Things go from wild to frenzied. His hands move under my T-shirt; then it’s gone. I do the same with his, tossing it to the floor. Leaning back, he traces the lace edge of my bra with his fingers and then tugs it down, dips his head, and pulls my nipple into his warm mouth, sucking hard. I cry out, raising my hips into his and grinding myself against him as he cups my neglected breast, pulling at my nipple through the lacy material. My core clenches, and my mind starts to catch up with what’s happening as he kisses down my stomach to the edge of the jeans I have on.
“Antonio,” I whisper.
He lifts his head, his dark, lust-filled eyes meeting mine. Unhooking the button to my jeans, he pulls down the zipper and then tugs my jeans and panties down my hips.
Oh god.
My mind goes blank. I forget everything and arch into him when his fingers touch me where no one ever has.
“Wet,” he rumbles, sliding his fingers through my folds. My body locks as he starts to slide one finger inside of me.
“I’m a virgin,” I whisper.
I watch in horror as his whole body gets tight. His eyes close down right before mine.
“What?” He pushes off the couch quickly. Standing, he looks down at me, his chest and abs heaving with each deep breath he takes.
“I . . . oh god.” I cover my face with my hands, wishing I could disappear. “I’m sorry . . . I . . .”
“Jesus,” he says softly. I pull my hands from my face and sit up, dragging my jeans back up over my hips. Tears start to fill my eyes when he turns his back on me and lifts his hands to his hair, tugging it. “Fuck me. What the fuck was I thinking?”
What was he thinking? Oh god.
Humiliated, I look around. I pick up the first shirt I see, then I toss it away like it’s on fire when I see that it’s his. I find mine and pull it down over my head. I stand and look around for my stuff. I put on my coat and grab my bag, then move as quickly as I can to the door. I don’t look back. I don’t stop to talk to him. I get out of there, running on my heels as fast as my legs will take me. When I get to the door, I fumble with the lock and whimper in distress when I can’t get it open.
I feel Antonio get close, and I back up three steps when he reaches out for me.
“Libby.”
“Don’t.” I keep my eyes from his, locking them on the floor near his feet. “Please don’t. Please just open the door so I can go,” I whisper as tears start to roll down my cheeks.
“Princess,” he says softly, reaching out toward me again. I take another hasty step back.
“Don’t.” I look up at him, and he flinches. “Don’t.”
“I’ll walk you home.”
“I don’t need you to walk me home.”
“Honey, let me get my coat. Let me walk you home. We can talk.”
“Open the door!” I scream, knowing I look insane but not caring at all. I’m so embarrassed, so humiliated. I need to get out of here now. “Please open the door so I can just go.” I drop my eyes and see him move, then I hear the door open.
Careful not to touch him, I leave the restaurant. When I make it home, I stand in the foyer, breathing heavily, before rushing upstairs to my apartment. I pour a glass of wine to settle my nerves, then take it with me to the bathroom. I fill up the tub and get in, hoping to forget that tonight ever happened.
Chapter 5
CHALLENGE
ANTONIO
Leaning back in my dad’s old office chair in front of his worn wooden desk, I look around at the pictures and newspaper clippings framed on the walls. I loved this place when I was a little kid, but once I started growing up, I began to resent it. I used to hate spending my days after school right here, in this chair, doing my homework. I hated that I couldn’t go home after school like a normal kid or have dinner at home with my parents like all the other kids I knew did. As the years went on and my dad started to age, my resentment toward this place only got stronger. I could see the effect the pizzeria was having on my dad. He was too stubborn to hire more people to help him out. I guess I won’t have to worry about that anymore since it’s now going to be sold to someone else and will be someone else’s problem to deal with.
Fuck . . .
As relieved as I am to know I won’t have to watch this place slowly kill my dad, I am still going to miss it. It’s a part of me. It’s a part of almost every memory I have.
Rubbing my hand down my scruffy jaw, my eyes land on the couch against the wall. I flinch. Yeah, there are a lot of memories in this place—some better than others.
Libby . . .
Libby, the sexiest woman I have ever met in my life, is a virgin. When that information came out of her mouth, I swear to god my mind screamed, Mine! It freaked me the hell out. I’ve wanted her from the moment we met, but I thought I could never go there, not with her. I know women like her. I was in love with a woman just like her. One who needed the best of everything. One who wanted things I couldn’t give her—including a life I didn’t want for myself. When she ended things between us, she told me my dreams weren’t her dreams, that she couldn’t be happy with the life I could provide for us, that she wanted more. She had begged me to take over the shop from my dad when she overheard him and me talking about it. She wanted me to start a franchise, to build the family business so that I could give her a house in the city and an endless amount of money to buy whatever designer shit she thought she needed. I never wanted to run the shop. I wanted to be a firefighter. I wanted to help protect the city I love. I found out a few weeks after we broke up that she had been seeing some hotshot lawyer on the side, a man who had the kind of money to give her the life she wanted. Unfortunately for her, the guy was already married and wasn’t at all interested in divorcing his wife for his sidepiece. In my opinion, she got what was coming to her.
