The Fabrizio Bride
Page 17
“At the time your father died, I was pregnant. I didn’t find out until a few months later. Tony’s been my little angel ever since. Your father’s last gift to me.”
Raising his eyes, Rafe stared at her. “I have a brother?”
“Yes. Antonio Duncan Fabrizio Robertson. He’s with my mother in Seattle right now.”
Rafe looked back down at the picture. His hand trembled. “May I keep this?”
She nodded. He stepped toward the car, then turned abruptly and kissed Marianne on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The drive back was quiet, and when they hit the main road, Rafe turned south along the coast. Sarika thought about everything Marianne had said as the car ate up the miles. About duty versus love and which category she fell into with Rafe. About Rafe’s mother holding on so long to a dead marriage. About all the people hurt because of past mistakes.
Someday Rafe might find a love like Marianne and Antonio had shared. A woman who was ‘everything to him’.
And would Sarika be willing to let him go, so he could know real happiness?
“Rafe.”
It took him a moment to answer. “Yes?”
“I…I know that you care about me, and in your own way you probably love me the way your father loved your mother, and you want to do what you think is right…”
The car slowed as he glanced at her. “What are you talking about?”
“About, well…you saw firsthand the damage that happens when you marry someone because you have to rather than because you want to, because you truly love someone the way your father loved Marianne. I don’t want to be that person, your mother, watching you fall in love with someone else. Or you staying tied to me out of duty.”
“Sarika, what the hell—”
“No, listen. I trust that you’ll be here for me, always. I know that, now. But what if it’s not for the best? Your circumstances have changed since you know more about Marianne and your father, and I won’t hold it against you. I know your intentions were good when you married me, but I don’t want to force you into a relationship that will only make you unhappy in the long run.”
He cursed a blue streak under his breath and abruptly swung the car onto a road that took them down to an empty beach. After parking, he stalked around to her side and pulled her from her seat.
“Rafe, what—”
“Not another word, Sarika, I swear.”
He led her across the sand toward the water. The sun glinted off the waves and the breeze ruffled her skirt.
Spinning back, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Hard.
Then again.
“I will never be in my father’s position because I married the woman who means everything to me. The woman who drives me crazy, makes me laugh, and turns me on like no other woman ever could. The woman I love more than life itself. That’s what you have to trust and believe in. My love for you.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I wish I had my damn thesaurus, so I could tell you in a million different ways how I feel. I ‘Adore’ you, Sarika. I am ‘Blessed’ to have you. I ‘Cherish’ every single inch of you. ‘Desperately’, ‘Everlastingly’, ‘Forevermore’.”
She laughed as he went through the alphabet, happy tears streaming down her face. “You don’t need a thesaurus, you’re doing wonderfully on your own.”
“That’s because I spent hours reading that damn book, trying to figure out everything you churned up inside of me. All the crazy, chaotic emotions I couldn’t control – that I wanted so badly to control, so I wouldn’t become like my dad. Or who I thought he was. But I see now that I was wrong.”
He trailed his fingers down her cheeks, wiping her tears. “I’ve been in love with you since you were seventeen and way too young for me, but I was just too scared, too stupid… whatever…to accept it, and I made you doubt me and yourself. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I thought love made a man weak, but without you, I am nothing. You, Princess, are my everything. Please, say that you’ll stay with me. That you’ll build a life with me and strengthen me every day with your smile and your presence. Say that you’ll love me forever.”
“I will, Rafe. I do. Always.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. God, she loved him. Trusted him.
“Thank God, because I really had run out of words.”
She laughed and rubbed her nose against his. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a mini thesaurus, so you can keep it with you and always know how you feel.”
He kissed her. “That’s easy. I only need one word for that, and it’ll never change. Love.”
Epilogue
Sarika had just finished her thirtieth lap in the pool that overlooked Big Bear Lake when a familiar wave of heat rushed over her skin and started her heart pounding. Only one person on the planet made her feel that way, and she spun in the water toward the luxurious mountain-side chalet that had been in her family for over fifty years.
She couldn’t see her husband, but she knew he was there. Every nerve ending in her body fizzled to excited life and her lungs couldn’t get enough air into them.
“Rafe?” she called out.
He appeared at the door to the chalet, a smile crinkling his face, and she lost her breath all over again. Cascading joy tumbled through her. He was gorgeous, her husband, even barefoot and dressed in bright blue swim trunks.
“Hello, Princess,” he said, sauntering down the marble steps toward the pool.
She swam toward him and lifted her arms so he could pull her out. He did – gently. Everything he did with her lately was gentle. She would never have been able to finish her thirty laps if he’d been here to see her.
He reached for her towel and patted over her arms, then the twin globes of her breasts which were bursting from her red bikini top. He kissed each one, making her shiver, before stroking over her rounded belly. “And how’s my other little Princess?” he asked, nuzzling her tummy.
