by Lynn Burke
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2015 Lynn Burke
ISBN: 978-1-77233-348-0
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Jessica Ruth
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my Pen Sisters. Thank you for encouraging me to follow my dreams.
LONGING FOR HER
Risso Family, 2
Lynn Burke
Copyright © 2015
Cole
“Mr. Risso?” Raquel’s voice came through the intercom on my office desk.
Glancing up from my cell, I pressed the button to reply. “It’s Cole, Raquel.”
“Yes, sir.”
I grinned. One for proper etiquette, my new secretary refused to call me by my preferred name. “What is it?”
“I have the reports, sir, so whenever you’re ready.”
Ready…shit.
I’d forgotten about the meeting. Raquel might have printed out the information I needed to share with Papa and the rest of the board members, but I’d done shit to prepare for the presentation.
Another glance at the phone in my hand, and a groan rose. Spiked red tresses and hazel-green eyes stole my breath every time I tortured myself by pulling up the texted pic from three years earlier.
Gwen Larkin, my baby sister’s best friend and soon-to-be maid of honor. Borderline gothic clothing painted her as a free spirit, the type of girl who refused to conform herself to what others expected. One who knew her mind and didn’t hesitate in speaking it.
The only girl I’d ever wanted.
Ten years older than her twenty-five, I knew she’d crushed on me as a kid. She’d sleep over at the house and prance around in a long t-shirt, her budding body and shapely legs tempting the hell out of me. All through high school and into college, she tossed smirks over her shoulder, her eyes begging me to respond.
I waited, hoping she’d tame down a bit. Become a young woman Papa would approve of.
Never happened, and when she and my sister Lia graduated from college, I couldn’t help myself—I gave in to temptation. Rather, I didn’t say no when she reached across my car’s console, put her hand on my cock, and ordered me to pull over.
I ceased to exist to her afterward. She never came to my parents’ for dinner. Phone calls never got returned. Texts went unanswered.
She and Lia rented their own place in Boston’s north end, and the months passed without my seeing her.
Three long-ass years dragged by, and not once did I lose myself in another woman. Gwen haunted me. The satiny feel of her skin under my hands. Her scent. Taste.
Damn it.
I swiped the picture away and tossed my phone on the desk.
“Raquel?” I said into the intercom while smoothing down my tie.
“Yes, Mr. Risso?”
“I’m going to need a quick look at those files.”
****
For the first time since I officially accepted a position in the family business, I showed up late to a meeting. I pulled open the door and gestured Raquel in ahead of me. As always, the board members hovered around a platter of donuts while waiting for Papa to call them to order.
Bigger than your typical Italian, he frowned at me from above most of their heads, his dark eyes full of displeasure. Toe to toe, I stood two inches taller, but Papa still intimidated the shit out of me.
Rarely did he cast his scowl my way. I was the good son. The one who bowed down without question, the one who always considered what Papa would think.
Not that I had a choice. I was next in line for the Risso patriarchic throne.
I slid onto a chair beside the only other seated person—my brother Zane, who didn’t understand what being on time meant.
Raquel made her way around the oblong table, placing the reports she’d printed before each empty chair.
Zane’s gaze glued to her ass, and a low whistle sounded. “Who the fuck is that?”
“My new secretary.” I leafed through my file one last time, cramming like a college kid with a hangover. “And I’d appreciate it if you kept your dick in your pants for a change.”
“Let’s get started.” Papa’s gruff voice quieted the room, and the twelve advisors took their seats. “Sebastiano can’t be with us today, so Ercole is going to update us on the progress in West Virginia. Son?”
I cleared my throat while standing, wishing like hell that for once—just once—Papa would call me Cole like everyone else. A quick glance at the papers spread on the table before me, and I started sharing my youngest brother’s accomplishments in the South. Statistics. Accounting records.
Boring shit I dealt with on a daily basis.
As a kid, I’d dreamed of being a history teacher even though I knew Papa had long since planned my path through college and beyond as a CEO of Risso’s Supermarkets. I wanted to impart knowledge, not discuss price differentials and marketing ploys to gain new customers.
Count your blessings, Mom always said. Rarely did an immigrant become successful in the way Papa did. We had a lot to be thankful for.
While I appreciated Papa’s hard work and the easier life his accomplishments had afforded our family, I wished for the freedom to map out my own life. Unlike with Zane, though, my parents’ teachings to respect and obey embedded in my heart and mind as a kid. Just wish my compliance had brought personal happiness along the way.
****
Zane downed a shot of whiskey. “I’m going to ask her out.”
I swallowed my mouthful of beer and thunked the empty bottle down, peering at Zane in the bar’s dim pendant lighting. “Like hell you are.”
He raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “She’s the hottest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. God, that ass. Those tits.”
“She’s my secretary.” I stabbed my fork into a steak tip. “Papa will can your ass for sure if you start sleeping with our employees.”
His chuckle was nearly lost in the laughter and live music blaring in the background. “Remember that blonde chick who ran the mail last summer?”
