Damn rookie. Every last one of them had something to prove.
Dante stroked his chin in thoughtful concentration. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he returned his focus to her. “We have friends coming for dinner, love. Perhaps you should go on upstairs. I’ll join you in a moment.”
“Sure,” she said reluctantly, but she didn’t leave them. She walked to the other side of the foyer and shifted through a stack of magazines located on a fabric-covered bench.
“Billy, make yourself at home,” Dante said. “I’ll have Mrs. Walker, our housekeeper, serve your dinner out by the pool.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Billy seemed perplexed. He was anything but overjoyed by the opportunity to dine alone.
“My associates don’t like unannounced guests joining us last minute. I know you’re family—”
“Believe me, I’d rather hang by the pool,” Billy quickly interrupted him.
“Excellent,” Dante said, motioning for Mrs. Walker who joined them as if she’d been summoned.
“Sir? Do we have an overnight guest?” She deliberately avoided eye contact with Brooklyn. The housekeeper had seemingly liked her when she had been married to Martino, but since his death, she’d treated her with indifference. Her highhanded attitude matched her holier-than-thou morals. Mrs. Walker was very judgmental, and quite gossipy. She always kept a phone to her ear and often engaged in hour-long conversations with various acquaintances.
“Yes. Why don’t you show Brooklyn’s cousin to his room?”
“On the opposite end of the house, Sir?” she asked, shooting Brooklyn a coy and quite bizarre sideways glance.
“No.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Walker drawled nervously, reaching for a bag. “Very well then.”
Brooklyn felt her nostrils flare. She slowly lifted her head and studied Dante.
“I’d like for Billy to occupy the room next to mine if that’s all right with the lady of the house.”
Mrs. Walker frowned, certainly wise to the fact that she wasn’t the lady in question.
Brooklyn opened her mouth to object, but Dante placed his index finger over his lips. At the same time, Mrs. Walker greeted Billy with a formal introduction. The maid’s voice faded out as she considered why Dante wanted Billy nearby, practically sleeping on top of them.
“What are you up to?” she asked, whispering as he slid his arm behind her back and guided her upstairs.
“You’ll see, darling,” he replied, caressing her bottom.
Noticing her purse on the credenza next to the front door, she pointed. “Let me grab my bag. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Dante kissed her cheek. Nuzzling her ear, he whispered, “Don’t make me wait. It’s been almost a week.”
Dante disappeared upstairs. Mrs. Walker grabbed Billy’s luggage and rushed by her, careful not to look her way as they passed on the stairs.
Once the housekeeper was out of earshot, Brooklyn snapped, “He’s on to you Billy. You’d better tread softly.”
“And what makes you think that?”
“No one sleeps in the room next to ours.”
“Ours is it?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Old Braxton would be devastated. He was under the impression that—”
“I don’t care what Braxton told you or what he thought,” she rasped. “And yes I sleep in Dante’s room.” She turned her head sharply, her hair falling over her shoulders with the sudden sweep. “And no babe, I don’t sleep on the sofa.”
“Well then you’d better not keep Mr. Mancini waiting, sweet thing. A whole week without pussy must put a fellow like Dante in a hell of a mood.”
“You’re striking matches at a well lit fire, Billy,” she told him, letting the pussy comment slide. “The only thing Dante and his men play behind the closed doors of his study are the players. Dante couldn’t care less about cards.”
“Maybe you don’t know the man in your bed as well as you think. He must be a pretty serious poker player if he’s thinking about attending the World Series.”
“World Series, hell,” she grumbled. “He’s not playing poker in Vegas. His only interest right now is playing you. Right here. Tonight!”
“I’m good at cards, Brooklyn.”
“Let’s hope so,” she fired back.
“Ah, how sweet. You’re worried about me.”
Brooklyn stepped closer, careful to keep mere inches between them. “Dante put you in the room beside ours. Want to know why?”
“I can guess,” he replied, grinning.
