“Secondly, he continued, slowly drawing her simply sundress up her thighs to cup her butt cheeks in his hand. Instantly, her body responded to him, her frame relaxing against him instinctively as his lips brushed against the skin of her neck.
The combination of cool rain and his hot breath made her tingle all over.
“Secondly,” he said again, tasting her flesh as a crack of thunder boomed above them. “You’re dressed like a peasant woman and I feel like plundering the town.”
Sofia couldn’t help but snicker, despite her resolve to be annoyed.
“Is there a third?” she asked coyly, tipping her head to the side, permitting him to sample the delicate skin of her throat.
“Yes,” he murmured. “The third thing is, if laundry is the worst of our problems right now, we’re in pretty damned good shape.”
She had to admit that he was right, and as his mouth continued to explore her, she thought of how they had come to be in a place where her biggest woe was redoing the laundry because of the sensual rain on their island paradise.
It had not always been so simple. Their new identifications had come at a steep price and even as they found themselves hunkered on the Mediterranean Sea, at Villaggio Colostrai, the year they had spent becoming Marco and Sofia Bernardo, a married couple from England had not always been easy.
Sofia had spent the time looking over her shoulder, waiting for the FBI or the mob to burst through the hut of their inconspicuous villa, demanding answers or vengeance. Or both.
The idea of being wrenched from the tentative but happy life she and Marco had built together made her sick to her stomach, and every day, she desperately wanted to reach out to Valentina to see if she had been found out, and if Tracey was safe.
Of course her training and well-honed sense of self-preservation kept her from doing any such thing. If the two women had been found, there was no doubt in Sofia’s mind that both her cousin and her cousin’s lover’s devices would be closely monitored.
No, they had needed to make a clean break from Miami and everything they had ever known.
When did I finally start feeling safe? When was it I actually became Sofia and not Andrea Benito?
The answer, it seemed, happened long before she and Marco had made their daring escape via cruise ship. I think I became Sofia the minute I walked into Giovanni’s restaurant. Somehow that persona just seemed to bring out the real me.
She reminded herself that the woman who had walked into the bar that night definitely would not have had a hissy fit about the laundry needing a rewash in the province of Ogliastra.
The feel of Marco’s fingers sliding against the crack of her cheeks and a flash of lightning caused her to refocus her attention back to her pseudo husband and the storm brewing above their heads.
“I like you like this,” he purred, urging her downward into the damp grass. She didn’t fight the blossoming passion that always grew quickly when the two of them were together, allowing herself to be pressed into the soft grass as his tongue lapped the raindrops off her flesh. The thin, homespun dress clung to her body like Saran wrap but Marco was having no issue peeling it from her frame, exposing her to his hot mouth.
“You like me screaming at you like a shrew?” she giggled, all her previous misgivings forgotten when his mouth latched onto a rigid nipple.
Goosebumps covered her from head to toe, her hair plastered to her face as the gale whipped up over the water, spraying them with mist, but neither seemed to notice.
Marco’s head trailed along the line of her belly, his tongue tickling her deliciously.
“Spread your knees,” Marco ordered, kneeling in front of her as he continued to torment her with his tongue. “Wider, baby.” Pressing against her inner thigh he guided her until her legs were spread wide enough to part her swollen folds.
Her clit was engorged and gleaming with her juices. Her cheeks flushed as she shuddered before his eyes, tossing her head with abandon.
“Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful,” Marco groaned, one hand releasing his cock from his pants while the other one continued to stimulate her core.
“Oh God…” she cried, nearly sobbing as Marco increased the number of fingers he sunk into her wet pussy.
“I want to watch you as I stretch your pretty cunt with my cock. Watch your face until you come apart in my arms and beg me to fuck you harder. You’re going to scream so hard for me, cara,” he growled, barely holding himself in check.
It seemed to take forever for him to thrust fully inside her, his cock throbbing along with the passion that continued to build within her, as she sobbed in pleasure, her body shuddering with the sharpedned sensations tearing through it.
Before she could adjust, before she could get used to the deep penetration, Marco’s lips covered the painfully hard tip of a breast, sucking her nipple into the heat of his mouth, and destroying her as he began to thrust forcefully into her body.
Sofia’s head tilted further back, lifting her breasts toward Marco’s mouth, begging for him to assault them so sweetly again. A cry escaped her as he drew on first one, then the other, sucking it deep, letting his teeth rake them. His thrusts grew faster as her cries spurred him on, pushing him to the edge of an explosion he knew he couldn’t possibly survive.
He felt her body clench down hard on his cock and knew that her orgasm was close. He thrust harder, faster, pushing her through the violence of her orgasm as he groaned above her. His jaw clenched hard as the climax overcame him, her body’s shudders of bliss pushing his satisfaction even higher.
The final pulses of his release jetting inside her as she fought to catch her breath.
It always feels new, she thought as the aftershocks finally abated. Nothing could have prepared me for the connection we have.
Suddenly, Marco stilled, tensing above her.