“Are you shittin’ me?” I angled on my stool to face him. “God damn it, Zane. Don’t you have any sense of decorum?”
He shot me a grin, blue-gray eyes like my own lit with amusement. “Not when it comes to fucking.”
Shaking my head, I turned away and shoveled the steak into my mouth.
Ricky, Brennan’s bartender and our good friend, made his way over. “Need another, Zane?”
“Yeah. And get Cole here something strong enough to blow the stick out of his ass.”
They shared a laugh, and I chimed in with a sarcastic smile. “Raquel is an innocent,” I said once Ricky moved away. “A baby-faced, fresh out of college kid. Only reason she got the job is because she’s Hawkins’ daughter.”
“Who the hell is Hawkins?”
“Fuck.” I slapped down my fork. “Do you mean to tell me you don’t even know the regional managers’ names?”
“Nope.” Zane tilted back his head, downing another shot. “Never gave a flying fuck. Never will.”
“It’s a wonder Papa hasn’t disowned you.”
My brother’s gaze flitted to my still-knotted tie and suit jacket. “And you’ve got your head so far up his ass, it’s a wonder you’ve got a
dick of your own. Wait. You do, don’t you?”
“Fuck off, Zane.”
“No. Seriously. You’ve been acting like a PMS-ing bitch for months. Do you even know what a pussy looks like? Tastes like?”
My scowling reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles stared at me as I swigged my beer.
“Shit, man.” Zane ran a hand through his dark hair. “When’s the last time you got laid?”
“Three years ago,” I mumbled beneath the bar’s din.
He leaned forward, his ear toward me. “What?”
“It’s been three years.”
His eyebrows shot up and he sat back on his stool. “What the fuck, Cole?”
Hunched over my food again, I shrugged.
“You goin’ monk?”
Ignoring him, I speared another steak tip.
“If it’s ’cuz you can’t find anyone, I know a shit-load of women who’d be willing to spread their legs. Hell, I know a few guys who’d be happy to get your rocks off if that’s what you’re into.”
“Thanks, but no.”
Zane’s gaze bored into me. “Who the hell fucked you up? Someone I know?”
My brothers were my two best friends, and I never told them what had happened with Gwen. God knows they’d both give me shit.
I peered at Zane, considering how much he’d give me while the music blared in my ears. I leaned toward him, serious as shit. “You tell anyone and I’ll fuck you up so bad even Mom won’t recognize you.”
He scowled. “You know I won’t.”
“Gwen.”
Zane’s head jerked back like I’d slapped him. “Gwen? She…she’s like a little sister.”
I picked up my beer and swirled the amber liquid. “Maybe to you. I’ve always had a thing for her.”
“What happened?”
“After their graduation dinner at Sorellina’s, Lia asked me to take Gwen home. On the way, Gwen confessed to always wanting me.”
“Fuck, man. How come I never noticed?”
I shrugged and swigged. “I’ve known since she was thirteen. The wine must have taken over. She had a little too much that night.”
Zane snorted. “Who didn’t?”
“Yeah, well my cock finally decided I didn’t give a fuck about Papa and his planned future for my life. Pulled into the first dark alley I could find.” I closed my eyes, reliving the memory that visited my dreams more often than I liked. “She told me to lay the seat back as she shimmied out of her panties. I about blew my load before she even straddled me. Fuck.” I pressed my palms against my eyes.
“And?”
“And I was so turned on, I didn’t think about a condom, or why she felt so damn tight until I got home later and found a few spots of blood on my pants.”
“Oh shit.”
A rare glimpse of compassion shone in Zane’s eyes. “Yeah, but that’s not the worst part. She fuckin’ blew my mind, and not two seconds after catching my breath, I muttered something about Papa never agreeing to our being together.”
Lips in a thin line, my brother shook his head.
“She slumped back in her seat and told me to take her home. Hasn’t spoken to me since.” I grabbed up my fork, needing to stab something. “She’s all I’ve ever wanted, and the thought of sleeping with any other woman makes me sick.”
“Fuck, man, I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say. Gwen isn’t the princess Papa wants for me, and it’s a damn shame.”
Zane shrugged a shoulder. “You could always tell Papa to pound sand.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. “I’d lose everything I have.”
My brother peered at me. “Probably, but at least you’d have what you want.”
Gwen
I sat cross-legged on our couch as I did every morning, checking all my social sites and guzzling black nectar of the gods.
“Gwen!” Lia’s voice echoed through our apartment. “Have you seen the new heels I bought for tonight?”
“Yup. Out here by the bookshelf.”
Bleary-eyed and long, black hair a rumpled rat’s nest, Lia stumbled down the hallway.
My grin earned a scowl. “Coffee’s ready.”
“Thank God.” She grabbed a mug, poured, and sipped as I scrolled through one of my dating sites. “Mmm. Nothing like that first swig in the morning.”