“I don’t think you can.”
He licked his bottom lip and immediately dragged the pad of his thumb over the moist texture. “Wanna bet?”
“Don’t be a gambler when you don’t know what’s at stake,” she warned him. “Dante may ask you to join us.”
“I figured as much,” he said, confident in speech, but pale enough to prove he was anything but prepared to face the night ahead. “What kind of lewd conduct happens around these parts? The man thinks I’m your cousin.”
“Right.” Dante never believed that for a minute.
“Well thanks but no thanks. I saw how he looked at you. Any man who’d join the two of you in the bedroom would have a death wish.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Unable or unwilling to comprehend, he continued, “Besides, if Dante had to compete with me in the bedroom, he’d quickly understand why younger men have more to offer a woman underneath the sheets.”
“And what’s that exactly?” No longer taunting the rookie, Brooklyn was suddenly interested. She’d always dated men who were at least ten years her senior, but she’d maintained a real interest in younger men, a curiosity that had temporarily died when she’d fallen in love with Dante. Now she wondered why her lust for the young hadn’t remained buried. Why was she willing to take a minute and play with fire when she had all the heat she needed with Dante?
“Stamina, honey. It’s worth its weight in a man’s pants,” he assured her.
“Oh I don’t know about all that, Billy. There’s a lot to be said about the lovemaking between a man and woman hopelessly devoted to one another.”
“Brooklyn!” Dante appeared at the top of the stairs. Leaning over the banister, he said, “I’d like a little alone time, doll.”
Stunned to hear his voice, she backed away from Billy, hoping Dante hadn’t read anything into the scene they must have caused.
“Coming!”
“Now, baby.”
“Duty calls,” she said playfully, snatching her purse.
“Duty is probably the only reason a woman like you goes to bed with a man like Dante Mancini,” Billy said, apparently brave. Had he failed to notice Dante still lingering on the landing above them?
“I love him,” she snapped the second Dante disappeared, apparently in pursuit of his bedroom.
“You love the protection he gives you. That’s what you love about him,” Billy said following her upstairs.
“Nothing could be further from the truth,” she said, pressing ahead of him by taking the steps two at a time.
Billy rushed her. Grabbing her wrist, he demanded answers, “Then why don’t you enlighten me sometime because I happen to know that whatever lust it is that you think you feel for him can’t possibly match what you’ve begun to feel for me as well.”
Shocked, she yanked her arm free. “Feel for you? Why you are nothing more than a boy if you think I could possibly have feelings for you in such a short amount of time.”
“And you’re a foolish woman if you don’t admit you’re attracted to me. Hell, even your sugar daddy can see it. Don’t you think?”
“You’re supposed to be my cousin,” she bit out.
“But I’m not.”
After a silent exchange of piercing gazes, she finally looked away, cursing the woman living within and questioning why she felt compelled to choose him for this assignment. Had she wanted to test herself? Had sh
e suspected the instant attraction was one she wanted to further explore?
“He may make you feel safe now, but only people like us—those who are well trained and taught to survive—can truly protect, Brooklyn.”
She tried to escape, but Billy’s parting words stung her eardrums. His brutal observations cut straight to the bone.
What if Billy was right? What if the real appeal found in the Mancini family had always been the safety net they’d provided? And what if the only reason she found Billy remotely attractive was because of what he represented, too?
Glancing at him once more before disappearing around the curve of the hallway, she saw a man, not a boy with whom she could toy. It was then and there that she decided. Billy represented her insurance policy.
If she couldn’t protect Dante and Ariela, then she’d find a way to convince Billy to pull those strings he had tucked away in his pocket, regardless of who stood on the other end of them.
Chapter Four
“He’s a cop,” Dante said, studying her intently as soon as she entered the master suite. “You brought a cop to my house.”
She sighed dramatically as she loosened her macramé belt. She could play the Mancini game, pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about, but facts were hard to ignore. Billy fit the Mancini pawn MO. It never would’ve occurred to her, but Dante showed his cards first.
