“Now what?” She blew the hair out of her face and frowned.
Michael grinned at her cranky expression, straddled her, and looked down.
All humor left him in a rush. She was gorgeous—all sleek curves and muscles. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed her deep, plunging into her mouth, thrusting his tongue in and out in a precursor of what he planned to do to her. When he released her lips, she breathed hard, and her eyes misted with arousal.
He took his time. He nibbled and sucked on her nipples and let his hands drift over her belly, her hips, then slide behind her to cup her ass and spread her legs wider. His fingers paused on the nub begging for his touch, then plunged into her channel.
She cried out and pulled at her ties. He pushed her higher, using two fingers to sink into her wet heat while his thumb flicked at her clit. Every muscle beneath him quivered with anticipation, and she writhed on the bed.
“Damn you, untie me! I want to touch you.”
“Not yet, cara. I am having too much fun with my fantasy.”
She cursed him and he laughed, dipped his head, and tasted her.
She came hard. Her scream ripped from her throat, and he allowed her to ride out the wave. When she surfaced, her flushed skin trembled helplessly underneath him. He pushed her thighs wider apart and drove his penis in with one solid thrust.
He gritted his teeth and prayed for control. Her channel clenched him in a tight vise, and spasms shook her body like ministorms. He filled her completely and pure pleasure exploded within him. Slowly, he pressed her down into the mattress.
“Michael.” Her glazed eyes suddenly shone in panic, and she bucked beneath him, tugging at the restraints with a frantic motion. “Don’t.”
The rawness of her fear made him second-guess himself. “Look at me, mia amore. Look into my eyes and see who I am.”
Her focus sharpened as she gazed deeply into his eyes. Her pupils dilated in recognition, and inch by inch her muscles relaxed, allowing him further access. Tears swam in her eyes. He kissed her tenderly, his thumb wiping away the tear that trickled down her face.
“I love you, Maggie. It’s never been Alexa, and it never will be. I’m in love with you.”
He moved. Each motion claimed her for himself, told her of his emotions and need for her to belong to him. The last of the fight eased from her body and she matched him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into his back as they climbed higher and higher. She exploded beneath him and he let himself go. The unbearable pleasure wrecked him, overtook him, and threw him over the edge. When the storm finally passed, Michael realized his life would never be the same.
And he didn’t want it to be.
* * *
He loved her.
The words echoed over and over in her head. Sometimes as beautiful as opera. Sometimes with a cackle of merriment and mocking. Either way, she needed to deal with it, but Lord knows she was too freaked out at the moment.
She flexed her now freed hands. He held her with more tenderness than a man had ever shown her. His lovemaking seemed less about kink and more about giving her everything, and asking for the same.
She swallowed past the words bubbling up on her lips and remained silent. Just three simple words, but they were the most difficult words she could think of to utter. His sweat-dampened skin pressed against hers, solid and real. He’d given her a gift that had no price. Trust. Somehow, with her being tied up and forced to surrender, she learned to trust another human being.
He dropped a gentle kiss to her tangled hair. “Thank you for giving me your trust. I want to know all of you, cara, but I can wait.”
His patience rattled her foundation. Why did he seek more than her body? His confession he never loved Alexa rang clean and true. Perhaps she’d always sensed the truth but didn’t want to lose her final obstacle. Now there was nowhere to run, yet she couldn’t say those three words he needed.
Maggie closed her eyes and gave him the only other gift she had left. Her truth.
“I was sixteen. I was crushing majorly on the cliché of all clichés—the quarterback of the football team. Of course, he barely noticed me, but I did all the usual girly things to gain his attention. One day, he came over and talked to me. Days later, he asked me out. I was giddy and believed we’d finally be boyfriend and girlfriend.”
His hand stopped stroking her hair. Slowly, he turned to face her in bed. She felt his gaze caress her, but she stared up at the ceiling as the events unwound before her vision.
