by Maggie Marr
“You don’t have to—”
Her gaze locked to his. Determination tightened her muscles. Most days, determination was the only thing that stood between this new life she was attempting to build and a needle in her arm. Other days, she fell to her knees to stay sober. “But I do. I do have to apologize to you, to anyone that I’ve wronged. It’s not so altruistic, Anthony. It’s pretty damned selfish, actually. Maybe not as selfish as sticking a needle in my arm and shooting my entire life up my veins, but still, these apologies are for me, for my program, so I can stay sober.”
“Glad to know it’s all about your own self-interest.”
Shelly felt a pang at Anthony’s reaction, feeling their moment of connection slipping away. Damn, why did she get so fired up all the time? Rush to that place of defense and anger instead of opening her heart to vulnerability?
Because vulnerability hurt. Fucking crushed your heart and stomped your soul when whomever you cared for left, or died, or turned their back on you.
Like she’d done to Anthony.
“First,” she said, her words slow. She fought to keep her gaze on Anthony. “First, I’m sorry for Texas.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry for trying to take your wallet, I’m sorry for lying and telling you I’d go to rehab, and I’m really sorry for disappearing. I thought…” Her chest tightened, and she looked down at the yellowed linoleum kitchen floor. What had she thought? For a brief while, when he’d been with her in Texas and they’d been sharing memories of Vinnie, deep in that grief together, she’d thought about actually doing what Anthony wanted. She’d go to rehab, get clean, come home and rebuild their life. “I thought about going with you”—her gaze met Anthony’s, but his eyes gave away no emotion—“and the good part of me, the part that was still the Shelly you knew and loved wanted to go, I swear. But the pull, the drugs, it was just too much.”
Anthony’s sharp nod acknowledged what she said.
She turned away from him, toward the door that led out to the back yard. Through the window set in the upper half she could see the wind blowing the snow that continued to fall into giant drifts. “But most of all, I’m sorry for leaving.” She crossed her arms now, not to protect herself from the cold of the frozen windowpane separating her from the winter night, but to protect her heart from the cold of Anthony’s judgment. But she couldn’t apologize and fail to look Anthony in the eyes. That would be no apology at all. He deserved better.
Shelly turned back to Anthony. He’d moved closer, and his body filled the space in front of her once again. Desire clamored through her body. No fear. No panic. Simply desire and want and need, mixed with the melancholy knowledge that Anthony could never be hers again. He’d find someone refined and well spoken, definitely not a recovering addict. Maybe a woman like that Gwen, the one that Aubrey wanted to fix him up with.
“I’m sorry.” The words came from deep inside her soul. They didn’t hurt to say so much as they gathered a weight that pulled through her body, taking with them a measure of the pain and guilt she carried from her past. Her apology took a tiny bit of that burden away.
Anthony was so close to her now. With the warmth of him, the scent of him surrounding her, the desire to be in his arms nearly overpowered her.
“I accept your apology.”
Shelly’s heart stuttered. Her breath hitched to a stop. He reached out, put his hands on her shoulders. Those big hands that had held her, cupped her ass, roamed her body, now clutched each of her shoulders.
“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, that I didn’t come back, that I didn’t—”
She reached out one finger and pressed it to his full lips, silencing him. She shook her head no, just no. Her addiction, her behaviors, her fall—she had no one to blame but herself. Just like her recovery was her responsibility alone.
He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to her palm.
Heat traveled down her arm. She couldn’t breathe. The air was so thick with their lust, with years and years of pent-up desire, with the fear of never being together again, with the need of two people who had loved deeply, dammit, even when they disappointed each other, and still loved.
Anthony’s lips pressed onto the sensitive flesh of her wrist, a hot kiss that made her hips want to roll forward to meet his. Her entire body thrilled to his touch.
She stepped forward. His arm clasped her waist. His eyes searched her face, glancing over her cheeks, her neck, down to her chest. What was he looking for? What did he need to find in her, what did he want?
“Anthon—”
Before she could finish saying his name, enjoying the sweet sound on her lips, his lips pressed to hers.
