by Dana Delamar
He peeled them off, tossing the nearly translucent cloth to the floor. He’d wanted to tear them off, but he didn’t want to remind her of Vincenzo. He loved her, and he was going to show her how much. He ran his hands down the insides of her thighs in teasing strokes, inching toward his goal. Then he fanned one hand over her sex, massaging it lightly, his fingers caressing the lips of it, then slipping between them to the wetness inside. When he touched her, she drew in a breath, and he looked up into her eyes, waiting for her to smile again before he continued.
As his thumb slowly circled her clit, Kate closed her eyes and bit her lip to keep from crying out, to keep from telling him she wanted more, more, more. But he knew by now what she liked.
She felt him shift forward onto his knees and then his mouth was between her legs. She gasped at the contact and closed her legs a bit. It was too much, this pleasure. Enrico planted a hand on the inside of each thigh and pressed them open, giving him full access to her. As his tongue moved on her pussy, she flushed all over, heat rising in her face, her chest. This was madness. And heaven. What a shameless, wanton hussy she was, raising her hips to meet his mouth, then pulling his head closer to her. He slipped two fingers inside her, moving them in and out in rhythm with his tongue, his fingers sliding easily in her slick wetness. She came suddenly, the explosion of sensation surprising her into a throaty cry.
He planted a kiss just above the mound of her sex, then stood and pulled off his shirt, the muscles in his arms, chest, and stomach flexing in the most appealing way as he grinned at her. Then he kicked off his shoes and started removing his pants. She lay slumped against the back of the couch, her legs splayed open, a bit dazed, enjoying the tanned, well-muscled body he revealed to her, until he said, “You are wearing entirely too much.”
Kate smiled and rose, skinning off the dress and unhooking the bra. As she stepped out of her heels, he sat down on the coffee table and pulled her to him, his face level with her breasts. He suckled them again, his hands cupping her ass as she ran her hands through his thick black hair. Then he sat her down on his knees. She reached between their legs, circling her fingers around him, giving his cock an experimental stroke. She loved the heft of it, a little longer and thicker than she could easily take, but she was ready for him. He groaned when her fingers traced the vein that ran along the underside of his cock, then he cupped his hands behind her buttocks and urged her forward. She held his eyes as she guided him into her. “Madonna,” he whispered as she opened to him.
“‘Whore’ is probably more appropriate,” she teased.
He stopped moving and took hold of her chin so that she had to look at him. “Never say that again. I never want to hear that word applied to you, do you hear me?” His intensity surprised her. What was that about? He kissed her, then let go of her chin. His lips trailed down to her neck as he started thrusting inside her. “Not my woman, not my wife,” he murmured, and her eyes popped open. Wife? She looked at him, wondering if he’d confused her with Antonella. His eyes were closed, and he seemed lost in the sensation of their lovemaking. Which, considering how good it felt, was no surprise.
She filed that comment away for later and wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him in deeper. He responded by moving faster, his hands tilting her pelvis up a bit more, his fingers pressing into her buttocks as he forced her to open wider. His breathing was ragged in her ear, and she bit down on his shoulder as she came again. He groaned and his strokes sped up, his hands moving to her hips so he could lift her up and down, so he could make his thrusts more forceful. Thank God he’d stopped treating her like a china doll.
Remembering the sweet torture she could inflict on him, she clamped her internal muscles around him hard several times in succession. He stiffened and cried out. After he caught his breath, he kissed her again. Then he pulled back so he could look at her, a grin on his face. “I cannot hold off when you do that.”
His brown eyes seemed almost black as they scanned her face. She reached up and traced his brows, then his cheekbones. “Thank you for this,” she whispered.
“I should be thanking you.” His grin widened. “At least we are not apologizing to each other anymore.”
She looked at him for a moment more, wanting to ask about what he’d said earlier, but not sure how, or if she should. She stood up, but he pulled her back down onto his lap. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What did you mean when you said, ‘Not my wife’?”
Color rose to his cheeks. “That was… a mistake. I want you to be my wife, but….” His voice trailed off.
Did he just say he wanted to marry her? “But what?”
He pulled her closer. “I do not know how to say this.”
Kate’s heart sped up. She wasn’t going to like this. “Just say it,” she whispered, placing her head on his chest.
His voice was low and unsteady. “Part of the agreement with Carlo is that I have to marry his granddaughter, Delfina.”
Her body went cold, then numb. Oh God. So that was what he and Dom had been discussing when she’d spied on them that first night. She wished she’d trusted in her Italian. She was a fool.
“Kate, look at me.” He nudged her chin up, and when she opened her eyes, she was horrified to see her vision blurred with tears. “I am so sorry. I want to marry you, not her. But I have to keep you safe.”
She sniffed hard, trying to hold back her tears. “It’s okay.” But it wasn’t.
“No, it is not. Not now, not when I know you have feelings for me.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. You’re still in love with your wife anyway. It’s not like there’s room for anyone else.”
“That is not true.”