“I made myself up with lots of makeup. Short skirt, lots of cleavage showing the little I had. I had no one to chaperone me at the time, so I came and went as I pleased with no rules.
“He took me to a movie, then back to the school at the football field. We sat on the grass and looked up at the moon. I was so happy. Until he pushed me down on the ground and stuck his hand up my shirt. You see, I was all talk and no action. I’d never dated a guy before, never even had a crazy make-out session. I let him do some things because I thought it was the right thing to do. Until he pulled down my skirt.”
She gulped a breath, and his hand clasped hers. He waited in silence as she struggled, but his warmth slowly seeped into her skin. “He raped me. Afterward, he rolled away, stood up, and said he was disappointed. Told me I’d been looking for it with my clothes and my attitude. That if I told anyone, I’d be the laughingstock of the school. I got my clothes on and he took me home. When he got to my house, he told me thanks for the good time. Let’s do it again.
“I got out of the car and my mother was watching television in the living room. I went straight over to her and told her the whole story.”
The events of that horrible night rolled over her, but this time, someone lay beside her. This time, someone cared enough to listen.
“My mother laughed and told me I got what I asked for. Said to get on birth control, get smarter, and deal with it. Then she walked away from me.” Maggie ripped her gaze away from the blank ceiling and turned toward him. “I didn’t know what to do. Felt like I could go insane. I took the next few days off, then went back to school. And when I passed him in the hall, I just nodded a hello. The pregnancy test came back negative. I got on birth control. And suddenly, I realized I had two paths before me and I needed to choose.
“I could hide my sexuality behind baggy clothes and never feel comfortable being physical with a boy again. Or I could push past it and own my own stuff. Somehow, I realized I could get pleasure from sex, but it would be up to me to set the terms. I’d be sure something like that would never happen again.”
Her heart pounded on the verge of an attack. “I decided I wouldn’t let that bastard take away who I was. I dressed the way I wanted, and I controlled who I had sex with from that time on. When I wanted, where I wanted, and how I wanted. But sometimes, when a man is on top of me, something flashes back to that time and I panic. I hate it, but I can’t seem to control that part of my memory. Until now.”
Michael reached out and tucked her head against his chest. Strength and heat and safety wound its way through her with a seamless grace that took her breath away. “I am so sorry, cara. I didn’t know. If I had, I wouldn’t have pushed in such a way.”
She shook her head hard. “No, I’m glad you did. Now, I’m not afraid.”
He sucked in a breath, and she realized he trembled beneath her. Slowly, she raised her head to look into his face.
Fierce pride and raw fury shimmered in his eyes. His hands were as gentle as a butterfly as he stroked the hair back from her face. “For someone to hurt you like this makes me question what is fair and right in this world. But you, mia amore, took such an event and gained strength. You made your life on your own terms with no one to help. You humble me.”
She bit her lip and lowered her head back on his chest. His words echoed in the silence of the room and exploded the last brick of the wall guarding her heart. He didn’t comment on the tear that fell upon his chest.
That made Maggie love him even
more.
Chapter Twelve
Two days later, Maggie lounged on the back terrace, sipping a glass of wine and stroking Dante. He lay on the table, basking in the heat of the sun, grunting softly. He flipped over and exposed his massive belly, his favorite place to be scratched. Every time her hand got tired she’d stop, but then he’d hiss at her in pure menace that she now knew was completely fake.
“You’re such a drama king,” she admonished.
Those huge green eyes stared at her with implacable demand and crankiness. She let out an impatient sigh and put down her glass. She raked her nails lightly over his belly and he went back to purring so loudly he sounded like a chain saw. “Fine, fine, here, happy now?”
God, she hated cats.
Of course, like Dante, she was a big fat liar. This feline had worked its way under her skin. A cheap thrill skated through her that the stray wouldn’t let anyone touch him except for her. In a wacky way, she felt as if they belonged to each other. Two stray, bad-ass loners who didn’t know how to handle people.
What was she going to do?