Need filled their kiss. A greedy kiss that melded her into him, his entire muscled body against her. He parted her lips and thrust his tongue deep in her mouth. He pulled her closer. She gasped as he tugged with his teeth along her bottom lip. Memories of a love that had lingered and never died threatened to overwhelm her. Her breasts tightened and her head spun with the desire to touch his flesh, to press her lips to the hard skin that stretched taut across his chest and belly.
His cock pressed against her hip, showing her how badly he wanted her. His lips pulled away from hers, running hot and fierce across her jawline and down to her neck. She slid her fingers through his thick hair. She grasped the strands, holding tight, to prevent herself from shattering. All the broken bits of herself threatened to fly apart, unable to contain the pure pleasure that rushed through her.
She clutched his shirt, tugging the cloth up and out of his pants. Her hands danced across the flesh of his belly. A deep growl came from his throat. He pulled her closer and his lips grazed her skin along the vee of her sweater, one hand cupping her breast. He pulled his lips away from her chest and found her lips once more.
When Anthony finally broke their kiss, hunger darkened his face. He lifted her and carried her to the couch in the living room. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked on and off. A symphony of colors—red, green, blue, yellow—filled the entire room. He lowered her onto the couch and slowly slipped her sweater from her body.
Shelly couldn’t help but remember the number of times they’d made out on this very couch, the many nights they’d actually made love in this exact spot. His eyes devoured her nearly bare flesh. On his face she saw so much more than simple sexual desire. She’d seen lust, witnessed the heat and the need of that impulse more times than one person should. The fire between her and Anthony was more than physical.
In his touch, in his eyes, she felt need and desire and love. Perhaps it was just the memory of a love they’d shared, but still, love flowed between them. He bent forward and his lips pressed to her belly. Her hips tilted and a tiny moan came from her throat. Yes, God, please, she wanted him. She wanted him between her legs, she wanted him as she’d never wanted any man but him. He ran tender kisses up over her flesh, stopping at her breast. With his fingertips he reached up and opened the front clasp of her lace bra.
Anthony took the tight tender flesh of her nipple into the heat of his mouth. Suckling and pulling, rolling the tight bud between his lips. Igniting a cacophony of feelings, of emotion and pleasure. His tongue stroked the nipple, soft and hard, hot and wet. His teeth grazed Shelly’s flesh and her body twisted beneath him.
His hand traveled down, sliding her pants over her hips and knees. Then his fingers slipped beneath her panties, caressing her mound. He rolled her panties down over her hips. His eyes feasted on her naked flesh.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice contained that familiar deep growl, laced with possessiveness. As though she’d always been his. Five years apart dropped away in an instant, the distance between them vanishing as if it had never existed.
He spread her legs, and his finger traveled along her inner flesh and parted her. He pressed her swollen nub. Her hips thrust up, her head thrown back against the edge of the couch. Hot kisses traced up her thigh to her mound. He pressed two fingers deep inside her as
his tongue circled around her clit. He sucked her deep into his mouth. His fingers thrust in and out of her body.
God yes, yes, she wanted him, the safety his arms provided. His lips moved against her, his tongue tormented her swollen clit. “Anthony,” she moaned, craving release. He reached up to her breast and pressed his fingers to her nipple. Heat blinded her. She rode the crest of building climax, nearly falling, until his hands and mouth took her over the edge to bliss.
*
The lights of the Christmas tree blinked in the darkness. Cool air caressed Anthony’s bare chest. Shelly lay curled beside him, both of them pressed together on the couch. He reached up and pulled the afghan from the back of the couch over them both. The flashing lights reflected against her porcelain skin.
He’d wanted her. Wanted to take her right here, on this couch, where as teenagers they’d spent countless nights in each other’s arms. But after she’d come, he’d seen tears glistening on her cheeks. Tears he’d kissed away. Shelly hadn’t met his gaze, but instead curled into his arms, and he’d pulled her close to protect her, to keep out the world and whatever made her cry. Now the hour was late, the house was cold, and Shelly still slept in his arms.
