by Seth Eden
“What?” I asked, stymied.
“You’re in charge. Wherever you lead, I’ll follow. Just know that I’m only about one thrust or touch or kiss away from a nuclear fucking explosion.” I giggled. “Christ! Or that. That could do it, too.”
Happy to put him out of his misery, I moved my hips experimentally. Marco threw his head back, chiseled jaw in the air, visibly grinding his teeth, but I didn’t want him to hold back anymore. I remembered the bucking motion that had come so naturally to me when he’d touched me in his office and attempted to replicate it.
His hands went to my hips as if he meant to hold on for dear life, and I increased my pace. Things were just starting to feel especially enjoyable when he groaned louder than before. I latched my mouth onto his neck, listening to every sound he made as I finally brought him the same kind of pleasure he’d already brought me.
Twice.
Once he quieted, I thought it would be over, but he started moving again, still hard inside me. I swiveled my hips against his, feeling that familiar escalation of anticipation I’d only ever experienced with Marco. Much more laidback now, his hands left my hips to rub up and down my back, across my breasts, and along my stomach.
Tangling one hand in my hair while the other drifted down between my legs, he plundered my mouth with this tongue at the same time that his fingers worked their magic. I flew over the edge again, the intensity stronger than ever, and Marco caught me on the way down, guiding me safety and reverently back to earth.
18
Marco
I never planned to get out of this bed. Not ever. There couldn’t be anywhere in the solar system that felt better than this, so what would be the point?
Kelly lay up against me, her caramel head on my shoulder, sound asleep. Every cell in my being had become lost in a bliss-filled stupor, and I smiled to myself, relatively certain that I’d never been quite this content before.
I relived some of my favorite memories from our time here in this tucked away cottage suite. Customarily, reliving a passion-filled night would entail lots of kink and a random woman I hardly knew.
Now, though, while I certainly remembered the blatantly sexual portions, I also remembered the nonsexual ones. Like the way Kelly had helped settle me down after that waking fucking nightmare I’d had. Or the way she’d treated my ugly-ass scars, as if they didn’t repulse her in the least. As if they hadn’t bothered her at all.
She’d even kissed them, every inch of them, and the thought of that made my nose and eyes sting.
Christ, get a grip.
I didn’t do this sort of thing. I didn’t get emotional.
Gabriel, on occasion. Luca, when things got horrendously bad too close to home. Sandro, very rarely. But me? Not since my father had ever so lovingly called me a pussy for daring to be upset over losing the first girl I’d ever cared about.
I’d transformed myself into a hardened piece of flint after that. It made dealing with the harsh realities of life easier to withstand. I simply didn’t allow myself to go there. Not even when the fire had been licking at my skin. Not even when the medical staff had had to debride—remove without anesthetic—the dead and damaged parts of my burn so it could heal.
I might’ve screamed a few times, but actually get teary-eyed enough to weep? No. Yet the more I thought about the depths of compassion Kelly had shown me, not pity—I couldn’t tolerate that—but compassion, the more the feeling intensified.
What the hell was wrong with me?
She’d always been kind and nurturing, from that first day on. But today? I’d been so sure she’d find my scars repugnant. That she’d be disgusted by them. That she’d take one look and run horrified from the room. I’d anticipated that because I’d seen other people’s reactions.
Not the medical personnel, they appeared to be used to such injuries, but Rosa had come to visit me in the hospital once. They’d been changing out my bandages when she came in, and the expression on her face had said it all. Even Sandro and Gabriel had gotten these constricted looks sometimes, like they wanted to cringe.
So Kelly being so resolute about the whole thing, not only about seeing the scars but about touching them as if that part of me was no different than the rest…
It was so considerate, so warmhearted.
So caring.
My eyes started to sting again, and I had to rub at them to make it stop.
Shit.
Okay, enough of that.
I glanced down at Kelly. Parts of her were obscured at this angle. I could see the top of her hair, divinely mussed and smelling of flowers. The tip of her dainty nose. Half of one breast. The crook of her arm that laid above the covers. But even though I couldn’t take in all of her at once right now, she remained beautiful. Stunningly so. And innocent, too.
She’d shared that innocence with me, even gave me an irreplaceable piece of it.
Kelly was such a good person. Inside and out. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t seem to quit thinking about her, even when I tried. I wanted to be with her and stay in her presence as much as possible. All the time. Twenty-four seven. Which struck me as weird, frankly. I’d never wanted anyone around all the time before.
Even the women I used to bang, hot as they could be, had gotten tiresome at a certain point. I hadn’t felt anything like what I felt for Kelly since I’d been a teenager with Emily. And even then, the attraction I’d felt for her hadn’t been this strong. This felt like more than attraction anyway. Being around Kelly felt like a requirement. Like a necessity.
And sex with her was just… damn. I’d never experienced anything like it. And I didn’t think it was only due to her being a virgin, either. There was something inherently different about her, about the way I felt when I was around her. I didn’t think I’d ever get enough of her. Not if I spent the rest of my life worshipping at the altar of her body.
