Then he grabbed her leggings and panties by the waist and yanked them down in one swoop. He’d just walked in the door and already she was half naked. “Uh, Vince.”
He pulled her up, grabbed her shirt, and yanked it over her head, tossing it to the side. “What?” he asked as he undid the bra and tossed that too.
“Did it occur to you I might like a slow seduction?” She was sitting there completely naked while he was still dressed.
He looked her up and down. “No.”
Then he was on her, kissing her, his hands roaming all over her, immediately going to her hot spots, all of her erogenous zones, until she felt warm and languid and gave in. She lay back and let him do whatever he wanted. He flipped her over, shifted her hair to the side and kissed the back of her neck. He never rolled her, always flipped her back and forth. Last weekend the sudden change in position had startled her. Now she just accepted it.
His voice rumbled in her ear. “You like when I roughhouse with you, don’t you?”
“You mean manhandle me?”
He nipped the side of her neck, and she hissed out a breath. His tongue soothed the spot. “Manhandle,” he echoed. “Yeah. You like being handled.”
“I don’t,” she breathed, not wanting to give him any advantage.
He shed his clothes quickly. “You’re a liar.” And then he proved his point, turning her this way and that as easily as a doll, playing with her body, teasing, touching, handling her. By the time he had her straddling him while he kissed and stroked her with his rough hands, she was restless, moving her hips against him, needing him inside her. But he wasn’t done handling her. He flipped her to her back, her side, her belly, his hands always rough and firm, making her forget herself, making her surrender.
“You’re mine, Sophia,” he whispered as he sat up, pulling her back with him, his arm around her waist as he leaned back against the headboard. He hauled her up into his lap. “Mine to do with as I please.” Her back was against his chest, his thick erection pressing against her bottom, and she was already desperate for release. He nuzzled her neck, his fingers rolling and tugging on her nipples.
“Vince,” she moaned.
He bit down on the side of her neck, holding her in place while his hand trailed down her stomach and kept going. “You’re so wet for me.”
She trembled as his rough callused fingers separated her folds, stroking up and down. Vince’s effect on her was overwhelmingly strong. She’d never experienced anything like what he did to her. Her orgasms were shattering. And he didn’t stop with just one. He kept going until she had absolutely nothing left.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Please is good,” he said. His devious fingers were slipping in and out of her and then slid up to do one big pinch. She cried out, and he loosened his hold, stroking the oversensitive spot softly. “How about thank you?”
His hands moved up to pinch her nipples, and she arched her hips back, needing to feel him inside her. He slid her hand down, making her feel her own wetness. “Here, touch yourself while I get the condom.”
She pulled her hand away. He pushed it back and made her hand move with his hand on top. His fingers directed hers, circling, flicking, stroking. She moaned and closed her eyes.
He released her hand. “Keep going.”
She felt strange but did as he asked, enjoying her own touch more tha
n she thought. Vince lifted her off his lap and set her in the center of the bed.
“You make me so hot when you do that,” he said. She heard the rustle of the condom. “Now me.”
Her eyes stayed closed, knowing Vince would arrange her into whatever position he liked. She felt his heat, his large body pressing next to her, and then he yanked her down so she was flat on her back. He pushed her hand away and spread her legs. She waited for his first hard thrust and was surprised when instead his mouth dropped down over her throbbing sex. She tried to scramble up and away from that mouth, that unforgiving mouth that pushed her way beyond release, but he just dragged her back down and his lips and teeth and tongue told her she hadn’t done the right thing with that move because now he was showing her no mercy, no break, just an unrelenting suckling and licking and occasional tight tug between the teeth. She started shaking and begged him to come inside her.
“Nuh-uh,” he said with another slow lick. “When you shake, that’s you fighting it. I want you giving in immediately. Total surrender.”
She tensed, everything inside her clenching as he lapped at her. She broke helplessly, rocking against his mouth that had started suckling her again. He kept going, driving her out of her mind, making her pant like an animal. She was drenched in sweat, in a pleasure free fall that threatened to take her under, all boundaries gone, at the absolute mercy of this man who just would not stop. The last thread of her control broke, and she followed him over peak after peak with no tensing against him, no fight at all, lost in pleasure. When he finally released her, a long feverish time later, she went limp, completely boneless and wrung out.
“Again,” he said just as he thrust inside. She came immediately. She clung to him, expecting a long tumbling ride, but he drove hard and fast and exploded inside her with a hoarse groan, collapsing on top of her.
A moment later he rolled off her. He hauled her up against his side, and she needed no prompting to rest her head on his chest and wrap her arm and leg around him. His heart was pounding, which told her that while he might’ve worked to shake her up, he was also affected. His breathing deepened into sleep, and she felt herself drifting off. She really hoped she didn’t wake to an empty bed again. Not after that. She felt shattered, raw and vulnerable, and she couldn’t take the heartache.
~ ~ ~
Sophia woke when she felt Vince get out of bed. She opened one eye. Seven a.m. on a Saturday. “Vince?”
He froze. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“What’s the rush?”
“I gotta get back home. Get ready. Got a few things to do.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’ll call you. I’ll see you tonight if you’re free.”
“So am I just good to have around for nights? Just when you want to hook up?”
“Geez, Soph. It’s too early to fight. Sometimes I gotta do stuff.”
“Like what?”
He was silent. She let out a sigh. Clearly Vince didn’t want her in his life. He wasn’t serious about her. She should’ve moved back to her apartment in Brooklyn by now, but she’d stuck around because of Vince. It was time to move on. This wasn’t her, just in it for the sex. She needed more than that.
He turned to go. “I’ll call ya,” he said over his shoulder.
Her heart ached for the man who took her out of herself, shook her up, and then left her in a cold rush.