The early morning sun peeked around the edges of the window shade, and I shifted to the side to escape its glare. “So, Mrs. Soon-to-be-Walsh, what’s on the agenda for today?”
Lia dropped onto the couch beside me, coffee cradled in her hands. Plump lips pursed, she blew steam across the top of her mug. “Spa.”
“That’s it?”
“The wedding planner asked me to stop by the florist for some last minute suggestions for the head table’s arrangement. All those favors we made,” her jaw cracked on a yawn, “need to be dropped off at the hall, and I need to swing by my parents’ to drop off our bags and get the checks for the DJ, the caterer’s final payment, and the limo company.”
“What time is the rehearsal?”
Lia swallowed down more coffee and moaned. “Six, with dinner right after. You did pack a bag for tonight, didn’t you?”
“I’m going to stay here.”
“It’s the night before my wedding, Gwen. I want you with me.”
Shrugging, I downed another swallow of coffee. “It’s your last night as your parents’ little girl—figured they might want you all to themselves.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You spent more time at my house than your own growing up. You’re family.”
She had no idea how much I wished her words could be true. While Mr. and Mrs. Risso might see me as an adopted daughter, they certainly wouldn’t want me to be more. “All right. I’ll stay over, but although you’re one hot ticket, no footsies under the covers.”
A rare morning smile lifted Lia’s lips. “Done.”
“Don’t we have a nail appointment this morning, too?”
“Damn. I forgot about that.” She hopped off the couch and started toward the bathroom. “We have to be there by nine.”
A door clicked, leaving me in silence. I glanced at the clock.
Eight. I’ve still got time.
Another sip of coffee, and I logged into the second of the three dating websites I used. “Ooo, hello, royal hottie.” Leaning forward, I swiped through pictures of some guy named Jason from the North Shore.
God knew after the weekend ahead of me I was going to need help trying to take my focus off Cole Risso. It had been a long time since I’d seen him, but the memory of his face was etched in my mind. Olive skin and black hair like Lia’s, but with their mother’s Irish blue eyes. Eyes that peered through me, right to my soul. Eyes I’d been dreaming about since middle school.
Heaving a sigh, I tried focusing on the half-naked man filling my computer screen. Shoulders of a carpenter, with lickable abs, and indented hips leading to heaven. A little tickle and poke with his kick-ass body might do the trick.
Maybe he would be the one, the one to finally bring about an orgasm like I had three years earlier. My first and only.
With Cole.
No amount of crazy monkey sex since then had pushed me over the edge. Not for lack of trying. At least once a week with almost complete strangers. Something had to be wrong with my body’s inability to climax, but I wasn’t one for talking to a shrink.
Lia didn’t judge, and she never once asked why I acted like such a whore. Although she was my best friend, I would never tell her the truth—how one night of passion with her oldest brother, the one I’d loved since I was a kid, ruined me for any other man.
“Shit.” I downed the last swallow from my mug, shut the laptop without responding to Jason’s request to meet him, and put it on the coffee table. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
For three long years, I evaded Cole as best I could. Sure, we’d run into each other, but a good six months had passed since I’d seen him last
.
And tonight there’ll be no avoiding him.
The thought turned my blood molten and my panties damp.
Growling over my body’s instant response to Cole and Cole alone, I stomped into the kitchen for more coffee. I tried pushing thoughts of him from my mind, but the memory of the way he groaned my name while coming…
“Fuckin’ A, Gwen,” I hissed at myself, eyes clenched tight. “You love him, so let him go. Focus. Lia. Wedding. Manicures. Red bridesmaid dresses with tulle. Heels.” A shudder rippled across my shoulders.
Yup. Much better.
Scrubbing my hands through the crunchy, still-gelled red spikes of hair sticking up from the top of my head, I headed back down the hallway. Lia would have preferred I have the hairdresser attempt something with my mess, but I’d decided to be me.
As always.
If I wasn’t good enough for Papa—Salvatore Risso—then he could kiss my ass.
****
My heart raced.
The strapless bra I wore under the black dress Lia insisted on was clamped around my chest like a vice, making it difficult to breathe. Even with the glass of wine I’d sucked down before leaving our apartment, I felt sure cardiac arrest hid around the next block.
The limo turned onto Comm Ave as I tugged on the hidden underwire.
“Quit fidgeting.” Lia topped off her flute of champagne. “You’re going to wrinkle that silk.”
“It’s your fault.” I growled, trying to adjust my boobs by squeezing my arms against my chest. “The damn bra is too tight.”
“Don’t you dare take it off.”
“Any night other than your rehearsal, and I would.”
She burst into nervous laughter. “I never could have imagined that blind date you set up for me last year would lead to this.”
I grinned. “Guess my dating sites are good for something, huh?”
Lia’s smile faded. “I wish you’d find someone like Ryan.”
“I rather enjoy my flavor of the week, thank you very much.”
“Don’t you ever…I don’t know…want to connect on a deeper level with someone?”
“Sex is connecting,” I said into my flute before taking a sip.
“That’s not what I mean.”