What was he doing?
And why wasn’t she stopping him?
Her brain was clearly losing this battle. Francesca felt his hand swipe her wet hair off her neck and around to the other shoulder. Then his lips brushed against her neck, right behind her ear, and she almost melted into a puddle of goo. Instead of moving away, he pressed closer against her as he kissed her again. Then he stopped for a moment, and with one hand gently cupped her chin and turned her face slightly so that she could look at him over her shoulder. His black hair was soaking wet, and water dripped from his eyelashes down his face. She could just imagine how she looked, her red hair plastered against her head, her eyeliner smeared, her clothes soaked. But to her surprise, she couldn’t care less.
—
Never had Tony seen a more beautiful Francesca. Raccoon-eyed, cheeks red, hair soaked. And she was looking at him as if he was the big bad wolf about to eat her. Which he was. When her lips parted a little, he took the opportunity to lean forward and—
“Frances?” A loud, familiar voice yelled from somewhere nearby. Francesca immediately startled, and the trance was broken as she pushed away from Tony.
His eyes narrowed. “Slade?”
Francesca nodded and swallowed. She seemed flustered. “Yes. And Jessica, Jack, Chrissy, Violet, and Cain.” He deflated. A full house. Opportunity definitely lost, he thought. Here he was a second away from kissing her, and they were interrupted. Didn’t life just suck sometimes?
“Since they live by the ocean, they were evacuated, and I invited them all,” she said over her shoulder as she jogged toward the house. “You can stay too, if you’d like.”
He thought about it. He was still living out of a hotel. A hotel right by the beach. Surely it was being evacuated. Plus it was an opportunity to stay close to the woman he wanted to sleep with in the worst way. “You know, Francesca Silva, you talk tough, but you’re just a big softy,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “I’ll stay.”
She squared her shoulders and put her hands on her waist. “Am not!” she said with a cheeky smile, because really she was. Especially when it came to Tony, it seemed.
He chuckled as she followed him inside her house.
Chrissy and Jack walked in first. Chrissy dropped a duffel bag in a corner and hugged Francesca. “Thank you for letting us stay over.”
“No problem,” Francesca said.
Jessica came running in as she closed an umbrella. “Oh, God. It’s really getting ugly outside.” She gave Francesca a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Where can we store these assholes?” Slade said as he walked inside and wiped his feet on the mat by the door, nodding at the carriers he held in his hands.
Jessica scowled. “Don’t call our puppies assholes, Slade.”
“Babe.” He shook his head. “Every time I come close, they bite me. They’re assholes.”
“Then why would you keep them?” Tony asked.
Slade smiled so sweetly at Jessica, it made Francesca’s heart skip. If any man ever smiled at her that way, she’d probably go into coronary arrest. “Because Jessica loves them. She wanted them. And—”
“The pussy does whatever his girl wants,” Jack interrupted.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m the pussy?” Slade put the two carriers at the far end of the hall that led to the bedrooms. “Because if my count is correct, two of these assholes are mine. But,” he said, pointing to the others, “these three other assholes, and the father of all assholes, Drogo, are all yours because my sister wanted them. ’Cause she said they were ‘cute.’ ” He made air quotes disgustedly. “And you fucking hate dogs more than I do and yet here we are, brother. With two big-ass carriers with six fucking mean-ass dogs in the middle of a hurricane.”
Jack plopped down on the couch next to Chrissy and lifted her onto his lap. “I never said I wasn’t a pussy too.” He bent down to give Chrissy a kiss. “Anything for you, baby.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to train with you two vaginas?” Tony scoffed. “Seriously, I need more testosterone in my trainers. Get your asses up and help me board up the sliding door, will ya?”
Everyone roared with laughter as Jack and Slade headed back out into the storm with Tony. A minute later there was a knock at the front door. Francesca hurried forward and opened it. Cain stood on the other side. “Yo,” he said in the form of a hello.
“Hi, Cain. Come in.” She stood aside, and he walked in.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly.