“I’m busy tonight,” she said.
He turned. “Busy with what?”
“I have to pack. I’m moving next weekend.”
His face flushed with anger. She grabbed her robe and hurried into the bathroom.
Vince appeared in the doorway. “Whadda ya mean you’re moving?” he boomed.
“It’s time for me to go back to my real life,” she said calmly. “My dad doesn’t need me at the house anymore. You’ve got the library project running smoothly.” She shrugged. “You can go now. I’m going to get ready.”
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll shower here.” He turned on the water and started stripping down. She took in his massive shoulders, the raw strength and power in him, and felt herself softening, going damp and needy again.
She turned away, brushing out her hair and wrapping it up in a hair band in a messy bun. His arms slipped around her from behind. “I don’t want to fight.” His voice, low and husky, made her insides do a delicious flip. He untied the robe and slipped it from her shoulders. Then he kissed down the side of her neck as one strong arm banded around her waist, pressing her firmly against him. “C’mon, get in the shower.”
She caved. “Get a condom.”
“I just want to be with you. I’ll wash you.”
Her knees went weak. Just when she thought she’d had him all figured out, he went and said something like that. Was there really a teddy bear hiding in that lumberjack body?
Before she had too much time to ponder that, he pulled her into the glass stall and proceeded to wash her in a gruff efficient way. It was probably the way he washed himself—arms, armpits, chest, stomach, back, groin, legs. He was unconcerned with her sudden intake of breath over sensitive spots. He pushed her under the spray to rinse, turned her the other way, and then proceeded to wash himself in the same way. He rinsed, turned off the water, and stepped out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. Her towel.
“Towel, please,” she said. “In that closet.”
He took one out, and she reached for it. He held it just out of reach.
“Gimme that!”
He pulled her out and started drying her off in his efficient way. “Where are you moving?”
She jerked as the towel flicked over her overly sensitized nipples on the way to rub down her stomach and hips. “Back to my apartment in Brooklyn.”
He brought the towel between her legs, and her knees buckled. He pulled it up, making her ride it like a hammock, and an insistent throbbing returned. “Vince.” She knew better than to reason with him. “Please.”
He held that towel tight, making her squirm, making her want. “You didn’t think to mention to me that you’re moving more than an hour away? You must’ve been planning this for a while.”
She couldn’t help it. She moaned. He dropped the towel, and she stood there naked and throbbing, feeling desperate for him to stay and give her what her body now craved. She wrapped her arms around his waist. His erection pressed into her belly. “It’s my home,” she said.
“Your home is with me.” Then he lifted her, cradled in his arms, walked back to the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. She merely opened her arms and legs to him, offering herself freely. He needed no more invitation than that. He was on her in a flash, and he took and took and took until it seemed she had always been his.
And then he left again without telling her where he was going or what he was doing. She buried her face in the pillow and screamed. But that reminded her too much of Vince and what he’d done to her, so she scrambled back out of bed and headed downstairs for some coffee. The dozen red roses were sitting on the coffee table.
She sighed. What was she supposed to do with a man like Vince?
Chapter Eighteen
“Omigod, no.” The words were a hushed whisper as Sophia stood staring in horror that night at the sight before her—the Episcopal church annex was on fire. Most of the Clover Park Library collection, including first editions and historic town documents, had been stored there. The volunteer firefighters were battling down the blaze, dousing the building with water, and they were winning. Sophia clapped a hand over her mouth as tears threatened. Even if they got the fire out, the smoke and the water would finish the damage. She couldn’t believe this. She’d gotten a call from one of the town councilmen. She’d raced to the scene, hoping there might be something salvageable. There wouldn’t be.
The worst part was, she didn’t know where her dad was. He wasn’t at her uncle’s apartment. He wasn’t home. He wasn’t answering his cell. The location of the fi
re just on the church annex smacked of sabotage. Someone who didn’t want the library to be a success. She knew her dad wasn’t happy about her insistence on moving forward with Marino Construction. Would he really have betrayed her like this? She didn’t want to think him capable of it, but he hadn’t been himself ever since her mom left. She hated that she even thought it.
She wanted to call Vince and tell him about this horrible turn of events, but she felt weird. Sure, they’d had two weekends of crazy-good sex, but they’d left things unsettled.
The last of the flames died down, and she pulled out her cell. She was being ridiculous. This was Vince’s project too. Of course he should know. Maybe it was accidental. She was being paranoid just because she felt such a personal connection to what they’d lost. Her gut churned. Hundred-year-old documents. Some even older. She should’ve known better. She should’ve put them in a fireproof safe. Clover Park’s history was in her hands and now it was gone.
Vince answered right away. “Hey, Sophia.” That deep, melodic voice reassured her somehow. So strong and steady.
“Hi,” she said.
“Miss me already?”
She kinda did, actually, even though she’d spent nearly twenty-four hours pressed against his solid body. “There was a fire. The church annex—”
“Shit. Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m at the church. The fire is out.”
“Did we lose all those books?”
He said we. He really did see it as their project. Her dad had been all wrong about Vince. He kept warning her that the Marinos would take over, push them out, but Vince hadn’t been like that at all.
“Sophia, talk to me! Forget it. I’ll be right there.”
“No! I’m going home. It’s like a car crash. I can’t seem to look away.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “It’s all my fault.”
“This is not your fault. I’m heading to your place. Hang tight.” He hung up.
She watched for a few more moments, the lights of the fire trucks swirling through the dark, the shouts of the men. Slowly, she turned and headed home.
By the time Vince got there, Sophia had had a chance to calm down. She still felt incredibly guilty for not doing more to preserve those historic documents, but the initial shock had worn off. She opened the door, and Vince swooped in, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground in his enthusiasm.
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