She couldn’t help it. “The incredible amount of women tiptoeing in and out of my guesthouse all day and night, my god. Where do you even find all of them?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t!” She took a moment when her voice became shrill. “I just don’t like the idea of a bunch of strange women you find on the street being around my daughter.”
“I don’t find them on the street—”
“So Tinder, then. Much better.”
“And I would never bring them around Blue. They come and go through the backyard door. Which I’m sure you already know since apparently, you’ve been spying on me 24/7.”
“I’m not spying. My bedroom is right above the driveway. Am I not supposed to hear them starting their cars at 3 a.m.?”
“And when you were watching me… Through the window?”
She held her breath.
“Was that not spying either?”
“I wanted to bring you breakfast. Believe me, it was a mistake—one I won’t make twice.”
He smirked.
Her eyes bulged at the sight, narrowly resisting the urge to slap it right off his face. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you?”
He was looking at her like he’d seen her naked, which was curious since it was actually the other way around. What Stella didn’t understand was why it felt like he had.
Her heartbeat quickened. It got harder every day to stop her mind from traveling the road she’d been trying to forget since the moment she’d seen him. All of him. How he was bigger than she remembered when she’d once accidentally walked in on him naked when they were kids. Bigger—thicker—than Troy even, who’d always been the largest she’d ever had. How he didn’t just have the size but also knew how to use it. The way so few men did.
The palms of her hands grew slick on the glass as her gaze fell to his lips.
His eyes fell to hers too, then shifted to her cheeks. Her nose. Her hair. His eyelids grew heavy as they lingered on her lips once more, then slowly rose back up to hers.
“Okay!” the pawnshop owner emerged from the back, the beads clattering in his wake as he re-approached the counter.
Rocco tore his eyes from Stella with a heavy breath and stood tall, facing him.
The owner took his time counting out the bills in sections on the counter before stacking them into one pile and handing it to Rocco.
“It’s all there, huh?” Rocco asked.
“All there!” The owner beamed, holding out his hands with a jolly smile. “What a pleasure, folks. Hey, come back and see us anytime! Hope to see you again real soon!”
“Oh, you will see me again real soon because I’m coming back for my bag,” Stella said as Rocco walked away, re-counting the money. She jammed her finger into her chest. “That’s my Birkin. And I’ll tell you what else I know. I know it’d better still be here when I get back—”
Rocco reached out, grabbed her arm, and snatched her away from the register, cutting her words off and dragging her to the door of the shop with all curious eyes on them.
“Beautiful couple!” The owner pointed after them with a smile.
Stella and Rocco froze in the doorway and faced him in horror, shaking their heads and talking over each other.
“No, I’m not with him—”
“We’re not together—”
“It’s a no from me—”
“Not ever—”
“In fact, it’s a hell no—”
“I’d cut my own arm off and sell it to you first—”
The owner nodded, spluttering as he attempted to get a word out in the midst of their impassioned rebuttals, which continued until his smile had fallen completely and the look on his face bordered on uncomfortable. Even so, Stella and Rocco carried on with their fervent denials, silenced only by the door of the pawnshop slamming closed behind them when they finally made it out the door and onto the sidewalk outside.
11
Blue’s gurgles floated down the upstairs hallway and lured Stella in like a crackhead that needed a hit, the way it always did after a long day of painful interviews.
With a newly empty closet, Stella had been left with the bare minimum for clothing options. The basic black pencil skirt and black blazer were more boring than she was used to, but still did the trick for a woman who’d been going to job interviews every day for several weeks. Her heart tightened, due to the memory of her empty closet and also of how many interviews she’d been on with no follow-up.
She tried to push the thoughts from her mind as she stepped into the bathroom that was connected to Blue’s nursery, unable to help a small smile at the sight of Rocco rearing away from the tub as Blue splashed buckets of water up at him from where she kicked and giggled from the baby bath inside. He kept his fingers on her shampoo-soaked head even as he reared away from the splashes that were soaking his white t-shirt and gray sweats. The setting sun filtering into the small window above the tub gleamed across his hair, several black wisps having fallen into his eyes.
“Want me to take over?” Stella asked, setting her purse on the bathroom counter.
He looked over his shoulder at her, eyes running her body. “Nah. We’re almost done.”
“Thanks for giving her a bath. I didn’t realize they’d call me back for a second interview just a few hours after the first, but I’m hoping it’s a good sign.”
He grumbled a response.
“God, it’s hot as hell out there. Are we absolutely sure it’s fall?” She popped open her blazer and peeled it off her sweaty arms, showcasing the silky teal camisole underneath. The area under her breasts was soaked with sweat, darkening the fabric.
She sighed as she laid the blazer across the counter, half of it falling into the sink.
Rocco’s gaze fell to the sweat stains under her bust and lingered, fingers frozen on Blue’s head once more. He didn’t even try to avoid her splashes anymore, even when some of them hit him square in the face.
Stella looked down, saw the stains, and crossed her arms. “Hey, listen … DJ’s having a big birthday bash at Charlie’s tonight. Girl’s night out. She got a table and a couple of bottles. I was wondering—”
“No.” He turned back to Blue.