Michael loved her. Ever since his shattering admission and her shattering confession, they’d silently agreed not to discuss the topic further. Maggie wanted to believe him, craved the ability to say the words back, but something held her prisoner.
Her past.
The sunlight struck the two-carat diamond on her ring finger and shimmered in mockery.
She needed to make a decision soon. She agreed to stay a few days longer while they made sure Mama Conte was okay, and they could get Venezia’s wedding plans solidified.
She had never told anyone except her mother about the rape. Her mother’s betrayal killed a trust deep inside of her, and Michael brought it back to life. Goose bumps lifted her arms at the memory of his hands and mouth and tongue on every part of her body without the ability to do anything but surrender. Damn, now she knew why that bondage stuff was so widely read.
Dante leered as if he knew her thoughts, kicked her hand away, and stretched into a different position. “Yeah, I bet you’re a male stud, knocking up all the helpless females around town,” she pointed out to him. “Take some responsibility for your actions, buddy. I think I need to take you to the vet and get you fixed.”
“Are you talking to the cat?”
Maggie turned her head and fought a blush. Carina stood with her arms crossed, laughing at her. “Of course not,” she denied hotly. “You’re hearing things.”
She snickered. “Yeah, sure. Hi, Dante.” She took a few steps closer, her hand held out, a low, soothing tone wrapping around the cat. He watched her slow approach and Maggie and Carina held their breath.
With a disgusted hiss, he jumped up, swished his tail, and disappeared into the bushes. Carina’s mouth dropped open. Maggie hid her satisfied expression and sipped her wine. “Why doesn’t he like me?” she whined. “I love animals. I feed him. You insult him and he adores you.”
Maggie shrugged. “Men are fickle. What’s going on?”
“We’re going into town to look at flowers. Wanna come?”
Maggie wrinkled her nose. “Boring. I’ll pass.”
Carina giggled. “I know, I’m not a flower kind of girl myself, but since you’re still new to the family, you can get out of these things.” She let out a sigh. “Fine, be a brat. I’ll see you a bit later. Mama’s resting but doing fine.” A confused expression flitted over her face. “It’s really weird, too. As soon as you guys left, she had all this energy, was back to her old self, and seemed fine. The doctor came again and said the whole thing must have been a false alarm.”
“Huh. Weird, but at least she’s better.”
“Yeah, you’re right. See you later.”
Carina left and Maggie sat for a while longer, basking in the heat and the silence. She needed to find Michael. With the house empty, it was time they talked. She drained the last of her wine for liquid courage and went inside the house.
She peeked through some of the rooms, then caught his deep voice from the study. She stopped outside the door and paused before knocking. Maybe she’d wait outside until—
“No, Max, she didn’t marry me for my money. She makes enough on her own. You are like an overprotective mama, mia amico.”
He paused, then spoke with a coldness that gave her a chill. “You did what? Hiring a private detective to check on her background is unacceptable. Yes, I know about her past. She is unlike her parents. Merda, do not challenge me on this; she is my wife now.”
More silence.
“No, I don’t think children will happen for a while—she needs some time. She is not the typical woman I wanted to marry but things change. I can wait.” Maggie heard his footsteps back and forth. “This is my decision and I no longer want to discuss it. I will make this work.”
The conversation went on a bit longer while she hid in the corridor. Humiliation burned until her skin actually prickled. Max didn’t believe she was good enough for his best friend. What had the detective told him? That her parents were a joke and she had no experience with a healthy relationship? Within minutes of meeting her, Max realized the truth she’d been desperately trying to hide.
She was only a shell of a woman. Michael deserved more. He needed someone with an open heart and no complications. A woman his family didn’t have to train; one who loved cats and children and cooking.
Not a woman like her. One with a crappy past, a bruised heart, and an inability to love.
She backed up slowly as the panic attack threatened. Turned. Then she heard him.
“Ah, la mia tigrotta, would you like to go for a walk with me? It is a beautiful evening.”