“No problem. Please, make yourself at home. The guys are out back putting up some plywood,” Francesca said. The Viking didn’t say anything in response; he just walked out through the sliding door.
Francesca went to the kitchen to grab some snacks and brought them to the living room where the women sat. “Please help yourself to anything. What can I get you to drink?”
“I brought some wine,” Jessica offered.
The howling noise grew louder. “I guess the hurricane’s getting closer,” Chrissy said.
“The guys had better hurry it up,” Jessica added.
“It should be fast. It’s just a few boards they have to nail on.”
Twenty minutes later, the guys came back inside through the front door. Jessica handed them towels and beers, which they all took before sitting down by the women.
“My reception’s dead. Anyone have reception?” Chrissy said, looking at her phone.
“Who’re you calling, babe?” Jack asked.
“Violet. She said she was coming over. She should be here by now.”
The normally quiet Cain sat up. “Vi’s coming?”
“Yep,” Francesca said, looking down at her phone. “I don’t have any reception either.”
Cain stood. “Why didn’t I know this? It’s dangerous out there. She shouldn’t be driving.” He seemed alarmed. Francesca didn’t know the entire story, but apparently Violet and Cain had grown up together in Texas and hadn’t seen each other for years until a few months ago, when Violet had moved to Tarpon Springs, not realizing that Cain also lived here. The few times Francesca had seen them together, he was always arguing with her about…well, anything and everything. As far as she could tell, they weren’t together. In fact, Francesca wasn’t even sure if they liked each other.
All of them startled at the sound of a cracking palm tree and the gusting winds making the walls of the house shake.
Francesca moved to the front door. “Stay away from the door,” Tony warned. She stood on the tips of her toes to see through the little glass panel. The skies were dark and the only thing visible was rain.
Cain stalked to the front door and unlocked it. “Where are you going?” Francesca asked, her hand on his forearm.
“Going to find Vi.”
Francesca stood in front of the door to block him. “You can’t go anywhere in this weather. I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just went to JL’s or Travis’s house.” Unfortunately, this just seemed to further anger the man.
“Move,” was all he said. But Francesca stood her ground. She was not going to willingly let Cain out into a hurricane. That was insane.
Tony was suddenly now standing beside her. “Francesca,” he said in a warning tone. He’d been doing this all day and it was really starting to get under her skin.
“You can’t be serious, Tony. Listen to the wind. It’s bad out there. You can’t let him go.”
“It’s not up to us. Let him go. Violet’s his. He needs to go get her.”
“Violet’s his? What the fuck does that even mean? Where are you from? Here in America, we women don’t belong to anyone.”
Cain snarled and looked like he was about to physically move Francesca out of the way when frantic knocks sounded on the door. Francesca quickly turned around and opened it. Violet stood there, soaking wet, her arms crossed over her chest, her teeth chattering.
Cain went around Francesca and pulled her inside. “Where were you?” he asked tersely as he held her shoulders, looking h
er over. His eyes skimmed up and down her body, then he cupped her face. “Scared the shit out of me, Vi.”
Chrissy came in with a towel, but before she had a chance to wrap it around Violet, Cain snatched it from her and covered Violet with it.
“Broken tree on the road,” Violet mumbled. “Had to walk the last block. No cell reception. I’m fine.” When Cain didn’t release her, she repeated, “I’m fine, Cain.” He nodded and let go abruptly, as if he’d just realized how he was reacting.
Francesca left him by the door and led Violet to the bathroom for a warm shower.
About an hour later, the women were sprawled out in the living room, some on the carpet and some on the couches.
“It’s been years since I’ve been in a hurricane,” Francesca said, handing out more beers. The guys were by the sliding glass door looking at the back of the wood through the vibrating glass. Francesca heard Tony say, “I hope it holds.”
“Me too. All those years with Doctors Without Borders, I went to places after things like hurricanes, earthquakes, tornadoes hit. Never before,” Chrissy said.
“I hate hurricanes. They scare me to death. Look.” Jessica put her hands out in front of her—they were shaking.