“It is, Enrico. You still can’t take off your ring, can you?”
Enrico raised his left hand and looked at his wedding band. Madonna. Until he’d seen Dario, he hadn’t thought much about Toni the last few days. He’d been so focused on Kate, on what had been happening with Carlo, that he’d almost forgotten his grief. “I can do it now.” He pulled off the ring and set it on the table. His hand felt strange, lighter, without it. Strange, but all right. He looked at Kate. “I want to be with you. I want to be your husband.”
Kate shoved back from him and retreated to the sofa. “You have a funny way of showing it. You’re marrying someone else!”
“I will not marry her. I do not love her.”
“You should marry her.”
“What?” He could barely form the word, he was so confused.
Her eyes blazed. “You might as well. Marriage is just a business deal to you. How can you possibly make love to me right after getting engaged to another woman? You’re using that poor girl like a bargaining chip. What is wrong with you?”
“I will not do it.”
“So you’re going to let Carlo kill us both then? Over what: your heart?”
Enrico stared at her openmouthed, appalled, his gut twisting. “Does this not matter to you?”
“Of course it does!” Her eyes filled with tears.
“I do not understand you. First you do not want me to marry her, then you do.”
“I don’t understand you. How can you be so cavalier about this? Who you marry should matter to you.”
“It does. And I want it to be you.” How could he make her understand? Delfina meant nothing; Kate meant everything.
Kate stared at him, her chest tight. “You don’t know what love is.” He may have removed the ring, but it didn’t mean anything. He still loved Antonella. He had to. It was the only palatable explanation for how he was acting. There was no room for her in his heart as long as Antonella still filled it.
She looked away from him, wiping her eyes. “I want to go home.”
“You cannot leave. You do not have a passport.”
“You were going to figure that out earlier today. You said I could leave if I wanted to.”
“I have changed my mind.”
Kate clenched her hands into
fists. Bastard. “You can’t do that.”
“I can and I will. You will wait until Fuente clears you. And in the meantime, we are going to Capri, as planned.”
“No.”
He leaned forward and put his hands on her shoulders. “I cannot let you go. Not just yet.”
The rawness, the almost pleading note, in his voice made her soften. “Are you going to marry her?”
“No.” He held her gaze. “I want you.”
His behavior didn’t add up. Unless…. She frowned, her stomach contracting into a ball. “So if you married her, you were planning what? To make me your mistress?”
His eyes slid away from hers. “Something like that. If you would agree to it.”
A wave of heat blasted through her. Who did he think she was? “And have Carlo Andretti call me a whore at every opportunity? No thanks.”
He touched her cheek, and she slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Cara—”
“Don’t call me that either.”
He took a deep breath. “I am not going to marry her. I made a mistake in ever agreeing to it. I thought it was the right thing to do, that it would bring peace.” He paused. “And I was not sure of your heart.” He took one of her hands in both of his. “Will you please allow me to make amends to you?”
There was a certain logic to what he said; she might be wrong about how he felt. There might be hope after all. “I’ll go to Capri. But I’m not promising anything.”
He smiled, his relief evident. “I will make it up to you. You will see how much I love you.”
When she processed what he said, a barrage of emotions rocketed through her. “You love me?”
“Of course I love you, Kate. Why else would I want to marry you?” He seemed puzzled by her reaction.
She smirked, not wanting to let him know how shaken she was. “Well, it certainly isn’t to save your neck, now is it?”
“That is unfair.”
“It’s the truth. It’s the reason you married Antonella, and it’s the reason you were going to marry Delfina.” He said nothing. “Fair enough?”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
Enrico watched Kate dress. Her back was turned to him, and he wasn’t sure where he stood with her. She’d whipsawed back and forth so many times in the space of a few minutes. He’d told her he loved her, and her reaction had been anger. Anger to cover her hurt. Hurt he had caused with his bumbling. Why hadn’t he told her sooner? Why hadn’t he told her about Delfina before they’d made love?
Had he ruined everything between them, just when it seemed he’d finally won her?
At least she was going to Capri with him. At least she was giving him a chance. Though the odds were more against him now than they’d ever been.
And he still hadn’t told her who he was.
He desperately needed to talk to Don Battista.
For the first time in his life, he felt truly lost.
CHAPTER 19
After he returned home from the summit with Carlo and Dario, Dom called Carlo.
“Do you think he suspects?” Carlo asked.
“I don’t think he trusts you, but I doubt he has any idea what we’re planning.”
“Your cousin doesn’t have the head for this role. He never did.”
Dom found himself automatically defending Rico. “Just because I think he’s being a fool over this woman, that doesn’t mean I think he hasn’t done well for the cosca. I may have my quarrels with my capo, but he has more brains for business than either of us, Don Andretti.”
“Are you worried about wearing the crown, Domenico?”
“I’ve been ready for this all my life.”
Carlo laughed. “Wanting to be the alpha dog and actually being it are two very different things. Your cousin has balls, I’ll give him that. You, I’m not so sure about.”