There was time. A few hours of time, at least, before the sun crept over the horizon and he needed to wake Shelly to send her upstairs to her room. Mrs. Bello would rise with the sun, and she’d be okay with finding Anthony asleep on the couch, as long as Shelly wasn’t lying beside him. Hell, at their age, and with everything that had happened, she’d probably be okay to find Shelly beside him, possibly thrilled. But he wouldn’t do that to Mrs. Bello, not in her own home. Not when confusion and tough memories already fringed the edges of his relationship with Shelly. He pulled her closer and tucked the blanket around her naked body.
Beauty. Pure beauty. Her face like cut marble, she looked like a statue that belonged in the Louvre. Her high cheekbones and a patrician nose, rosebud lips slightly parted as she slept. Peace. Her face held a peace in sleep that he’d yet to see when she was awake.
He pressed his lips to her forehead. He hadn’t felt this present, this whole, this content since the last time he’d held Shelly in his arms. The night before she’d left, actually, in this very house, on this very couch. Damn, he hadn’t recalled that memory in years. The night of Vinnie’s funeral they’d lain in this very spot, his arms holding her close while she cried into his chest.
He’d thought then he was doing the right thing, saying the right things. He’d thought in that moment that his arms, their future, their love would be enough, and that together they’d get through that awful time after Vinnie’s death. Hard? Hell, yes. Hard as hell. Vinnie had been his best friend and Shelly’s brother. Back then the only reason they hadn’t gotten married yet was because they were waiting for Vinnie to come home.
And then he had come home. In a wooden box.
Anthony rolled his gaze upward to stare at the ceiling. The blinking Christmas lights splashed color on the textured surface. What the hell had happened? Why had Shelly left? How had he failed her? That night, that fucking night after the funeral, had been devastating, but they had each other. They held each other, they cried, but they were alive together. Then the next day, she was gone.
His heart tightened in his chest. This love between him and Shelly, this desire they had for each other, would bring him to his knees. She would leave. She was building a life on the West Coast now—far from family, far from sad memories, far from him. He rubbed his hand over his jaw and the fine scruff of stubble appearing there. Nope. Shelly in his arms felt damned good, but when she left and his arms were empty, that would be the worst feeling in the world.
Chapter 10
“Mrs. Bello! Shelly! I’m so happy you’re here!” Aubrey walked toward them across the banquet hall. Her red dress matched the decor. A woman with short curly hair, taller but with similar eyes, followed behind Aubrey. “This is my sister Nina.” So this was the famous world-class chef Aubrey had mentioned was coming to New York for the holidays.
“Happy to meet you.” Mrs. Bello pulled Nina in and kissed each of her cheeks. Then Nonna held her back at arm’s length and examined her. “You’re a tall one. A lot like your sister, who talks about you all the time. Such a good aunt, such a great cook.”
Nina’s smile beamed. “Thank you, Mrs. Bello.” Her gaze turned to Shelly. “And you’re Shelly, the one who grew up with the brothers?”
“That would be me.”
“Tough gig, being the only girl around these guys.”
“Plus her brother, my Vinnie, who might as well have been a fifth Travati. So it was all of the boys and Shelly.”
“Wow”—Nina lifted both eyebrows—“and you survived.”
“Just barely,” Shelly said. Nina turned back to Nonna to ask her another question, and Shelly let her gaze wander the room, which had transformed into a winter wonderland. She’d been transported to Santa’s workshop. The children hadn’t arrived yet, but all the staff were dressed as elves. Centerpieces of teddy bears, one for every child, sat in the middle of each table. At the front of the room Santa’s sleigh occupied center stage, with a gargantuan bag filled to the brim with presents in the back. Wait staff scurried around prepping tables and filling water.
Shelly and Nonna followed Aubrey to their table, Nina at her side.
“How’d you dodge the elf costume?” Shelly asked Nina.
“I just refused. Told her I’d go to Tahiti with friends for Christmas if she made me wear it. Seemed to work.”