“She enjoyed the swim. Kicked almost as hard as I did.”
“You didn’t do too much, did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, daddy-to-be, I did not do too much.”
A holler sounded behind them, and Sarika turned just in time to see a miniature Rafe run across the patio and do a cannon ball into the pool. Water splashed over them, making Sarika laugh and rub her swollen body against her husband. “I guess you’ll just have to towel me down again.”
“Mmm, that can be arranged.”
Tony surfaced with all the energy of a ten year old. Marianne shook her head while Ana Lisa applauded. Both on loungers outside the wet zone.
“Did you see me, Nonna?” he asked excitedly. “How high did I go this time?”
“Very high, mio nipote.”
“Tony, do not do that again,” Marianne reprimanded him. “You soaked Sarika and your brother.”
Tony grinned at Rafe, who grinned back. “I’ll join you in a moment, buddy, and create such a big splash it’ll soak both your Nonna and your mother.”
Whooping with excitement, Tony swam for the side and hauled himself out just so he could jump back in. Rafe tugged Sarika farther away, watching his little brother with a smile.
She leaned into her husband, who had made such emotional strides over the last ten months – sharing everything with her and welcoming Marianne and Tony into the family.
“Happy?” she asked.
He shifted his gaze to her, eyes filling with love. “Yes.” He kissed the tip of her nose “Zealously so.”
It was an odd word, and then it twigged, making her laugh. “Is that my ‘Z’ word?”
“See, you are paying attention.”
She sighed and leaned against him, so blissful she felt she might float away. Then the baby kicked, and she remembered she was as big as a house. Much too heavy to fly. “What are you going to do now that you’ve reached the end of the alphabet?”
He cupped her face and leaned his forehead on hers. “I’
ll start again at the beginning. ‘Ardent’. ‘Awe-inspiring’. ‘Adore’.”
“You’ve already used adore.”
His hands slipped down to cup her other cheeks. “Then how about ‘All mine’.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I can live with that. As long as you’re all mine, too.”
“Affirmative, Princess.”
###
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Alyson McLayne
About Alyson McLayne
Alyson is a stay-at-home mom of twin four-year olds, a writer of novels and screenplays, a dog lover, a cat servant, and a certified chocoholic on a diet. She's also a finalist in the 2016 Golden Heart Awards for her paranormal romance "WØLFF: Rise Of The Valdyr" and is currently working on her 'off-the-cuff' acceptance speech,
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Sizzling Sexy, Santa Barbara Series
Book One: The Fabrizio Bride
Book Two: The D'amici Mistake (Coming April 5, 2016. Available now on pre-order at select retailers)
Book Three: The Berrucci Rules (Coming July 5, 2016. Available now on pre-order at select retailers)
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Preview of the next exciting story for the Sizzling, Sexy, Santa Barbara Series by Alyson McLayne
THE D'AMICI MISTAKE
By Alyson McLayne
Coming April 5, 2016. Available now for pre-order at select retailers.
“Ah, hell.”
Santo D’amici stared down at the used, torn condom dangling from his fingertips, and resisted the urge to turn the sweetly scented air blue. He failed.
“Motherfucking, fuckity-fuck.” Planting his other hand against the bathroom wall, he breathed deeply to ease the knot in his stomach.
What were the chances Elena was pregnant after just one mistake?
Not very likely, thank God. They were in no position to have a child – yet.
As usual, they’d been wild in their lovemaking. Maybe a little rough. It was easy to imagine a fingernail snagging the latex she’d slid over him before he’d thrust home, both of them groaning in relief as they’d found a pounding rhythm. A rhythm that had pushed him right through the protective layer.
With another curse, he tossed the condom into the trash can beside the marble tub, then looked at the closed, wooden door that led to his room. On the other side, Elena lay sleeping in his bed.
Finally.
He’d worked long and hard to get her there – she preferred making love anywhere but the intimacy of a bedroom, afraid it might lead to something more permanent. If she found out he’d possibly impregnated her, she’d panic and run. He knew it.
With a frown, he walked naked across the heated marble, flipped off the light, and quietly opened the door.
She lay on his bed in a shaft of moonlight that shone through the balcony doors, covered by a midnight blue quilt. He studied her as he walked across the rug. Her lush mouth, usually so quick with a droll response, had softened in slumber, and her hand curled childlike beneath a rounded cheek. So sweet, so vulnerable.
So unlike Elena.
He realized he’d never seen her sleeping during the five months they’d been together – ever since she’d snuck into his room at Rafe and Sarika’s wedding, and he’d sent her packing. His resolve hadn’t lasted. The next evening all it had taken was one seductive glance as she’d swayed past on those ridiculously high heels, and he’d been hooked.