“The nail that sticks out gets hammered back in.”
“Said by men of no courage.”
Dom bit back his irritation. “If I fight him openly, the cosca will plunge into chaos. But if he dies, I will be able to step in without spilling another drop of blood.” He paused. “Of course, it would be to your benefit if that doesn’t happen.”
“You are learning, my boy. I am content to let you have his place, as long as you abide by our agreement.”
Dom’s skin erupted in flames. “I’ll give you what you asked for: the discount and the American. But that does not make you my master.”
“We will see about that.”
Dom wondered. “Did your men forget it was me wearing the white shirt tonight? Some of those bullets were awfully close.”
Carlo chuckled. “They did exactly as I asked.”
“Play any more tricks like that, and I will have to rethink this.”
“And do what? I have you by the balls. Don’t think I haven’t recorded every word you’ve said.”
Ice slid down Dom’s spine. There was no turning back.
He hung up. He’d known he was making a deal with the devil. Now he hoped the only price he’d pay for it was his soul.
It would all be over in three or four days. He was glad Rico was taking a vacation, glad Rico thought things were repaired between them. At least his cousin would die happy.
It was more than he expected for himself. He could only hope his children’s lives would be better because of what he’d done. With any luck, he’d save the cosca, save their future.
But he couldn’t save himself. That damage was already done.
He was killing his own blood; there’d be no mercy for him in the afterlife.
Tears pricked his eyes. No mercy was exactly what he deserved.
Kate woke with a start, her heart a jackhammer in her chest. Her first instinct, which she didn’t question, was to leap out of bed. Which is when she heard a voice that shouldn’t have been there. “Kate?” Enrico mumbled.
She stood there panting, her eyes taking in as much of the room as she could in the dim light of early morning. She was in Enrico’s room. Not with Vince. Never with Vince again. Yet why did he still haunt her dreams?
Maybe it had been a mistake to come back in here. The room had been cleaned up, and new carpeting covered the floor. But still she could smell the blood. Except this time it was Enrico’s, not Vince’s.
“Cara?” Enrico sat up in bed and scrubbed his eyes with his hand. “Did you hear something?” His eyes flicked up to the newly installed panic button. He opened the nightstand drawer and withdrew his Glock. “Kate?”
She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her breathing, then she walked over to him and put her hand out, directing the muzzle toward the floor. “It’s nothing. You don’t need that.”
“What woke you? You leapt out of bed as if the hounds of hell were snapping at your heels.”
She hugged herself, and he set the gun on the nightstand, then stood up and tried to take her in his arms. She flinched away from him. “Talk to me. Per favore.”
That Italian “please,” along with the worry in Enrico’s voice, grounded her. “I was dreaming. It was so real.”
“Do you mind if we talk about this in bed, where it is warm?”
Kate nodded and let him steer her back to the bed. He got in beside her and pulled the covers over them where they lay face to face. She reached over and traced the high, broad bone of his cheek, double-checking that he was real. When she started to withdraw her hand, he trapped it in his, then pressed his lips to her palm before letting go. “Tell me about this dream.”
“It was so real in every detail. Not like most dreams.” She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them, shaking her head. “Vince had broken in and he was raping me. Carlo was there too, waiting for his turn. You were dead. They’d killed you.” Tears slid down her cheeks and she wiped them away. “When is this going to stop?” Why couldn’t she just be normal again?
Enrico’s chest tightened. Her voice was so thick with tears he could hardly understand her. He reached out to
her, his fingers skimming along her skin as he pushed her hair out of her face. “Cara,” he whispered, “it will stop. But it will take time.”
“As long as Carlo is out there, I’ll never feel safe.”
“He promised he would not harm you.”
“That was when you were going to marry Delfina. Have you told him yet?”
“I will ask Dom to tell him after we leave. It will give him time to calm down before we return.”
“He’s going to want us both dead.”
“I will think of something.”
She sighed. “I hope so. I don’t want to die over this.”
Enrico didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Over me, you mean.”
“No. I don’t want to die because I killed his nephew in self-defense. And because I’m the reason you don’t want to marry his granddaughter.”
Enrico relaxed, feeling sheepish. “Oh. I thought—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Don’t think I’ve forgiven you just yet. I’m not sure how I feel. But I don’t want you walking around with false ideas about me in your head.”
It was not at all what he wanted to hear, but at least she wasn’t furious with him anymore. After their argument in the study, he’d been surprised when she’d come to his bed in the middle of the night, but he hadn’t asked for an explanation. He’d just been grateful, even though she’d stiffened when he’d reached for her, even though she’d said, “I don’t want to be alone right now, that’s all.” He had hoped things would be different in the morning, but at least they weren’t worse. He wished he’d understood then why she’d come to him. “Have you been having nightmares since the attack?”
She nodded. “It’s gotten worse since I ran out of Valium.”
“So that is why you came to me last night.” She rolled over, hiding her face from him. He touched her shoulder, then pulled her close. “There is no shame in needing someone.” Why did she always fight her need for him?