“Marco, what is it?” she whispered, sitting up abruptly, her eyes fixed on a point across the pond. He rolled sideways, his body instantly transforming into battle mode as he donned his pants quickly.
“Shh,” he ordered.
She grabbed her dress and held it to her chest, panic rising like a tidal wave within her, replacing the sense of languid satisfaction completely, her eyes fixated on the horizon.She jumped to her feet, hastily trying to pull the silky material over her head. She pointed at the boat nearing them, her heart racing.
“Who is that?” she choked. “We have to get out of sight!”
He jerked his finger toward the stucco house beyond the wisteria, gesturing for her to go inside. She stumbled forward, torn between following his instructions and staying with him.
Slamming through the back door, she ducked behind the wall and peered out toward the pond at the lone vessel headed toward shore.
To her horror, she saw Marco ambling toward the boat.
What the hell is he doing? She wondered, terror filling her to the point of breathlessness. Helplessly, she watched as he trotted onto the sinking sand and waved toward the schooner. She couldn’t make out his words against the storm but his apparent lack of caution troubled her.
Who the hell is he waving to?
They knew better than to attract attention to themselves. Keeping a low profile was what they did best. It was why they had selected the tiny, obscure villa, away from neighbors, away from the bustling town.
The idea was that they saw no one day-to-day and that they saw people coming from a mile down the plain, unmanned road in either direction. It gave them enough time to run if need be.
Yet Marco seemed unfazed by the newcomer, as if a tired boat floating through the stormy pond was commonplace.
Sofia realized she was trembling as she stood, watching as a face appeared on deck, and the men in the storm continued to gesture at one another.
Unreasonable fear and guilt gripped her heart as she shivered, practically naked behind the wall, peering into the storm.
I shouldn’t have left him there. I need to go to him. What if that’s one of Giova
nni’s men? What if I’m about to watch Marco be killed right before my eyes?
Logic had no place in her thoughts as she waited for the other shoe to drop. There was no way for the Miami crime boss to have found them. They had used a combination of her sources and his to plan their escape, neither one knowing about the other.
It had been a year, after all. Surely the mob had moved on to more pressing issues than an AWOL capo…hadn’t they?
Inhaling sharply, Sofia made her decision, stepping out from behind the wall, barely acknowledging her nakedness as her concern for Marco drove her forward.
No sooner had she crossed the threshold into the muddy yard did the tin boat start up and putter back the way it had come.
“What the hell was that all about?” she gasped, running to Marco.
“What the hell are you doing running around naked?” he countered, growling in disapproval, draping a protective arm around her and manhandling her bottom in the process.
“Who was that?” she insisted, even as Marco clutched her firmly and steered her back toward the villa.
“I should spank your ass for showing your goods to a hundred-year-old Italian man.”
She cast him a sidelong look, her cheeks pinkening prettily as they both realized the idea was not unappealing to her. Moreover, she was relieved that it was some apparently geriatric fisherman who had lost his way and not a threat to them.
Inside, Marco grabbed a towel off the railing and began to rub her dry as she stood dripping in the kitchen.
“How many times do I have to tell you not to worry, cara mia?” he murmured, wrapping her trembling frame inside the terrycloth and drawing her against his solid body. “I would never put you in danger. Don’t you trust me by now?”
But it had nothing to do with trusting him and he knew it. He was just trying to make her feel safe, despite their circumstances.
“When will be able to stop looking over our shoulders?” she murmured, permitting her guard to be lowered slightly as he continued to gently dry her.
“It’s funny you should ask that,” he replied, smiling. Sofia stared at him, cocking her head slightly to the side.
“Funny ‘ha-ha’ or funny ‘we’re going to die’?” she asked, trying to keep her tone nonchalant.
“You need to get that idea out of your head,” Marco sighed. “That fisherman came bearing good news.”
Her body tensed despite his touch and she eyed him warily.
“What good news? How did you know him? What was he doing here? Does he know who we are? How do you know he won’t rat us out?”
The questions erupted from her in rapid-fire succession and Marco smiled, leaning away from her slightly.
“Once a cop, always a cop, huh?” he snickered.
“This isn’t amusing to me, Marco. Who was he?” She shot back, fear edged with ice marking her words.
Slowly, her lover rose to his feet, his emerald eyes alight with something she couldn’t easily identify.
“Giovanni thinks we’ve been assassinated.”
The words sent a wave of shivers through her body and she gaped at him in shock. Her mind struggled to make sense of the information.
“What? How? How do you know?”
“That man you saw is a part of the mob resistance in Italy. I’ve been working with the group since we arrived.”
“YOU WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?”
“Jesus Christ, Sof, calm down. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you? DO YOU?”
It didn’t seem that way to her, but then he grasped her firmly by the arms and brought his face inches from her. He stared directly into her eyes, and she saw the confidence in his gaze. Finally, she calmed down and stared at him with hopeful eyes.
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “I do. I’ve been plotting our fake deaths since we arrived and it’s finally happened. They aren’t looking for us anymore.”
Her lips parted but no sound came out, although another dozen questions threatened to erupt from her.