At that moment, the men came back into the room. They were a sight to behold. Four professional MMA fighters, all tall, brawny, and intimidating: Jack, with his short blondish hair; Slade, the most muscular-looking of the bunch, with his long black hair and blue eyes; Cain, the tallest of the group, leaner than the rest but seriously scary; and Tony, the shortest of the group, with his perfectly imperfect face.
She took the opportunity to study Tony more closely. Francesca estimated he was about six foot one, with beautiful olive skin, smoldering dark eyes, wide shoulders, and plump, juicy lips. The scar on his face marred his lips, but it did nothing to take away from the sexy look. Of all four men, he was probably the least naturally attractive but definitely the sexiest. And it wasn’t just his looks. The way he said her name sent tingles down her spine. His accent seemed to make him that much more…sensual.
“You got any games?” Jessica asked.
Francesca took a sip of her beer. “Not really. I think I have cards somewhere.”
“We can always play ‘I Never,’ ” Chrissy mused.
“I used to play that in college with JL all the time,” Violet said with her normal chirpy tone. Cain rolled his eyes and sat on the far end of the couch, one leg crossed over his knee.
“Yes! Let’s play that. But we need more alcohol,” Jessica said.
Francesca was about to get up, but Tony waved her off. “I’ll get it. Stay sitting.” She had to admit it—he liked to do things for her. At first it had made her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to men doing things for her. She wasn’t used to anyone doing things for her, for that matter. But he never gave her the option; he just said he’d do it, and he did it. The man was domineering. Oddly, she didn’t seem to mind too much. She knew she was setting the female liberation movement back a hundred years, but damn if it didn’t feel good to be taken care of.
Calm down, Frances. You’re getting all riled up over a man bringing you a drink! You need therapy!
“You okay, cariño?” He leaned down to look at her.
“Uh…sorry. What was the question?”
The group laughed. “Exactly how many beers have you had?” Violet asked.
“I said I would bring drinks, and then you went away,” Tony said.
“Oh. Yes. Drinks. You’re getting ’em. Yes. Thanks,” Francesca answered, flustered.
He returned with cups filled about a third of the way with a colorful-looking drink.
“What’s this?” Jack asked.
“Just drink up. It’s a shot,” Tony said. The girls shrugged and gulped it down.
“Seriously? Not even going to ask what’s in it?” Slade asked.
The girls ignored his comment.
“Yum,” Francesca said. “More?”
Tony had a shaker with more of the liquid and poured the rest into the girls’ cups. Slade and Jack looked at Tony warily. “Come on. Just drink it. It’s not like you’ve got anywhere to be.”
The guys shrugged, much like the girls, and threw back their drinks.
Once the shaker was empty, Tony put a bottle of wine and a bottle of whiskey on the coffee table. Everyone filled their glasses with their drink of choice and sat back down.
“Okay, so esplain this ‘I Never’ game,” Tony said.
“Dude, it’s explain, not esplain,” Slade said. He leaned closer to Tony and repeated the word slowly, emphasizing the x. “Explain.”
Tony leaned in, much like Slade, and in the same tone said, “Fuck you,” overenunciating the k.
The girls snorted.
“Now that the grammar lesson’s over, would you like to explain the game?” Tony sat down on the floor next to Francesca. Too close—his arm brushed hers every time he moved.
“The rules are easy. Someone says something they’ve never done. For example, I’ve never gone skydiving. Then whoever’s done it—skydiving, in this example—would have to drink a shot. If no one drinks, that means no one else has done it either, and the person who made the statement has to drink the shot. Understand?” Jessica said.
“So how do you win?” Tony asked.
“Whoever is least fucked up wins,” Francesca said.
“You certainly have a way with words, cariño.” Tony gently nudged Francesca with his shoulder, and she rolled her eyes. “These drinking games are complicated,” he added. “In Miami we just drink. You gringos can be weird.”
“Just drinking? How boring,” Jessica said.