“Can you at least let me finish?”
“I’ve heard enough, and the answer is no. You still don’t have a job, and you have got a daughter that needs you. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that your days of shopping, partying, and living it up like you’re still single in the sorority house are long gone.”
“My interview today actually went really well, Rocco.”
“Yeah, they’ve been ‘going really well’ for the last two months and yet, somehow, still no job.”
“It’d be nice if you had a little faith in me and didn’t jinx it before we even know if it’s a yes or no.”
Rocco pulled Blue out of the tub, letting her soaking body drip all over him, and kissed both her cheeks. “If I handed you your own daughter right now, she’d burst into tears the second she was in your arms. That’s not normal. You need to focus a little less on partying and a little more on why your little girl loves me so much more than she loves you.”
“She does not love you more than me, you’re delusional.”
Rocco continued spattering kisses all over Blue’s face, driven by her beaming smile as she reveled in the love and attention.
“Tell her, Blue.” He spoke between kisses. “Tell. Her. How. Much. More. You. Love. Me.” He kissed her smiling lips over and over. “Tell her that I’m the only reason you have warm water to take a bath, lights to watch your favorite cartoons, and milk to put in your belly—”
Blue retched before Rocco could finish, a white stream of vomit flying from her mouth just as he was planting another kiss on her lips. The shock of the spit-up hitting his face like a tsunami caused Rocco’s mouth to fall open instinctively, filling his mouth with Blue’s milky bile when her stomach heav
ed a second time, sending another fresh torrent shooting from her lips.
Stella burst into laughter, collapsing against the sink, her stomach tightening to the point of pain. But watching the horror that crossed Rocco’s face as heaved and retched made it worth the pain, his cheeks expanding to the size of balloons. The grin on Blue’s lips—still gleaming with vomit—as his face went from milky white to green in mere seconds was bright enough to light up a Christmas tree.
Every bone in Stella’s body clenched so tight with her laughter she worried she might split in half, continuing to give the countertop all her weight. But her smile vanished when Rocco shot up to his feet and raced across the bathroom with Blue in his arms, his eyes wide.
Her eyes widened too, the sight of his lips pressed tightly together and his stomach heaving wiping the smile clear off her face. Realizing what was happening, her horrified gaze shifted down to the blazer she’d slung across the sink.
“No!” she cried, reaching for her blazer just as Rocco bent over the sink. “It’s Tom Ford—”
Rocco emptied his stomach before she could finish.
She screamed at the top of her lungs as his bile splattered all over her jacket, and when she felt the spew hitting her forearm as well, still clinging to her blazer in her failed attempt to save it, her stomach instantly tightened too. But this time, not from laughter. The sight of sickness that she knew for a fact was much thicker than the watery kind Blue usually produced—proving Rocco had added a little of his own special sauce to the mix—caused her to heave, but she managed to swallow it back. Then she retched again, this time violently enough to send a thickness racing up her own throat.
She clapped a hand over her own mouth, the hand that was now covered with Rocco’s regurgitation, transferring the moisture to her lips and face. The vile scent filled her nose and overran her body, sending her barreling past Rocco and Blue to the toilet next to the sink, where she collapsed to her knees. She bent over the toilet and got sick inside the bowl, feeling like her stomach lining was coming unglued from her body.
She didn’t know how long she stayed bent over that toilet or Rocco over the sink, but soon the bathroom was filled with nothing but their violet, heaving gasps. Blue’s delighted giggles filtered in sporadically, still naked and squirming happily from where she hung backward from Rocco’s forearm, appearing quite pleased with herself and the mess she’d made.
Stella cut a look up at her wiggling daughter, whose blue eyes shone down at her as she buried both her tiny fists into her wide-open, smiling mouth.
“Oh my god,” Stella breathed, clawing the toiler. “First you sell all my clothes, then you throw up all over the one good blazer I have left—” She went silent when her stomach gurgled, warning that another explosion might be on the horizon.
Rocco, still bent over the sink, didn’t even respond as Stella crawled from the toilet to the bathtub and turned on the faucet, running her forearm under the gushing water to clean it off her skin. Once she’d rinsed her arms, she filled her cupped hands with water and slurped it up, gurgling.
The sink’s faucet churned to life behind her a moment later, where Rocco began cleaning up as well. Hearing him gargling behind her, she snatched a decorative towel down from the holder overhead to wipe her face, and he did the same with the hand towel hanging next to the sink. It wasn’t until they’d both washed away most of the upchuck from their skin and clothes that they turned toward one another. Stella glared up at him from the floor next to the tub and Rocco cringed down at her from the sink.
His mouth was the first to twitch, the tiniest upward lift of his lips. Stella’s lips jerked a moment later. She pressed them together to fight it, but it was no use, and a chuckle bubbled out, which drew a cackle from Rocco. Soon, they’d both fallen into a deep belly laughter that lit both their faces up with smiles brighter than they’d ever dared direct at each other. Leaving them bent over in hysterics this time, instead of violent nausea.
In the midst of his laughter, Rocco made his way to the tub and offered Stella his hand. She took it and let him pull her to her feet.