Somehow, Billy had secured a job on the kind of team rookies were seldom asked to join. The top level of security he had been given must’ve been manipulated worse than insider trading.
She’d meant to stroke this thing another way, wait until Dante had a real hard-on pumping with suspicions. She had hoped to keep Dante in the dark for a while longer, but like always, he had been one step ahead of everyone else.
She unbuttoned her blouse and shifted her upper body to the right. Clutching the bedpost, she removed one high-heel shoe then the other.
“When did you plan to tell me?”
She tilted her head and smiled, determined to keep him guessing for another minute or two. She’d already been there and done that with one Mancini. She refused to repeat history over and over again. Dante needed to learn his lessons the first time around.
She’d earned his trust. She deserved it.
“I want some answers,” Dante said, rushing from the bed. Clasping his hand around her wrist, he yanked her against his chest. “Did you know he was a cop?”
He kept a firm grip, one designed to demonstrate his determination. Oh yes, he doubted her. The pain was in his eyes, the tension set firmly in his chiseled cheeks.
“Is he on your payroll, Dante?” she rasped, turning this discussion around in a second flat. She rubbed her tongue across the texture of her mouth, moistening her lips as she stared at his.
Damn if she didn’t love playing rough.
“You knew from the beginning?” he asked, staring at her parted lips.
No, she didn’t, but why not let him think as much? Keeping a Mancini man guessing had long since been her forte.
“I thought we didn’t keep secrets from one another, Dante,” she whispered, dragging her lips across his. “But I’m willing to forgive and forget.”
A masculine growl fell from his lips as he jerked her forward. Her chest immediately pressed against his. Shoving his hands under her skirt, he hiked up her leg, forcing her knee to bend. He held her by her right calf as he ground against her.
This was the reason why she couldn’t resist him. His sexuality and insatiable appetite for sex made her crazy. Coupled with striking good looks even his brother couldn’t match, Dante was a man’s man and a woman’s most exquisite and cherished sex toy.
“I’ve put my faith in you, Brooklyn.” He kissed her neck and chest, working his hands behind her hips.
She rode his cock, growing more and more sexually frustrated as the clothing separating them kept temporary barriers in place. Trusting him to keep her balanced, she dropped her hands to his waist and loosened his leather belt.
Fiddling with his zipper, she stuffed her hand inside his pants as soon as the material parted. She greedily grabbed his cock, yanking his length until he moaned.
“Right like that, baby,” he said, lifting his head and gazing into her eyes.
She gave him a few harder tugs. His head fell behind his shoulders. A cascade of charcoal curls fell in waves. “Ah fuck, Brooklyn. There, sweetness. Oh yes, right there.”
Her grip changed as the moisture slipped from his cockhead. Slowing down the deliberate pulls, she whispered, “Tell me, Dante. Do we keep secrets from one another?”
He looked at her then through hooded eyes, now a darker shade of midnight blue. A ragged breath slipped from his lungs as his lips crashed against hers, his tongue on a desperate tour of her mouth.
Brooklyn gripped the back of his head, drawing him closer. Their kiss was hot and passionate, driven by insatiable need, wanton desires Brooklyn hadn’t felt with another, not even her husband.
She grabbed hold of his waist and forced finely tailored clothing away from his hips. In a split second, his pants were balled around his ankles.
With little effort, Dante bunched her skirt around her middle. Thrusting inside her mouth with a forceful tongue, Dante hissed. “This is crazy. You’re like a drug to me.” He held his head away from hers. They locked in a knowing gaze. Surely trust still existed between them. They’d come too far to doubt one another now regardless of the worlds they’d each previously represented. “Tell me, Brooklyn.”
“You tell me,” she said, nipping at his bottom lip.
He grabbed a handful of hair and held her at the base of her head. His nostrils flared. He appeared too concerned for her liking. Perhaps he was unsure of her loyalty, something she couldn’t risk for a moment longer.