Shaking my head, I scrub my hands down my face and then pull them away when the door to the office opens up.
Libby steps inside. Her wide, surprise-filled eyes lock with mine. My breath freezes in my lungs. I force myself to stay where I am when all I want to do is go after her, pin her to the couch, and finish what we started. I haven’t seen her since the night everything between us went to shit. I had followed her home—without even putting on a jacket or locking up the shop—so I could make sure she made it home okay. She was so upset that she didn’t even notice I was there.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
I watch in awe as her cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink. Fuck, she’s beautiful. So fucking pretty that she almost doesn’t seem real. She has the kind of beauty you’d expect to see on the cover of a magazine or on TV, not working at a salon or a pizza parlor.
I lean forward in the chair, causing it to squeak. She jumps slightly at the noise.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
Fuck! Why did I say that, even if it’s the truth?
I’ve been frustrated for the last few days by not being able to get ahold of her when all I wanted to know is if she was okay.
“I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
“You’re wrong.” I bite back a growl of frustration when she turns away from me, drops her bag onto the couch, and slips off her jacket. I walk around the edge of the desk and lean against it, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt to try and get myself under control. “We should talk about what happened.”
“We shouldn’t.” She spins around to face me. “I don’t want to talk about that. Not now, not ever.”
“We’re going to talk about it, Libby,” I say softly.
“No, we’re not,” she vows.
Then I notice her shoes.
“Where are your heels?” I lift my head to look at her.
“What?” Her perfectly shaped brows pull together over her beautiful eyes.
“Your heels. Why are you wearing sneakers?”
“Sheesh. Can’t a girl wear sneakers without everyone questioning her?” she asks.
I wonder jealously who else might
have pointed out that she’s wearing sneakers instead of the heels that are always on her feet.
“I need to get out front. Peggy needs help.”
She starts for the door, but I step in front of her and block her path. I watch her face pale and her chest start to rise and fall rapidly. Dropping my eyes to her mouth, I take a step toward her. She takes a step back, putting her hand up as heat crackles between us.
“Antonio . . .”
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
My eyes focus on her worry-filled ones.
“I’m wondering what will happen if I kiss you again.”
“You’re not kissing me again,” she says firmly, with a shake of her head. She takes another step back.
“I might.” I take another step toward her. “Unless you’re going to use that mouth of yours to talk to me.”
“We’re not talking, either.”
“Then I’m going to kiss you.”
“No, you are not.” She looks around the office, trying to find a way to get away from me.
“Then talk to me,” I growl.
Her jaw clenches.
“What do you want to talk about?” she finally asks, seeing there is no way out.
“You know what I want to talk about.”
“Yeah, I know. But instead, I think we should talk about the way you’ve been such a jerk to me. The way you’ve made me feel like crap because . . . because of the way I dress, because I wear makeup and heels. Or maybe you want to talk about the way you treated me after . . .” Her cheeks get darker. “After I told you what I told you. How about we talk about all of that?” she suggests.
My chest gets tight.
Yeah, I fucked up royally with her. No doubt about it.
“Libby . . .” I reach for her, but she steps to the side before I can touch her.
“Like I said, I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
“We do. You caught me off guard, and—”
“Stop.” She shakes her head, cutting me off. “I don’t want to do this tonight. Please,” she whispers.
Seeing the tiredness and defeat in her eyes, my gut tightens right along with my chest.
“I’ll give you time,” I agree. “But we’re going to talk, Libby.”
“Fine.” She nods. “Now will you move out of my way so I can get to work? It’s New Year’s Eve, and there is already a line of people out the door.”
Stepping aside, I let her go even though every instinct is telling me not to. When the door closes behind her, I run my fingers through my hair.
Fuck. I want her.
I’ve wanted her for a long fucking time, but I’ve done jack shit about it besides push her away. Now I need to see if I can somehow undo that damage. At that thought, I smile. I have always loved a good challenge—and I know that Libby is going to be just that.
I open the door to the office, then lock it behind me and go to the back of the shop, where Libby is making pizzas with Hector.
Meeting Hector’s gaze, I nod toward him. “I got this if you want to help Marco.”
I watch his eyes go to Libby. He looks at her with a question in his eyes.
“It’s okay,” she tells him.
My jaw clenches as he lifts his chin and then moves to the opposite side of Libby. Like it’s happened every time I’ve worked with her, we fall right into sync.
Her sister Mackenzie told me that Libby was a hard worker, but I didn’t believe her. All I saw were Libby’s expensive clothes and her perfectly styled hair and makeup. I thought she was just like my ex, that all she cared about was money. I was wrong about her. There is no way in hell my ex would ever have stepped in to help out like Libby has. If she had been forced to help, she would have complained the entire time. I’ve never heard Libby complain—not even once. She’s never complained about washing dishes, busing tables, or making pies. She doesn’t say that she’s tired, but I know she must be from working two jobs most days. Instead, she’s always smiling, always happy. As if she wouldn’t rather be anywhere else than right here, working and getting her hands dirty. Looking at her profile and the frown I put on her face, I fight the urge to sigh. Yeah, I was wrong about her. Now I need to prove to her that I’m not the jerk I’ve shown myself to be more than once. I have my work cut out for me. If someone ever treated me the way I’ve treated her, they would see my back—and nothing else ever again. I just hope she’s not as bitter and fucked-up as I am.