I wanted to hear her giggle again like she had when I’d been inside her. I wanted to see her smile. I wanted to continue to tease her and by teased by her. I wanted to stare into those green starburst eyes of hers until nothing else existed. And then, I wanted to go to sleep beside her and wake with her in my arms.
The thought of that, of being with her like that, forever, made my face break into this massive grin. It made me happy. And something occurred to me that I knew was the absolute truth.
I loved her.
She stirred. “Did you say something?” she asked, and I froze. Had I said that out loud?
“No,” I told her, because I hadn’t meant to. But then I changed my mind. “Yes.”
She blinked and sat up, providing me with a bird’s eye view of the best sight ever. She smiled at me, and it was as if my wish to see that smile had made it happen.
“Which is it?” Her eyes sparkled, playfully. “No or yes?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling certain. “I said something. I said that I loved you because I do.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“Yep.”
She reached up with her hands and placed her thumbs side by side to the dent in my chin. Then, fanning out her fingers over each side of my face, she lowered her lips to mine, bestowing on me a soft kiss. “I love you, too.”
And then we proceeded to show one another that we meant what we’d said.
I let Vinnie know that I’d need to rent out the cottage suite indefinitely, and over the next two weeks, Kelly and I met there at every opportunity.
Around the obligations of work and family—it took Kelly at least an hour every morning to take care of her mom—we spent as much time in each other’s arms as we could. When tucked into our private little getaway we ate together, showered together, and watched innocuous shit on television or YouTube together.
It was like our own special paradise.
We slept there every night, even if we weren’t able to get in until the wee hours of the morning and had to leave before dawn. But it was worth it. So worth it. It felt like we’d discovered this magical p
lace where everyone and everything but the two of us had been forced to stay outside of those walls.
Her cop brother didn’t matter. My being a member of the Italian mafia didn’t matter. The fact that she didn’t know that about me didn’t matter.
She acted as though I were this good man, someone upstanding and decent. And I really liked her believing that about me. She didn’t know all the atrocious things I’d done either for my father or on my family’s behalf. She didn’t know that I was a murderer, a drug lord, and a money launderer. And she sure as hell didn’t know that she was assisting in that last enterprise.
That would’ve destroyed what we had between us, and I couldn’t allow that. Now that I had her, I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t. So I’d do whatever I must to keep the illusion of legitimacy around what I did and who I was.
Kelly loved that version of me, so I’d just continue to be that for her. In fact, I started to wish that guy was who I actually was. Some benign restaurant owner, successful but completely honorable in all my transactions. An upright member of society. Benevolent, even.
Shortly after Antonio had been born, Luca had done this strange thing of donating a bunch of Varasso funds to good works around the city. At first, I’d thought he was losing his mind, but after I saw how many people it helped, I started to understand.
Helping others felt great. And it made a difference in how Luca comported himself. He took pride in giving that money, in giving over what was essentially ill-gotten gains for such a pure purpose. It was money laundering in an entirely novel way, and I grew to appreciate it, too. It made me feel less evil. It made being a member of the Varasso family more palatable.
It made me feel more worthy of Kelly, too, like we were on more equal footing. Even though we weren’t. If she ever discovered the truth, everything would be over between us, so I simply wouldn’t let that happen.
Ever.
I’d heard of some families that worked like that. They kept their business life utterly separate from their home life. They’d have wives and children and all sorts of normalcy in one area of their lives, then they’d go out in the middle of the night to do a hit without their loved ones being any the wiser.
I wondered if something like that would work for me.
But it didn’t think so. Because we all lived at the Varasso mansion together, our business lives and personal lives were hopelessly entwined. It was the way the old man had wanted it, and Luca had kept it that way. But for Luca it worked. While Molly might not be involved in the grislier and more violent aspects of the business, she was still an integral part.
My eldest brother had a wife who knew the truth about everything and accepted that life as her own. Queenie was tough as nails. She’d would do whatever it took to make everything work together while keeping her home and babies safe and secure.
I was glad they’d found that with each other, but such a setup wouldn’t ever apply to me. Kelly would never be capable of accepting such a thing. It wasn’t in her DNA.
Which was why I’d never taken Kelly home. I might be able to get away with a brief visit, but if she spent any significant amount of time there, I had no doubt that the secret of who the Varassos really were would come to light. So I began to be there only when I had to be.
The situation made me yearn to be somebody else, anybody but a Varasso. Being a member of the mob was the only life I knew, but it was keeping me from being free and open with the woman I loved. I hated not being honest with her, but I couldn’t be. My choices were lie and keep her or be truthful and lose her. It made for an exceedingly clear-cut decision.
Living without Kelly Carr in my life was no longer an option.
19
Kelly
I left Marco’s Audi with a gigantic grin on my face. These past two weeks had been the best of my life, and it was all because of him. He’d become everything to me: the man of my dreams, my lover, and my boss. He’d changed my life for the better in every way conceivable. And best of all, he loved me.
