He parked behind Sal’s restaurant. Another place she wanted to revisit. So many memories. She would have time now.
With his hand on her lower back, he guided her to the top floor. Threads of heat formed a pattern toward her heart. He snapped on a light near the front door. A long hall opened to a living room, a smallish kitchen to one side, and another hall that probably led to bedrooms.
Joey flipped on another light in the living room. “Want some coffee or tea?”
“Do you have chamomile tea?” It had been the comfort drink of choice throughout her life.
“Think so.” He strode into the kitchen.
“Want help?” She walked in. The kitchen wasn’t so small after all. A banquette filled one corner, a fridge across from it. Ample counters surrounded the double sink and a stove gleamed from another shorter row of counters. The wood cabinets blended with the mellow tones of the granite counter tops.
“Are you this neat or do you not cook?”
“Both.” He shrugged. “I miss some kitchen clutter. It shows someone lives here. You’ve seen my parents’ house.”
She made an affirmative noise. His parents…Sophia had been almost unfriendly earlier, and during dinner had scrutinized her with a very critical look. Ariella had recalled Sophia’s distance after her family died, but she hadn’t expected it to still be present, a haze like the fog that sometimes wrapped the peaks of the nearby hills and buildings.
He filled a tea kettle and set it on a burner. “Want honey in it?” He took down a couple of mugs and a box of tea.
“If you have it.”
He glanced in the cabinet and placed a jar of honey on the counter.
“Guess you don’t need any help.”
“Need you here.” He stepped to her and caressed her cheek.
She leaned into his touch. Tilting her face up, he kissed her, his lips tender, a question in the gentle exploration. Placing her hands on his chest, she fingered his shirt, searched for his heartbeat. His breathing expanded his sculpted chest under her touch.
The tornado of desire, comfort, fear, excitement, giddiness, and shame kicked up dust in her heart and mind. She pushed gently at him, pulling away from their kiss.
The tea kettle whistled. His brow furrowed. He stepped to the stove. While he made the tea, she steadied her breathing, trying to pick up the debris of thoughts and reorder them into something coherent, and to find again the threads of heat she’d felt.
He handed her a mug. She blew on the surface as they walked into the living room. Joey set his mug on the coffee table and she did the same. They settled into the sofa, its blue fabric cushions cradling her. He turned to her, angling his body close.
“Was it something I did?” he asked.
She recognized his tone, one that wondered, not just about the present, but about the mistakes of the past. “No.” She shook her head to emphasize her words. “Not before, not now. You’re a good man. I … You’ve always been my friend.” She fingered his hand. “It was my fault. You were just there to comfort me, and I…I didn’t do it on purpose, but I feel like I seduced you.” Brent and Luis had both repeatedly accused her of enticing them into sex, until she hadn’t known what was true. Even Mamá and Papa had warned her she was too sexy, and to be more demure. Now, she knew she hadn’t done anything like that on purpose, but she also knew sometimes her actions were seductive, when she was in the freedom of the moment with a man—especially with Joe. With him, she wanted to own her sexuality, the pleasure of it, the closeness it provided. She didn’t want him to feel responsible for their past mistakes when she had wanted him too.
Joey raised his eyebrows, his expression somewhere between surprise and scoffing. “I see you’re not kidding. But that’s… Ariella, I wanted you from the moment you walked into school that first day, wanted you every moment more and more as I got to know you—your kindness, your smarts, your quiet strength.”
“I never knew.” He’d treated her like he treated all his friends, with concern, friendliness, and tolerance, minus the guy banter and ribbing.
“By the time I realized how much I liked you, you were dating Brent.” His shoulders tensed. “I thought he was a friend. I don’t make moves on friends’ girls.”
She nodded. “Still, it wasn’t only you that night we spent together. I wanted you too.” She still did. But he knew that. She’d said it earlier. But sex didn’t make a relationship. Even sex as great as it was with Joe. And, for her needs, and Layla’s, she wanted a relationship.
“Why did you run? We were all here to support you.” No more cop voice now. His tone was full of concern, gentle inquiry.
“I was ashamed. I was with Brent when my family died. They wouldn’t have approved. I knew I was making choices against what they’d taught me, but I thought I loved him, and somehow that made it okay. I was wrong in so many ways.”
“You were a teenager.” He fingered her hair. “We all make mistakes.”
“Not you, Joe. You’ve been yourself, always. Still are. I admire you.”
He dropped his hand. “I’ve made mistakes too. Like not finding you. Run now and I won’t make that mistake again.”
She grasped his hand and squeezed. “I’m done running. I’m home.”
He kissed her again, quick and soft.
She was home, and it was time to give Joey the answers he wanted.
Chapter Nine
Joey pulled back, his gaze on Ariella again. Her lips, still plump from their kiss, caused his head to tingle, and not just the one with his so-called brain.
“I want to tell you…” she said in a hushed voice. “Will you listen?”
“Have I ever not?” He tweaked her ear.
“Okay, silly question. You always were the guy people came to with their problems, if they wanted them to stay a secret.”
