Disarmed by Love

by Gail Chianese

  Except all it took was one look at the man before her—looking sexy as hell in his shorts and rumpled t-shirt and fresh from bed hair, and her mind went in a totally opposite direction.

  The night was made for love.

  Talking could wait.

  “He’s fast asleep.” Dante sat down next to her on the couch and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  “Thank you for a wonderful weekend. It’s exactly what we all needed.” She brushed a soft kiss across his lips. “Will you stay for a while? You don’t have to rush home, do you?”

  “Chin stopped by my place earlier, hung out with Sinclair for a while and made sure the water and food bowls were filled, so I’ve got an extension on my curfew tonight.” He sat forward and poured them each a glass of wine.

  “What shall we drink to?” she asked.

  “A wonderful mini-vacation, to quiet nights, and sleeping in a real bed that you can stretch out in.”

  She laughed. He was always making her laugh. “I told you to take the queen bed.”

  “And let you sleep in the wolf den? Not very gentlemanly of me. Throwing you to the wolves.”

  “I’m sort of used to those wolves and I’m considerably shorter than you.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Oh yeah?” She set her glass down and swung a leg over Dante’s lap to settle in the middle. “That’s because I may be little but I pack a pretty good punch.”

  “You’re talking my language.” He set his own glass down and ran his fingertips lightly up her abdomen until he cupped her breast and teased her nipples. “Small and explosive, if not handled properly.”

  “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” She wiggled her hips, lining them up perfectly.

  Dante threw his head back and groaned. “I am an expert in these matters.”

  “How are your underwater techniques?” She trailed a nail down his chest and over his nipple.

  “Top of my class.”

  “I’m going to take a shower, wash off the chlorine. Join me.”

  She didn’t ask him, she commanded, nor did she wait to see his reaction. She slid off his lap and walked into the bathroom off her bedroom. She turned the water to just under scalding, stripped and stepped in. The room steamed up quickly. She had her head under the water and didn’t hear the door close or the sound of clothes hitting the floor. She felt Dante’s presence, the weight of his gaze on her naked body, his desire snaking out to touch her without laying a finger on her.

  Electricity zipped through the air and as warm as the water was, it felt cool compared to Dante’s skin touching her. He reached for her shampoo, poured the creamy liquid into his palm and turned her around. He worked it through her hair, massaging her scalp, laying kisses along her shoulders as he lifted the long strands up.

  He tended to her, pampered her, cared for her.

  It was a foreign concept, this letting someone else be in charge. For so long it had just been her, the alpha of her two-person pack. Over the last few weeks Dante had been working his way into that role, not to take over, but to co-rule. He hadn’t made demands of her, ordered her around or usurped her in any way. She wasn’t a threat to his manhood; rather he treated her like an equal.

  He had also worked his way into her heart.

  If she’d had any doubts about how she felt or if he’d disrupt her family, this weekend had proved her wrong. As a matter of fact, the last few days had been near perfect and she didn’t want them to end. She didn’t want him to go home to his apartment and her to an empty, cold bed.

  She wanted to make love with Dante, and fall asleep in his arms, to wake up in the morning and do it all over again tomorrow. And the next day. And the week after, the month, for the rest of her life.

  “Stop thinking. Feel, mi alma.”

  His soapy hands ran down from her shoulders to her hands. He poured more soap into his palms and ran them over her back, circled her waist, across her stomach, and up to her breasts. He took his time, with soft caresses, slowly torturing her. She ground her backside into his firm erection, begging, without uttering a word.

  “Not yet, mi alma. We’ve waited all weekend. Turn around.” Not waiting he spun her around so the water sluiced down her body as he framed his big hands on the side of her face and kissed her.

  His kisses were like melted chocolate over silky ice cream: sweet, decadent, and entirely addicting. He backed up until the cool tile hit her warm skin. His hands slid down to grasp hers and pinned them against the wall as his mouth laid claim to her breast. She gasped as his teeth scraped over her already sensitive nipple.

  She wanted to run her hands down his back, to delve into his hair and guide his mouth south.

  Dante must have sensed her impatience, because he laughed and said, “In time.”

  Waiting was overrated. He said to feel, well, she wanted to feel him. Pressed up against her. Inside her. Making her scream.

  He dropped to his knees and she muttered thank you as he cupped her ass and kissed his way down. He had to let go of her hands, and she slapped the tile to hold herself up as he spread her legs and caressed his thumb over the spot before slipping it inside. The steam from the shower swirled around his body, shrouding him in mystery like a dream hanging on the last vestiges of sleep.

  His mouth replaced his hand, she gasped as the first wave of ecstasy hit her, toes curled as her hips rocked forward. Her heart pounded in her ears; with her breath caught she let go and let the sensation roll over her. She let Dante take control; let him take care of her.

  She cried out as the orgasm hit. His hands grabbed her hips to keep her from sliding down the wall. He kissed his way back up her body, stopping here and there. His body, sleek and delicious, and incredibly sexy pressed against her. He breathed her name, voice strained and filled with passion, sent chills up her spine. His eyes, dark and hungry, met hers.