“Not boring. There’s usually dancing too.” He looked over at Francesca and winked before saying, “Which usually leads to lots of other fun stuff.” Francesca again rolled her eyes and scooted away, but he moved right along with her.
“What’s cariño mean?” Violet asked Tony.
Tony took a swig of his drink, “Means ‘sweetheart,’ ‘dear’…you know, just a term of endearment.”
“Awww.” Violet, Chrissy, and Jessica all swooned at the same time. Francesca shook her head, annoyed yet somewhat amused.
“Anyway, let’s hope we’re passed out drunk before the hurricane comes in full force,” Jessica said.
“You okay?” Slade looked at his girlfriend with worry in his eyes.
“I’m kind of freaking out right now.” There was a crease between her brows. “I hate hurricanes. This is only the second one I’ve ever been in.”
“Oh, babe.” Slade lifted Jessica and put her on his lap. “C’mere.”
“It’s no big deal, Jess. This house is safe. We have all the guys here. No worries, okay?” Violet reassured her.
“Yeah, okay,” Jessica said, but her concern was still visible.
“You women need to man up. It’s just a hurricane. Nothing we all haven’t gone through before. Living in Florida, it happens,” Tony said. “Buuuut,” he went on, dragging out the word, “I’m available to comfort any female who might need comforting.” He opened his arms with a toothy grin.
Francesca smacked Tony’s shoulder.
“I’ll admit I’m kind of scared too,” Chrissy said.
“I’m not.” Francesca turned to look at Tony. “Not every female needs comforting. I’m perfectly fine, so relax, tolo,” she said, and took a sip of her drink.
“Tolo?” Jack asked.
“Fool,” Francesca clarified. “In Portuguese.”
“You better stop with the Portuguese insults, sweetheart, or I will start doing the same in Spanish and you’re not going to like it,” Tony warned.
“Oh, I’m so scared,” she said with a laugh.
“You should be,” Tony said in a serious yet devilish tone that actually made Francesca nervous.
“Anyway, so…who’s going to start?” Slade asked.
“I’m out,” Cain said.
Everyone booed and threw bunched-up napkins at
him. “You’re no fun,” Chrissy pouted.
“He used to be,” Violet added, looking Cain square in the eye before returning her gaze to her drink.
“Okay, I’ll start.” Chrissy sat up. “I’ve never seen snow.”
Slade, Jack, Tony, and Jessica took shots. “Really?” Slade looked at his sister. “You’ve been traveling around the world for the last decade and you’ve never seen snow?”
“Nope. Most disasters don’t happen in cold places. Apparently neither does war. I guess destruction likes heat.” She shrugged and refilled the cups.
There was some distant thunder, causing Jessica to jump and all the dogs to start barking. Chrissy and Jack got up to quiet them while Violet went to the kitchen and brought back a tray full of cookies. Slade muttered his distaste for the dogs under his breath as he comforted Jessica.
“Okay, okay. My turn,” Jessica said once everyone settled back down. “I’ve never been in a fight. Well, not on purpose,” she added as Slade cringed, probably remembering the hell they’d been in a few months back with Jessica’s violent ex-boyfriend.
“Good one,” Jack said, and everyone took a shot.
“You?” Tony turned to Francesca.
“She’s a—” Slade began, but Francesca cut him off.
“Oh, nothing exciting. I grew up at WtF with my dad.” That was all she said by way of explanation, and she quickly changed the subject. “My turn.” Francesca refilled the cups, and before saying a word she handed them to the three men. “I’ve never kissed a girl.”
Everyone laughed and the three men tipped their cups back, but surprisingly Jessica reached for a cup and downed one herself.
“Babe?” Slade asked.
“College.” She shrugged. “It was just a peck.”
“Hot,” Tony said, and Slade punched his shoulder.
“It is,” Slade whispered to Jessica, but in a not-so-whispering voice.
“My turn,” Tony said. “I’ve never gone cow tipping.”
There was five seconds of silence before everyone in the room burst out in a roar of laughter. No one picked up their cups.
Below the Belt Page 7