The first time I saw her at the shop, she was with her sisters. They were sitting at one of the booths in the back. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I noticed that she had been having the same problem with looking at me. I had been about to make my approach and introduce myself to her when I overheard her talking to her sisters about some designer bag she wanted. Hearing that was like a bucket of cold water hitting me in the face. After that, I shoved her right in the same box as my ex. Looking at her once more now, I just hope that I can find a way to convince her to forgive me.
I see a smile light up her face, and I’m surprised when she suddenly stops what she’s doing and slides a half-made pizza to Hector to finish.
“Be right back,” she tells him as she spins around. “Lucas! Madeline!” she shouts happily as she hurries past the counter. A little girl of probably four or five throws herself into Libby’s arms and giggles while a man who’s my age or maybe a few years older stands back, watching them embrace with a smile on his face. The moment the little girl lets go, Libby’s eyes go to the guy. Her expression fills with a sweetness I haven’t seen before. She wraps her arms around his waist. Jealousy, hot and ugly, turns my stomach and warms my blood as I watch them.
“You okay, amigo?” Hector questions.
I pull my gaze off Libby to look at him.
“I’m good.”
“You sure?” He drops his eyes to my hands, and I realize the ball of dough I have in my grasp has been mangled by my clenched fists.
I shake my hands and narrow my eyes at Hector and Marco, who are both smirking at me.
“What?” Neither of them says anything, and both of them get back to work. Pressing out another crust, I look over my shoulder at Libby. She’s coming back behind the counter, and the man and girl are walking out the door with a pizza that they must have called in for pickup.
“Who was that?” I ask when our eyes meet and her step falters.
“That’s Fawn’s fiancé’s brother and his daughter.”
Her words catch me off guard, and I stare at her for a long moment. I’ve known both of her sisters for years, but until recently I didn’t even know that either of them was dating anyone serious.
“Fawn’s engaged?” I ask.
Her startled eyes dart from the pizza she’s dusting with cheese to meet mine.
“She got engaged at Christmas.”
“What?” I ask, watching her smile.
“Levi, Fawn’s boyfriend, asked her to marry him Christmas morning,” she says, dropping her eyes back to the pizza in front of her.
“Didn’t they just start dating?” I ask, remembering Libby and some guy coming in for pizza not long after Halloween.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little quick to suddenly be engaged?”
“They’re in love. What does it matter if they get engaged now or a year from now? I think when you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you should spend the rest of your life with them—especially when you don’t know how long your life will be.”
“That sounds like a line out of a romance movie,” I say, remembering her aversion to romantic movies and how adamant she was about disliking them.
She peeks up at me and shrugs one shoulder. “I guess it does.”
“So you do like romance?” I nudge my shoulder against hers, and she rubs her lips together.
“I might not like romance movies, but I’m still a girl. I like the color pink, heels, makeup, and designer clothes. I also li
ke the idea of falling in love and finding my own Prince Charming to build a life with one day. Who doesn’t want to fall in love and live happily ever after?”
“I’ve been in love before. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
She licks her bottom lip. “Maybe you weren’t in love with the right person.”
I stare into her eyes, then clear my throat. “Yeah, maybe.” I pull my eyes away from hers.
Really, there is no maybe about it. I shouldn’t have fallen in love with my ex. I only saw what I wanted to see. I stupidly thought that, in time, she would change her ways. That if I could just love her enough she would see that material things weren’t important, that family was all that mattered. I really believed she would eventually be happy with the life I was trying to build for us. In the end, I was just never enough.
“Two minutes until midnight!” Peggy shouts as I lock the door behind the last customer of the night and head toward the kitchen.
Marco pops a bottle of champagne. Lola takes it from him and starts to fill plastic champagne glasses. Seeing my parents standing there with their arms around each other, I smile. My dad looks good—better than he has in weeks. The worry lines around my mom’s eyes have started to fade away. They both look happy, which is a relief. Dad’s heart attack scared them both. I had never seen my mom cry so much or seen my dad look weak. He’s always been strong. Having been together since they were eighteen, neither of them would know how to function without the other.
“Can I have some, Mom?” Peggy and Hector’s daughter, Valeria, asks her as she eyes the bottle of champagne Lola is holding.
“When have I ever let you drink alcohol?” Peggy asks with a frown.
“Dad’s let me have a sip of his beer before.”
“Has he?” Peggy looks at Hector and raises a brow.
“It was only one time,” he mutters, wrapping his bulky arm around Valeria’s shoulder. “There’s sparkling cider for you.”
“Fine,” she grumbles, taking a glass from her dad.
Tossed Into Love (Fluke My Life Book 3) Page 6