  “Mine,” he growled and kissed her in way that left no room to argue. He lifted her and in one swift move was inside her. He held them just like that. “Put your legs around me, mi alma.”

  She did as instructed and rested her forehead against his, neither moving, just breathing in sync. It had to be the most erotic feeling in the world. They stopped being Dante and Fiona and became one and while that thought should freak her out, it felt incredibly natural, like finding your missing half.

  Slowly, Dante began to move, building the rhythm and taking his time until neither of them could breathe, and her brain melted, all coherent thoughts disappeared. All she could do was feel: the slide of his hot hard body against her sensitive breasts, his hands gripping her hips, her heart exploding with love.

  She cried out at the same time he called her name, his hot breath fanning across her skin. The orgasm washed over her in waves, and she wrapped her arms around Dante’s neck and held on tight. His shoulders sagged and his head fell forward to rest against her head.

  They stayed like that, melded together for several long minutes. Then Dante lifted her again as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her to bed. They didn’t bother with the bedcovers. The room must have been a hundred degrees or maybe that was just her body.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She laughed. “You have to ask?”

  “You’re just unusually quiet.”

  “Still coming down off the high.” She rolled to her side to look at him. God, he was gorgeous. She wondered if when they were in their eighties, if she’d have tired of looking at him by then. Probably not. “What does that mean, mi alma?”

  He hesitated for a split second. “Just a term of endearment like sweetheart.”

  “It’s pretty.” The long weekend coupled with their lovemaking caught up with her and exhaustion swept over her, but not before she made a mental note to look up the term. “Will you stay the night?”

  “What about D
ylan?”

  “He won’t wake up until at least nine, when we’re at work and Katelyn will be here to watch him.”

  “Then yes.”

  She snuggled up to his side, with her head on his shoulder. As sleep claimed her, she swore she heard him say I love you.

  Chapter 18

  Fiona stared at the documents she’d pulled out of the certified mail envelope, her heart plunging.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He was doing it, suing her for full custody of their son.

  Even more, Sal cited her as an unfit mother and accused her—in writing—of knowingly putting their child in danger.

  Her hands shook, her stomach rolled, and the world tilted on its axis. Her body and mind went numb. It was like being aware that you’re dreaming, but she couldn’t wake up and escape.

  A lawyer. Yes, she needed to call ASAP. Slowly thoughts tumbled through her brain. But who? Hers retired last year. And how would she pay? There was a little money she’d set aside, her retirement and Dylan’s college funds. Not that there was much in either, but maybe enough. Sal had no proof for either accusation. Dylan was a healthy, happy kid and she’d never knowingly put him into a dangerous situation. She couldn’t believe a judge would take her son away on Sal’s word.

  Of course, if she knew her ex-husband, he’d play dirty: fabricate evidence, and convince Mia to back him up, even pay off a buddy to lie for him.

  No, she couldn’t fight this alone.

  She dropped the papers on the coffee table and grabbed her laptop to search for family lawyers.

  “Mom.” Dylan stood at the end of the hall, looking down. “What are you doing?”

  “Some research. What’s up, bud? You look sad.” She set the laptop off the side and patted the spot next to her for him to join.

  Dylan plopped down next to her, and snuggled up into her. “I don’t want to go to Dad’s.”

  Fiona swallowed hard. She’d forgotten this was Sal’s weekend and she’d have to look at his smug face soon. She wrapped Dylan tight in her arms and rested her cheek on the top of his head.

  “Why not, sweetie?”

  “Just ‘cuz.”

  She smiled over his head. It was such logical kid answer, but she got it at the same time. “Sweetie, he’s going to be here soon. Are you not feeling well?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “That’s good, but I kind of need to know why. He’s going to ask and if I say ‘just ‘cuz’ your dad won’t accept that reason.”

  “He made you cry and he’s trying to make Dante go away.”

  Ah, yes, the guys overheard their fight last week. She’d forgotten because Dylan never brought it up and then they’d had so much fun over the weekend. She’d tried desperately over the years to never say anything negative about Sal in front of Dylan or let anyone else. She didn’t want to be one of those bitter parents who poisoned their child against the other parent and caused a rift. Looks like she didn’t have to worry; Sal did it all on his own. But talk about bad timing. If Dylan refused to go now, it would look like she was denying Sal visitation because of the custody battle.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than I look and your dad can’t make Dante go away. Your dad was just upset about the accident. It scared him; just as Dante and I were scared. None of us want to see you hurt.”

  “Dad doesn’t care about me. It’s all about him. I hate him.”

  She couldn’t argue that Sal didn’t make it all about him most of the time, that’s for sure. “Don’t say that, sweetie. You should never hate, it’s not good for you.”

  “It’s how I feel.”

  “Well, hate leads to anger, and you know what happens next…”

  “Yeah. You find out your dad is Darth Vader.”

  “I was going for a different answer, but you kind of got me on that one.” She kissed the top of his head again, wishing she could turn back the clock and take away the pain for him. “What I’m trying to say, poorly apparently, is that you can be mad at your dad, you can disagree with him even, but don’t let it fill your heart. We’re each trying to do what we think is best for you, because we love you. Dad’s not trying to hurt me, honey.”