His musical, rich voice caressed her skin and tempted her to forget.
The truth slammed through her.
She couldn’t pretend anymore. Not with him. Not with herself.
Maggie stared up at her husband and made the only decision she could.
“Michael, I’m going home.”
He blinked and reached out, but she jerked back. He frowned. “What’s the matter, Maggie? Did something happen?”
“I want to go home alone.”
“Is this about us?” He grabbed her arm and leaned in. “Are you running scared because I confessed my feelings? I know we didn’t talk about it right away, but I thought I’d give you some time.”
She yanked her arm away and sneered. “Don’t do me any favors, Count. Let’s just say I’m sick of the lies, and I want my life back. Not this fake life. This fake marriage.” She flung her hands up and encompassed the room. “This is all bullshit! We’ve been playing a part, pretending to be married, then forced into a real marriage when there’s no way it’ll work. We’re too different. I don’t want this!” she cried out. “I don’t want overbearing sisters, and stray cats, and forced baking lessons! I don’t want to feel strangled all the time under the weight of responsibility. I like being free and making my own choices. So it’s time we both wake up and stop playing at a damn movie of the week.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. The anger swirled with pain and only enraged her further. “Did my words mean nothing to you?” he asked furiously. “I told you I loved you. Did that mean nothing?”
She stuck out her chin. Met his gaze dead-on. “Your words meant nothing.”
She turned on her heel to leave. He made a move to stop her but she spit like Dante and bared her teeth. “Leave me alone; can’t you see I don’t want this anymore? I don’t want you or this awful lifestyle your real wife would inherit! Have some pride, for God’s sake.”
This time, he let her go.
She raced down the hall, seeking shelter to lick her wounds before her speedy departure. She’d walk into town, leave her belongings, and get them at a later date. Other than her camera, everything else was replaceable. Better to get out now before she faced his sisters. Michael could come up with some excuse.
With leaden feet, she grabbed her camera, purse, and cell phone. She made some quick calls
and left the only home that ever made her feel like she belonged. The only home that ever made her feel loved.
Maggie didn’t look back.
* * *
“What’s going on?”
Maggie sat in the living room and stared at her best friend. Alexa rocked the baby on one hip, the standard drool cloth tossed over her shoulder, while Lily babbled and squealed as she stared at the puppy playing by her mother’s feet. The small golden ball of fur pawed at her slipper-clad toes and scampered back and forth every time Alexa moved away.
Old Yeller, the ugly hound Alexa convinced Nick to keep more than a year ago, lay in the small patch of sun leaking through the window and watched the puppy with an air of disapproval. The familiar blue and orange Mets bandanna wrapped around his neck gave off a distinguished appearance unheard of for a once mangy stray.
Maggie tried to avoid the subject. “I can’t believe you got a puppy. Nick hates messes.”
Alexa let out an impatient breath and danced out of the fur ball’s reach. “Oh, I didn’t do it this time. Nick was coming home from the waterfront and found Simba in the woods, crying. Bruises all over the poor thing’s body. Must have been thrown out of a moving car.”
Maggie winced. “I can’t believe he didn’t take it to the shelter. What have you done to my brother?”
Alexa laughed and bounced in time to the hip-hop music streaming from the surround-sound speakers. Simba growled in delight and tried to keep up with the moves. Lily giggled. “First he took the dog to the vet, then brought it home while demanding I don’t get attached. He said he’d put an ad in the paper and find the dog a home.” She shrugged. “So I let him. After a week, the ad disappeared and we never spoke about it again. He says hello to the puppy before me when he gets home from work.”
Longing washed through Maggie. She missed that stupid cat and the way he’d roll over and demand his belly be scratched. She missed Carina’s bouncy eagerness, and Julietta’s crisp business attitude, and Venezia’s dramatic outbursts. She missed Michael’s mother’s quiet insistence in the kitchen, the smell of baking, and drinking coffee on the terrace.
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