“Trust me, cara. It’s done.”
“Trust you? You didn’t tell me that our cover had been blown, that – “
“Because I knew you would react like this,” he interjected, a slight growl to his tone. “You need to pull yourself together and listen to me. You’ve already been walking on eggshells, giving yourself heart palpitations. The last thing you needed was the added stress of knowing I was working with the local resistance.”
Sofia’s heart was doing backflips and for a moment, she thought she might be having a stroke. Outside, the thunder rumbled like foreshadowing in some bad movie but Marco reached up to clasp her face between his palms.
“Focus on my face,” he instructed as if sensing that she was walking a fine line between fear and relief. “I’m telling you that we’re safe now. We have nothing to worry about, nothing to stress about.”
“How can you be sure?” she murmured, desperately wanting to believe him. He seemed so confident in what he was saying and she couldn’t imagine he would say such a thing unless he was certain. If he’d hidden his involvement with this underground group for so long, he definitely wouldn’t make such a bold statement unless he was sure.
Or at least he thinks he’s sure.
She willed herself to be rational and nodded reluctantly.
“How did they do that? There’s dental records and fingerprints and DNA - “
“We didn’t “die” in a mob hit,” he explained quietly. She clamped her mouth shut, the possibilities and angles flying through her brain.
God, how she wanted to believe what he was saying. He had kept her out of harm’s way for this long, hadn’t he? Marco certainly knew more about the ways of the mob than she did from her limited stint in Miami Beach.
“Breathe, cara,” he coaxed her. “You know I will always keep you safe.”
She continued to study his face, the confidence she saw there finally beginning to break down her fear.
“So…” she exhaled. “That’s it? There’s no one after us anymore?”
Saying it aloud sounded strange to her ears. Marco shook his head.
“It’s over. We can live our lives freely now. No one is looking for us.”
It was difficult to wrap her mind around it, but ultimately she couldn’t stop herself from nodding slowly, her heart gradually returning to its normal pace as she weighed the words.
“You look like you’re going to cry,” Marco mumbled, drawing her toward him and as their bodies melded together in perfect conformation, just as they had since the beginning, she realized.
His soul was part of hers. And hers was part of him. Together they were whole.
His fingers entwined into her hair and she sighed, finally permitting the last of the stress to release from her body.
“So?” Marco breathed after a long moment of silence. “What do you think about all this?”
She pulled back slightly and eyed him.
“I have no idea what to think of it,” she confessed. “I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t seem too good to be true and that I’m going to have a hard time accepting it, but…”
“But?”
“But I trust you and I know you’re the reason we’ve gotten this far.”
He chuckled dryly.
“I think it was a team effort,” he corrected. “But I wouldn’t say anything unless I was sure about this. It took a lot of careful planning, Sof but we finally got Giovanni off our trail.”
She let a small smile slip onto her face and she nodded.
“I believe you,” she told him and she meant it.
“So…what do we do now?” she asked, unsure of what else to say. Marco grinned mischievously.
“That’s the point, Sofia, we can do whatever we want. If you want, we can leave here and get a house in Cagliari or Nuoro. We have enough money to do whatever we want.”
The possibilities twirled in her mind. It was true; Marco had squirreled away quite a nest egg to keep
them sustained for a while but even without it, if they were free, truly free, they could acquire jobs under their fake identities.
We could live like normal people. Fighting traffic and line ups!
“You want to move into a city?” she asked, suddenly not sure if she was ready to leave their little hideaway. Marco shrugged.
“I don’t care where we go from here. There’s no need to hide out in the middle of nowhere anymore,” he explained. “I only ever wanted to come to Sardinia and live by the sea with you.” He paused, looking slightly chagrined. “Little did I know that my geography was off, but I’m living with you…and technically we’re by the sea, if not in Sardinia.”
“We can still go north if you want,” she replied, a spark of excitement filling her as she said it. It was the first time they had ever considered moving into a more populated area.
This is really happening. We’re free!
A beam curled her lips and she nodded.
“All right,” she replied softly. “I have an idea.”
He stared at her expectantly and she was suddenly nervous about her idea.
“Let’s stay right here in Villaggio Colostrai in our tiny little villa, doing laundry against the rocks while you mock me.”
Lightning lit the interior of their bungalow home, illuminating the special artifacts that had made it into a home.
“Really?” he laughed. “The way you were talking earlier, I thought you were going to go full all Italian mama on me outside.”
Her smile widened and she stared at him, wondering if he didn’t, in fact, know how to read her mind.
“What?”
“I’ll do the laundry at the pond for as long as I’m able,” she replied slowly.
His brow furrowed, a look of concern covering his face.
“Why wouldn’t you be able?”
“Because at some point, I might have a hard time bending that far over,” she offered lightly, her pulse racing as she gauged his reaction.
He didn’t immediately understand.
“Why? What’s wrong? Are you sick?” he demanded and she giggled.
“Not yet,” she sighed, “But I likely will be soon, caro.”
MAFIA BOSSES - The Box Set: An Enemies to Lovers Trilogy Page 23