Marco Varasso loved me!
I’d never been happier.
Before meeting him, I’d felt lonely sometimes and like I was missing out on something important, though I hadn’t wanted to admit it. My friends had been right about me, I’d been living a half-life.
My existence had been all about struggle and acrimony and toil. I’d enjoyed few gleeful moments and next to no contentment or satisfaction. Then Marco had come into my workplace and altered my perceptions on reality.
He gave me so much on a daily basis, far more than I could ever give him.
Finally, I was more than Brian and Amy Carr’s daughter, more than David’s little sister, more than just a server. I was a manager, a full-fledged adult, and a woman in love. I had things to look forward to now, significant things. I wanted to laugh out loud at the total fulfillment of it.
Even my homelife was better. The extra money I made had enabled me to not only keep the bills paid, it meant my parents were finding fewer and fewer reasons to snipe at each other. I’d been wary about divulging my increase in pay, fearful they might want to be in control of more of my money, but instead they’d surprised me.
My mom and dad had congratulated me about the promotion and thanked me for pitching in to help. They’d even started to be nice to one another on occasion, an event I hadn’t witnessed in… well, ever.
If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I might not have believed it.
And things were so amazing at work, too.
Business stayed steady, and now that Marco and I were in a relationship together, those hours became about sneaking kisses and flirting whenever we could. My days used to be about worrying about money and finding some way to work extra shifts to get more of it. But all that was over now. Time spent both working and at the suite flashed by.
I couldn’t stop smiling even if I tried.
My friends had noticed, of course.
“Look at you waltzing in here rosy with afterglow,” Chloe said in a voice louder than I would’ve liked, wagging her finger at me all sassy-like.
“And now you’re blushing to the roots of your hair,” Laura added with a giggle. “You’re just too much fun to mess with, sweetie pie.”
“Shush,” I admonished them. “What if a customer hears you?”
“Eh, we’re not too busy yet,” Chloe said, not the least bit repentant. “The only ones in here are the Arnolds, and if they knew, they’d just be happy for you.”
The Arnolds were this adorable African American couple who’d been married for about seventy-five thousand years. They had the kind of marriage where he still opened the door for her, and she still gave him a peck on the lips for it every time he did. They were the sweetest people ever and remained outrageously in love even after all their long years together.
I aspired to be just like them.
Marco appeared, then. He’d been held up by a phone call from someone, and his expression seemed a bit put out as he came inside. It reminded me of when he’d first been here and I’d called him Intense Suit Guy. But then, he caught my eye and all that tension disappeared. He smiled at me, his expression full of both warmth and heat, and when he winked at me mischievously before going into his office, I sighed.
My friends sighed with me.
“Damn, wish I could get somebody to stare at me the way that man stares at you,” Laura said, her voice wistful.
“Amen to that,” Chloe agreed, both of them leaning against each other to watch Marco as he vanished from view. “He’s a goner. Head over heels.”
“And so is she,” Laura told Chloe as if I weren’t standing right there next to them.
“That’s a yes on both counts,” I said, needing to share my rapturously good news.
“What?” Chloe’s eyes were enormous. “Did he say it? Those three little words?”
“Uh huh.”
“And you said it back,” Laura concluded.
“Uh huh,” I said again, confirming things
. And then we all three squealed like twelve-year-olds, jumping up and down. The Arnolds glanced over at the commotion we were creating, and I found I didn’t even mind. They were grinning as much as we were anyway.
“Mazel tov, honey,” Chloe told me at the exact same time as Laura said, “Congrats!”
“Think this might be the big O?” Laura went on. My friends and I all used the term “big O” to mean “the One.”
I thought about all the time Marco and I had spent together. About him bringing me soup when he thought I was sick. About how he brought me pleasure twice before seeking any out for himself, one of those times being over there in that very office. About how tender and careful he’d been as he made love to me for the first time.
Then I pictured what a future with him might look like. A wedding with him standing at the end of the aisle. That iconic house with the white picket fence and a cat in the window. A back yard with a puppy running around chasing his own tail. What our kids might look like. What our appearances might be as we sat in a restaurant together like the Arnolds were, old and gray.
“Yeah,” I said, my mind swimming with all those images. “I think he might be.”
The day, like usual when I worked with Marco, flew by. The only problem I had was that it was hard to concentrate on counting bundles of cash when all I could think about was what Marco had done to me the night previous. It wasn’t exactly a horrible problem to have.
That next night after making love again, I set an alarm so I could get up earlier than usual. My mom had a doctor’s appointment I’d promised to take her to, one including another battery of tests for her arthritis. These tests would monitor the progress of her disease and see how her hip replacements were faring.
I hoped that since I’d been able to work on her medical debt a bit, maybe we could set an appointment to get her knee replacements completed, too. With that surgery, her pain would be cut substantially, and she might even be capable of getting up and around more. It’d make a massive improvement in the overall quality of her life. One she so desperately needed.