Across the room Gwen, in a dark green dress and black heels, directed an elf toward the Christmas tree.
“Here we are,” Aubrey said. The table was near the front of the room, right beside the stage. “The boys won’t be here for another half hour, but they all promised to attend and to be on time.”
Shelly scanned the reindeer-shaped name cards at each place setting to find her seat, just to the left of the one Nina gestured Nonna toward.
“Believe that when I see it.” Nina pulled out Nonna’s chair. “Those four are consumed with work.”
“This from you? The lady who works, last I counted, a full sixteen hours a day?” Aubrey teased her sister.
“It’s a restaurant. Long hours come with the territory.”
Nonna sat, and Shelly set her purse on her own chair. She glanced at the place card at the seat to her other side.
Anthony Travati.
Her heart leapt, and tingles trailed through her body. Memories of the previous night flitted through her mind, turning her core to molten heat. Last night Anthony had filled her with pleasure, and then again in the darkness this morning, when he’d awakened her with a kiss and a caress down her thigh. They’d pleased each other a bit more in the early morning hours, until the sun crept over the horizon and she’d scurried up the stairs to her bedroom before Nonna got up for the day.
Being with Anthony, kissing Anthony, his hands on her body, was everything she had remembered. She wanted more, she wanted all of him. This morning, when she’d awakened beside him, his defenses were down. The wall he’d built around his heart had cracked and he was the same guy she remembered from the neighborhood. The guy she’d fallen for, the guy she’d loved…the guy she’d left.
Icy fear trickled through her heart. Who would Anthony be when he arrived at the Travati Teddy Bear Luncheon? Would he be the heartless King of Cold, or the man with the warm heart and the long kisses? All his brothers were meant to be here, as well as Aubrey, her sister, and Max. Would Anthony go back to being stiff and stoic, the man who seemed unfeeling and unloving?
She didn’t like the cold version of Anthony. She preferred the guy she’d fallen in love with, the guy he’d been this morning, the guy who smiled, soft and kind and full of joy and love.
The man filled with warmth was her Anthony, her Tony.
“Shelly, can we get your grandmother anything?” Gwen, with her perfect hair, perfect makeup, and the just-right dress, stood beside Shelly
. This woman was too together. Not a flaw to be found. Not only was she damn near perfect, but she wasn’t condescending or patronizing either. Couldn’t she at least have a pimple on her nose?
“I think we’re fine for now. We’ve got water and there will be cookies. Nonna loves cookies.”
“I do love cookies,” Nonna echoed.
Gwen pressed her fingertips to the earpiece of the headset she wore. “Kids in three minutes. In fact, I think I hear the pounding of little feet now.”
Shelly turned toward the main doors just as they burst open. One hundred children, aged six, seven, and eight, flew into the room. The hall went from nearly silent to deafening instantly. Parents trailed behind, but no one could keep up with the wound-for-sound noise machine of kids who scattered gleefully.
“Wow, they’re excited.” Shelly blinked.
Aubrey rubbed her belly. “Most of the families come all three years so that the kids can really feel like this is their party.” Her gaze met Shelly’s eyes, and a soft smile curved over her lips. “The event was originally Anthony’s idea.”
Shelly’s heart swelled and warm pride burst through her body. Of course this event had been Anthony’s idea. He’d always been the brother who wanted to marry, to have a family, to remain close to his community. At his core Anthony was the warm guy, not a cold businessman.
“The guys better get here.” Aubrey glanced at her phone. “Santa arrives in thirty minutes, and then we’re really underway.”
A server placed a cup of coffee and a plate of cookies in front of Nonna.
“I’m set, girls. I can see everything from here. I’ve got my coffee and my cookies. Go do what you do. I’ll flag one of you down if I need anything.”
Shelly looked at Aubrey. “How can I help?”
Aubrey turned toward the cookie-decorating station.
“I’m going to get some of the kids from the cookie station and bring them over to where they can make their own Christmas stocking. Could you go over there with Nina and the volunteers, just to make certain no one gets overwhelmed?”