She hadn’t come to him. He closed his eyes, trying to close out the past. He looked at her again. “I’m here.”
She nodded and turned her hand in his. “I’m guessing you figured out what kind of guy Brent was?”
“Yeah, and I…I’m not proud of this, but I showed him what happens to men who disrespect women the way he did you.” His neck flamed and his hands tensed at the memory of pounding on Brent, rage clouding his vision. He was lucky they’d been in the alley behind D’Angelo’s Market. It had taken Uncle Max, Uncle Frank, and Dad to pull him off Brent. And Uncle Max to pull some strings so Joey didn’t get arrested. And then, later, he’d told a few of Brent’s secrets to people who would exact a different price than Joey had. It had been a dark time, a time he’d prayed over, something he’d had to dig his way out of. Ariella, or his feelings for her, could make him a man he didn’t want to be.
She caressed his hands. “You?” She shook her head. “I never meant to cause you pain.”
“You didn’t cause it. It was my choice. He bragged about… Well, I couldn’t stomach what he’d done.” He knew part of what Ariella might tell him, but he wanted her to say the words.
“I feel that way about some of my choices,” she said, her voice choked with tears. She let out a shaky breath.
“You’d just lost your family. Losing people we love can lead us to make bad choices.”
“I found out I was pregnant a few weeks after they’d died. I got an abortion.” She scanned his face. He rubbed her hand. “You knew?”
“Brent told me. He laughed about it.” He wouldn’t tell her the names Brent had called her, the crap that’d spewed out of that asshole’s mouth. He wasn’t laughing after Joey’d finished with him. He clenched his jaw.
“I know your family’s beliefs—”
“And yours too. I don’t blame you. You made the best choice you could then, right?”
She nodded. “It’s been hard to live with. Still is. Soon after, I worked at Vincenzo Calabra’s strip club. Less than a month, but it was enough time to make me feel even worse about myself.”
Joey ground his teeth together. “Did Lorenzo know?”
He looked down for a moment, to refocus, to cool his temper so he could remember the details that anger had smoked out of focus. “Right.” Glancing at her again, her stricken expression dampened his smoldering feelings.
“I realized I was making so many wrong choices. I had to get away, start new. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t face everyone.”
“No one would have blamed you.” He touched her knee.
“Wouldn’t they? I’ve blamed myself. And I was fooled again. My ex, Luis, was another Brent, except he was a better liar—and he wanted to marry me. I didn’t see fully who he really was until after Layla was born. Then I had to start again.”
“You’re a brave woman. You faced everything and made a great life for you and Layla.”
“I didn’t do it alone. Kind strangers, friends, my faith, the memories of my family, and my dreams, and Layla, of course, all kept me going.”
“No one does things alone. Don’t downplay yourself. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. He caressed it away.
She took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I needed to hear that, to see you mean it.”
“I mean it. Your ex is lucky he’s dead.” His jaw ached he’d tightened it so much. Anyone who hurt Ariella—he didn’t like the rage that gripped him when he thought of what those men had put her through.
“Joey, that’s not you. I don’t want the past to come between us, or interfere with the present.”
“Agreed. That’s all?”
She glanced away. “Yes.”
“How’d Grandpop know so much about you, when no one seemed to know… Seemed like you’d disappeared.”
“Why don’t you ask him?”
“I did. You know Grandpop.”
“Yes. He’s a good man. Like you are.” She smiled briefly and met his gaze. “If he kept my secrets, it’s because I asked him to. Please don’t blame him. I don’t want any more hurt.”
“So he knew why you left?”
“Part of it. I asked him not to tell anyone. He disagreed, but he respected my decision. You’re like him that way.” She held his hands. “Let’s leave it now.”
He wasn’t done with this, not when Grandpop had held back information, maybe given him false information. But Ariella was right, now wasn’t the time.
“I’m glad you told me.” He slid closer.
“Me too. Another new step?”
“A whole new dance.” He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head as she snuggled into him. Her scent, tropical and light, rumba’d through him, leaving him energized and excited. What would it be like to have her here every day… Way too soon, for both of them. It’d taken him years to pursue his career as a cop… Just like he’d known for years Ariella was the woman he wanted. But things—family duty, doubt—got in his way. He got in his own way.
He shifted. With a caress of his leg, she moved with him. He was ready to hit the floor. Her hair brushed his hand. He twined the long, wavy strands around his fingers. She tilted her face toward his, her lips parted, waiting for him to lead.
Bending to her, he touched his lips to hers, the first move. Then he progressed their kiss, tilting, pushing, bringing close and easing back, the ever-increasing steps of a Latin dance.
This needed a new venue. He lifted her with him. Wrapping her legs around him, she followed his lead. He supported her, cupping her ass with his hands. He quick-stepped to the bedroom, dizzy from the dance, from her. He only wanted one partner—Ariella.
Chapter Ten
She slid off Joe, her feet touching the floor in his bedroom. The cold wood floor was a stark contrast to the flaming heat in her body, and his. He accepted her, all of her. Through her touch, she could show him that she accepted him too, and what his acceptance meant to her.