  “He made you cry.”

  “He did, but sometimes we hurt people even when we don’t mean to. Someday, you’re going to make me cry or you’ll make your girlfriend or wife cry when you don’t mean to. It happens, sweetie. The important thing is not to dwell on it and to move forward.”

  “You mean like forgive and forget?” His dark brown eyes filled with hope and uncertainty.

  “Exactly.”

  “Do I have to forgive and forget right away? Can I be a little mad this weekend?”

  “Dylan Rossi.” She fought the smile. “Just have fun, sweetie.”

  Ah, that kid of hers. She was still shaking her head and chuckling an hour later. No doubt their son would give his father a taste of true parenting over the weekend. It should bother her, knowing her son planned to not be on his best behavior. It was not how she raised him. And maybe a small part of her did feel bad, but the larger part thought Sal deserved it, that he should get to see all sides of their child, especially if he wanted to spend more time with Dylan.

  Maybe if he were enough of a brat over the weekend, Sal would rethink this whole custody battle?

  Now who was letting the negativity rule?

  She would remind her son to be on his best behavior and then as soon as the two were out the door, she’d make the call to the lawyer she’d found. The doorbell rang, and Fiona steeled her nerves. She would not let Sal rile her up again. The exchange would be civil and adult, if not for her sake, then for Dylan’s.

  She opened the door, saw the smirk, and bit her tongue. Clearly he knew she’d gotten the papers that day. He’d probably figured she’d fight him, or refuse to let Dylan go because he wasn’t alone. A yes, his witness for the court. Well, he could guess again.

  She gripped the doorknob and stepped back, inviting both men in.

  “Dylan, let’s go,” Sal shouted.

  “And who’s this?” She asked looking from one to the other since Sal hadn’t bothered with introductions.

  “Frank Brown, Mrs. Rossi…”

  “It’s Sinclair. Fiona Sinclair.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “Do you work with Sal?”

  “Uh, yeah. Frank needed help picking up a fountain in Newport.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What does that mean?” Sal sneered and looked toward the hall.

  “Nothing.” She probably should warn him about Dylan’s mood. “I need to talk to you, in private.”

  “Say what you’ve got to say.” He didn’t move and while Frank had the good graces to look away, he didn’t budge either, confirming he was there to witness any inappropriate behavior from her.

  “It’s not that important.”

  Dylan walked out of his room, dragging his backpack behind him on the ground.

  “What’s with you?” Sal asked.

  Dylan ignored his dad, hugged her and walked out the door. Sal stared at her through narrowed eyes. Fiona shrugged and called out for her son to have a good weekend. Through sheer willpower alone she shut the door quietly instead of slamming it like she wanted. Smug SOB thought he had the upper hand and had already won.

  She grabbed her cell phone and called the number she’d found earlier for one Brody Nichols, family attorney. They’d met briefly at Dante’s parents’ house as Fiona, Dante, and Dylan were leaving and Brody and his family arrived. Avvo had given him a five-star rating and she’d read that in addition to his own practice, he worked with legal aid.

  The secretary answered and put her on hold. It was a long shot, throwing Dante’s sister’s name out there in the hopes Brody would personally take the call, but if she waited until next week, s
he’d get no rest. She had to hit back against Sal and do it quickly. Maybe they could even get this squelched before it went to court.

  The doorbell rang again. A look through the peephole showed Dante, not Sal, so she opened the door and waved him in.

  “Yes, I’m still here. In an hour? Yes, I can be there. Thank you.”

  She hung up and threw the phone at the couch. Her nerves were stretched as far as they could go. Every time she closed her eyes, Sal’s smug smile came back to haunt her.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Dante took her into his arms and kissed her.

  “Feel like making a trip to Providence with me? I’ve got to be at an attorney’s office in an hour.”

  Dante took a step back. “He’s going through with it?”

  “Got the papers today.”

  “Where’s Dylan?”

  “Sal’s already picked him up. They left about ten minutes ago, the two of them along with his chief.” She rolled her eyes at Dante’s shocked expression. “Frank Brown. They gave me some story about Sal needing to help him pick something up in Newport, but I remember the name from last year when I called the command.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”

  She kissed him again and retrieved her phone, purse and the stack of papers. There was no need to change, for once, as she’d had to run errands after work so she had already ditched the yoga clothes for a summer dress.

  “No worries. I’ve got it handled, but I do need to get going. Are you coming?”

  “Yes, of course.” He captured her face in his gentle hands, eyes meeting eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone, Fiona. I’m right here with you.”

  “Thank you.” His words touched deep in her heart, but she didn’t know what to say. She was scared, beyond that, frightened that by opening her heart she would lose everything: her child or possibly him. If push came to shove, she knew what choice she’d make. It wasn’t really even a choice, because Dylan was her child, her life, a part of her. He came first, always.

  “By the way, my appointment is with your friend, Brody. I hope she doesn’t mind. I used Tawny’s name when I called for the appointment.”