Not that he’d known it then. It was just supposed to be a one night stand before he resumed his search for the perfect wife. Someone who didn’t sneak into men’s bedrooms wearing silk and lace negligees and have a flippant reply for everything. Someone who wasn’t afraid to show him who she really was and how she really felt. Someone who wouldn’t insist on keeping their quasi-relationship casual.
A woman who wanted to sleep in his bed – all night long.
Damn. He should have walked away months ago.
A lock of thick, brown hair highlighted with artfully placed blonde streaks fell across her forehead as she rolled onto her back. The cover shifted revealing the tops of her breasts, and his body stirred.
Instant desire. It was always like that. A need that never waned.
He loved her shape, petite yet full through the hips and breasts. He loved her pert nose and flashing hazel eyes. He even loved her sassy tongue, especially when it did the things to his body that she’d done tonight.
In. His. Bed.
He brushed the hair from her brow then trailed his fingers down her cheek, his olive-toned skin in contrast to her lighter shade. Her eyelids fluttered, and he found himself holding his breath as he waited to see her eyes. When they opened, she stared up at him with sleepy languor.
“Mr. D’amici,” she greeted him huskily.
The familiar welcome made him smile, and he sank onto the edge of the bed, his unease fading as passion sparked to life.
“Ms. Berrucci,” he replied, a surge of possessiveness crashing through him.
Why bother spooking her with a phantom pregnancy? If it turned out the unlikely had happened, and she carried his child, he’d deal with it later. It’s not like they could fix it now, anyway. An abortion was out of the question.
Tangling his hands in her hair, he kissed her. She held him close, arms squeezing his neck.
When they parted, she asked, “Are we still in Santa Barbara?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You said earlier you were taking me to Heaven. This doesn’t look like Heaven.”
He smiled and nuzzled his way down her throat. “Does it feel like Heaven?”
“Possibly.” Her hands stroked his neck and over his spine. “But seeing as I’ve never been there, you’ll have to keep doing what you’re doing until I’m absolutely certain.”
“And how long will that take?”
She paused to look at the clock on the nightstand. “About another hour. Then I really have to go.”
Stubbornness flared within him. He slipped under the quilt and stretched his naked length beside her. Her thighs spread immediately, welcoming him. She lifted one knee around his hip and snuggled closer. He kissed her, then gazed into her eyes. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay the night. I promise to wake you slowly in the morning.”
Elena smiled, but he felt her tense against him. “No sleepovers, remember? I’m not that kind of girl.”
“The kind that makes love in a bed rather than the car, the beach, or the pool table? You agreed to be exclusive, remember? That means you are that kind of girl.”
“And you agreed to be casual. Sleepovers and breakfast in bed the next morning are not casual.”
He dropped his forehead to hers, trying to sound relaxed, when all he wanted to do was tie her to him and never let go. “We have it good, Elena. This relationship—”
“We don’t have a relationship, Santo. We have sex. Great sex.”
“It’s more than that, and you know it. We’ve known each other since we were kids. We’ve spent hours in each other’s company, talking and laughing, as well as doing this.” He ran his hand up her body and stroked her breast.
She gasped and arched into his palm. “You don’t play fair.”
“I play to win.”
For a split second, the guardedness in her eyes fell away, and the uncertainty he saw within shook him.
He pulled her close, arms locked around her body. “You are to me.”
For a minute, he thought she might relent, then she pushed against his chest and turned over, intent on crawling out the other side of the bed. The fighter in him sprang to life, and he moved quickly, pinning her spine to his chest and pushing a hard thigh between her legs from behind.
“Let me go,” she gasped.
“No. We’re not done.” He drew her earlobe into his mouth, making her moan as he sucked on it. His hold on her loosened so he could knead her breasts, before sliding one hand down her body. He played with her curls and the nub beneath until she rocked against his muscled leg.
“Santo.” With a shudder, she lifted her arms behind her head to sink her fingers into his hair.
Her core was hot and slick against him. He reached for a pillow and dragged it down the bed, then rolled her forward, so her hips lay across it, pushing her rounded backside upward. He moved over her from behind, spreading her legs so he lay between them.
It was a dominant position, one that forced her complete surrender, and he knew she had a love/hate relationship with it. But it was what he needed right now. What she needed, too. It showed her she could be vulnerable with him and still be okay. Reaching for a condom he sheathed himself then lay heavily over her and nudged her entrance. Her breath came in hard gasps – anticipation making her tremble. She arched her back, pressing her hips upward. It was all he could do not to drive inside.
“Now,” she demanded, her voice ragged.
He fought to regulate his breathing and bring himself under control. “What will you give me for it, Kitten?”
He pushed forward an inch. She quivered beneath him.