They kissed, their caresses peeling off layers of clothing, until they were both naked. The body heat they generated made her skin prickle, as if she’d been sunbathing.
“Querido,” she whispered between kisses. Their kisses, their movements, a sensual, swirling dance, dizzied her.
He sidestepped to his nightstand, opening a drawer. A packet crinkled. He slid on a condom. Cupping her cheeks in his strong hands, he gazed at her. She met his look then kissed him. He deepened their embrace, easing her onto the bed.
From her throat, through her chest, stomach, hips, legs, into her heels, each bit of her relaxed. She sank into the soft covers as Joe’s hard body covered hers. Sliding her hands over his chest and down, she grasped his shaft, guiding him into her. She let go as he took over, creating a steady pace in time to their own special rhythm.
Their movements synced, two dancers completely in tune with each other. He kissed the insides of her wrists. She trembled at the tender intimacy of his touch and wrapped her arms and legs around him again, to bring him as close as possible.
He kissed his way down her collarbone, making his way to her right breast. He laved her nipple, which pebbled from his attention. She arched herself into him, shimmying in excitement. His warm mouth took her other nipple. She gripped his biceps as she reached the dizzying edge, that moment during a salsa twirl. He would catch her. He nibbled her nipple lightly and sped his pace. She ran her hands down his back. He held her as she panted and moaned, her climax crescendoing then easing. He slowed his pace again, watching her.
She grinned. “You’ve got some moves.”
He paused. “Takes the right partner.”
“Finish the dance?”
“Big finish.” He winked.
She tilted her hips to meet his renewed thrusts, rocking into him. They spun together, speeding to the heights.
“Joe, oh…” She climaxed again.
He huffed out a breath at his release. When he embraced her, she moaned again at the friction between their slick bodies. Slowly, he eased out of her and, after disposing of the protection, settled next to her. She snuggled into his chest, curving closer to him as he fingered her hair and shoulder blades.
“How long can you stay?” he asked.
She glanced over him, looking for a clock. The red numbers on a digital clock told her she’d already been gone almost two hours.
“Not much longer.”
His chest tensed. “When you’re ready, I’ll drive you back.”
She wished she could stay longer, sleep in his arms. But she also wanted to get back to Layla, make sure she was sleeping well. Her dreams were clear, but the realities were complicated. She couldn’t see how they were going to get from where they were to what she wanted—a family. Still, five minutes feeling Joe’s body supporting hers, his hot skin, their breathing rising and falling in time, was more than the black and white world she’d been in. Since returning here, home, her vision was full Technicolor.
She’d left her phone in the other room. A spark of panic fizzed through her. She hopped up. “I left my cell in the living room. Marcella might’ve called.”
“Meet you out there,” he said in an even tone as she shrugged on her clothes while she hopped toward the hall.
Her hurrying had been for nothing. No messages.
Joe came up behind her and touched her shoulders. “Next time, I’ll bring your phone in. I understand why you want it nearby.”
She leaned into him, releasing the brief tension. “Next time” were beautiful words. “Thanks.”
He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck, leaving a sweet trail of heat. “Better get you back,” he said in a low voice.
She nodded and forced herself to step away from him. Grasping her hand, he led her out and down to his car. The night air had become sharper, the sky darker and fewer neighborhood lights shifted the view. She shivered. Joe turned the heater up full blast. The warm air wasn’t needed—all she had to do was change her thoughts to Joe and the memory of him inside her, his sizzling touch, his tender look and gestures. All she had to do was glance
at his strong profile, touch his taut bicep, and she was plenty warm.
He pulled into Grandpop’s, punched the gate code, and parked. “Want me to walk you up?”
“Better not.” She might be tempted to ask him to stay in the room next to hers. That wouldn’t be right. “Will you be coming to Enzo’s tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but I can’t stay long. Have a shift at work.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “See you soon.”
He nodded. “I’ll be working the next several days. Don’t want you to think I’m avoiding you.” His grin, boyish and sweet, contrasted with his intent gaze.
“Good to know.” She smiled at him, then with slow movements, slid from the car. She didn’t want to leave his side. But she needed to see Layla. She jogged in, stopping to wave at a still-waiting Joe before she entered the house.
She rushed through the dimly lit kitchen and took the stairs at a sprint. As she approached the door to her room, she slowed to ease her breathing.
Opening the door with a soft push, her smile returned on seeing Layla still sleeping, her little face peeking out from the poofy comforter and pillows. Marcella glanced up from her knitting, but her knitting needles flashed on.
“Everything okay?” Ariella asked.
Marcella nodded. “She sleeps like a little angel. Anytime, I’m happy to sit with her.”
“Thank you.” She walked to the bed, kissed Layla’s forehead then squeezed Marcella’s hand as she rose. She’d already gathered her knitting in her bag.
“You’re staying, yes?” Marcella paused on her bustling way to the door.
“Yes. I’m home. We’re home.”
“Good. We’re all glad.” Marcella nodded and left the room.
Ariella got ready for bed and slid in beside Layla. This was home. She could finally, almost, show Layla what home was really like.
Dare (San Francisco Brides Book 3) Page 7