“What do you think, Dante?” she bit out, defying the tears welling up in her eyes. “Do you really think so little of me that you believe I could betray you?”
Dante stilled in her arms. He gripped her skirt closer to her body as if he were struggling with the possibilities. Would the way things seemed trump what they’d shared, what they’d built over time?
“Oh, Dante,” she cried, wondering if she could survive without his trust.
“I know you, Brooklyn,” he said suddenly. Then, without a moment to spare, he jerked her forward, bracketing her legs around his waist as she draped her arms over his broad shoulders. “You’re all that I know, all that is real to me.”
He took three steps, maybe four. The bedroom wall was against her back. His large hands cupped her bottom.
She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently Dante had already heard enough. He grabbed her calf again, forcing her knee higher as he parted her legs and sank in between her folds. “Oh God, I’ve missed you.”
Splaying her fingers, she ran the digits through his thick mess of curls, knotting some of the locks as she pulled his hair. “I’m right here, Dante. I’ll never go anywhere.”
As if her words were taken as a promise, he thrust inside her harder. Fucking her like a man who’d gone without sex for far too long, he limited her mobility by barricading her against the wall. His hard cock delivered stiff shots as he screwed himself tighter inside her, claiming her pussy as if he were afraid he’d never have another opportunity.
Each time he retreated, he quickly returned again sinking deeper, thrusting higher. His cock set a rhythm right as he found that special little spot. In tune with her body, he fucked like he’d earned a rightful prize.
“Dante!” she screamed out in pleasure, riding out her first orgasm so quickly that her second climax took her by surprise.
“Ah, baby,” he moaned, locking his mouth over hers. His tongue swirled around hers, dueling for control.
Their mouths soon parted and opened. Each of them moaned in satisfaction as one body fed from the other.
Their fucking became a cross between pleasure and pain. He pounded inside her channel, torturing her with hard and long stroke
s. He entered, retreated, sank between her thighs again, and then withdrew altogether once more.
“Oh God, Dante,” she whispered, turning her cheek and giving him complete access to her neck and chest.
He pinched her nipple through the lace bra, devouring her neck with his moist kisses. Her arousal peaked. She clawed at his arms, digging into his flesh as she held onto his muscular arms, riding his cock.
She’d heard of such loving. She’d been told of similar unions. Her entire body was lifted up by their passion. A hotness swept across her arms and legs, rushing down her spine. Tingling from head to toe, she shivered in his arms as if she were on the verge of a full body orgasm.
“Come for me again, sweetness,” he rasped, hammering inside her with an unsteady beat. At the same time, he curved his arm behind her hips and slammed her against him, dragging her body against his and choosing which maneuver served him best.
Staring down at the point of penetration, he locked his bottom lip under his top teeth. His cock impaled and controlled her. She wasn’t just lost in their lovemaking. She’d forfeited another piece of her heart and soul.
“Yes,” she whimpered, her pussy clenching with excitement, dripping with desire. “Yes, Dante. Oh God, yes.”
Her body undulated. Her head rolled to the side. Heavy lids fluttered over her eyes. Harsh spasms left her jerking violently in his arms.
“Oh God, Dante. It’s so good. Too good.”
“That’s my girl,” he crooned, forcing one arm high above her head and holding her there with his hand clasped around hers.
When he withdrew this time, he lingered at her entrance, his cock barely tucked between her folds. The swell of his pulsing head at her entrance told advance tales of their forthcoming finale.
Then, the look in his eyes gave everything away. The concern was intense, but it only lasted for a fleeting moment.
“Fuck it,” he growled. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
She felt a smile tug at her lips as he sank between her folds once more. A new realm of understanding existed in their passion as he drove inside her like a man in love, a man in need, a male force totally aware of the consequences of playing without protection.
A Debt Owed-A Promise Made Page 4