“This is your fault,” she accused, face still lit up with a grin. “All you do is talk shit. ‘That’s why Blue loves me more’. God don’t like ugly, you know. He made my baby girl throw up in your mouth as punishment. If you don’t start being nicer to me who knows what he’ll do… next…” Her eyes shifted to the sink when the screen of her phone lit up, followed by the singsong ringtone filling the bathroom. “Oh my god, it’s the spa…”
His wide eyes flew to the phone as well. “The one who called you back for a second interview today?”
“Yeah, they told me I’d hear back in a couple of days, not less than an hour!”
“Must be really good news then.”
“Yeah, or really bad news.” She snatched up the phone and slammed it to her ear, arm still gleaming with the water from the faucet. “Hello? Yes, this is Stella Armstrong.” She looked up at Rocco with wide eyes as the voice on the other end of the line spoke.
He raised his eyebrows, adjusting Blue from where he was still cradling her butt against his side.
“Yes, yes… yeah…” Stella nodded rapidly, a lump moving down her throat. “Okay, thank you…”
His expectant eyes followed her as she hung up the phone and set it back down on the counter, holding his free arm out in question.
Stella paused for a long moment, held her breath, and then jumped nearly a foot in the air. “I got the job!”
His face collapsed. “You got it?”
“I got it, Rocco, I got it! I start in two days!”
“Holy shit.” He opened his free arm to her and laughed when she launched at him and circled her arms around his neck.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, their breathy laughter so ripe with relief and delight it made their sealed bodies tremble.
“Everything’s gonna be okay now,” she whispered into his shoulder, smiling wide as happy tears stung her eyes. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”
She pulled away, cupping Rocco’s shoulders. She searched his eyes for a moment before her gaze shifted to Blue, leaning over and kissing the top of Blue’s head.
Rocco kissed it too, in the same place Stella had, before re-claiming her eyes. He went to remove his arm from around her waist, but his hand couldn’t finish the job, settling at the small of her back instead, just above the soft swell of her ass.
Stella’s eyes fluttered up and locked to his, short of breath as he ran the tips of his fingers up the curve of her back until they were searing a path across her shoulder blade. Down her arm. Around her elbow. Then up again. Stroking her skin as their excited breathing from the good news they’d received slowed to a crawl.
Her hands slid down from his shoulders and moved over his arms, her touch never leaving his body completely before settling at his biceps. They flexed, harder than a baseball under the caress of her trembling fingers.
The rivets of his short nails made the tiny hairs on her arm stand tall as he glided them up and down her skin, sending sharp prickles charging across her aching body. She licked her lips and gripped his biceps, not even realizing she’d come up to her toes until he tilted his head down in return as if they both had the same string tied around their necks and it was growing a tighter every second. Drawing them closer, even as it worked to steal the air from their lungs, one precious wisp at a time, making their every breath come in a gasp that was shorter and sharper than the last.
She swallowed thickly, digging her nails into the backs of his arms, her mouth falling open when he lowered his head even deeper. Enough for the tip of his nose to tenderly brush hers. Her trembling hands moved across his chest, fingers splayed wide. Stroking every inch of him they could until she reached his pecs, which met her touch like chiseled stone draped under the soft cotton of his shirt. She couldn’t tell if it was his hammering heart pounding against her sweaty palms or her own throbbing pulse sending hot blood gushing through her vei
ns and warming every inch of her body.
She gasped when he wrapped his free arm around her waist once more, so entranced at the hardness of his chest she hadn’t even noticed he’d moved, and pulled her in, bringing her to the very tips of her toes and sealing her chest to his. She slid a hand around his waist too and drew her touch up his back, her clammy fingers clinging to his t-shirt as they dragged the fabric upward, clearing the way for her other hand to lay against the warm skin just below his belly button.
He hissed and clenched his teeth as her fingers lingered on his sensitive skin, mere inches above where he surely yearned for it them most.
And then his hardness was against her stomach. Longer, thicker, and more insistent by the second. Her nostrils expanded as she moved her fingers languidly up, stroking every ridge and valley of his chiseled abs as her hand traveled under the hem of his shirt and disappeared from sight. Every dip and curve of his stomach she caressed made his skin flex and flush red with heat. Tensing and relaxing under her fingers, over and over. Swelling with just as much fervor as every inch of her body seemed to be pulsing at that moment. She forged a slow, searing trail up his eight-pack abs before the tips of her nails were sinking into his heaving skin once more, as if trying to claw her way inside.
He sucked in a soft breath when her nails nipped at his back as well, sinking into the deep line at his spine. He angled his nose next to hers, nuzzling it.
She watched his black eyelashes flutter shut, and his brows pinch tight, even as he bent his neck to get closer. She saw his jaw clench and roll, even as his arm tightened around her waist. She saw his features go taut, then soften, like a frozen stick of butter melting in the blazing sun.
He opened his eyes and met hers, his breathing slowing to a stop.
She held her breath too, searching his gaze, using her grip on his back to hold her steady when her knees began to shake.
Taking in a breath, he bent his neck toward her, and she lifted parted mouth in return, her own eyes fluttering closed this time.
Forbidden (War Book 1) Page 11