“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I know.” But then his expression sobered. “I’m sorry, love, but I don’t think I… Wait.” Just as her heart began to fall, his smile returned. “Hold on a sec.”
He pulled away, and without the heat of his body she felt suddenly… exposed. More naked—or half-naked—than she had been seconds before. But she resisted the urge to examine her flaws in the sunlight streaming through the curtains. He thinks you look fine. He thinks you look sexy.
Laura ran an absent finger over the brown line bisecting her belly and decided that he was right.
Then Samir muttered, “Oh, thank fuck.” She turned in time to see him pull a condom from one of the many little pockets in his wallet. He squinted at the back of the foil for a second before giving her a teasing smile. “Alright, angel. We’ll do that thing.”
He knelt beside her on the bed, his thighs thick and muscled, his cock jutting dark and heavy between them, the fat head gleaming. He looked obscene. He looked delicious. When he put the condom aside instead of tearing it open, Laura wanted to pout like a spoiled brat.
But then he pulled her fully onto her back before easing off the last of her clothes. And then he slid his palms up her legs, past her swollen ankles and her aching calves, until he reached her sensitive inner thighs.
“Do you get wet like this every night?” He murmured, his fingers gliding over her skin. “So wet you make a mess of yourself? Because I’ve been feeling guilty, Laura, so damn guilty about how hard you make me…” He spread her wide and lowered his head until she could feel his cool breath against her fevered pussy. “Oh, fuck, you’re all slick and flushed and open.”
She was going to say something. She was going to try, at least. But then the broad, wet flat of his tongue slid over her, parting her folds further, massaging her with each languorous stroke, and all she could manage was a high, broken cry that made her slap a hand over her mouth.
His fingers dug into her thighs, holding them open when she would’ve slammed them shut. He dipped his tongue into her entrance, lapping up her juices in a wet, warm rhythm that might’ve been soothing if it hadn’t turned her blood to lava in her veins. And things only got worse when he replaced his tongue with his fingers, easing those thick digits inside her, his knuckles brushing a spot that almost made her leap out of her skin.
“God, you feel good,” he muttered, his breath coming in pants. “Gonna feel so fucking amazing on my dick…”
The words made her imagine that delicious stretch between her legs intensifying, made her dream up the feel of that thick, hard length pushing into her. And then his tongue found her clit, tracing slow, easy circles around the swollen nub, and every time he got to the left side her legs spasmed and wild pleasure bloomed, and fuck, he must have noticed, because he started licking just the left side, rubbing her with his tongue and stroking her tightening pussy until she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t—couldn’t—
The long, low moan she released was as uncontrollable as the mind-numbing bliss spiralling through her body. Laura came so hard, she almost forgot where she was.
While she caught her breath and gathered her wits, she was distantly aware of him moving. Of the slick sound of a condom rolled on, and then his warmth beside her again. Her limbs felt like liquid as he moved her, pushing her onto her side, pulling her into his chest the way they lay every night as they fell asleep.
But they weren’t falling asleep now. He pressed hot kisses to her throat, and Laura’s lust returned way quicker than her senses. She arched back against him, and without clothes between them his condom-clad cock slid over her pussy.
“Ohhh, God,” she moaned, rolling her hips again. “Samir. Fuck me fuck me fuck me—”
His hand caught her leg just above the knee, and then he parted her thighs, pushing her bent leg high. He pressed his lips against her jaw, his morning stubble grazing her skin. “I want to kiss you when I’m inside you.”
She’d never done it like this before, but she supposed she was too big for most positions. And the comforting feel of his chest against her back… yes. Yes. This was perfect.
Laura grasped his length and guided him to her pussy, anticipation fizzing through her like champagne bubbles. The blunt tip of his cock nudged its way into her slick channel, and a moan slipped from her lips.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice tender and pleading and thick with desire. The hand on her thigh moved as he twisted his hips, giving her more of his dick. She turned her head to look up at him as his fingers found her clit. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers, his stroking fingers sending spirals of pleasure through her. “My Laura. My love.”
“Samir,” she said, reaching back to run a hand through his hair. “I… I—”
“It’s okay.” He kissed her again, hot and slow, as his hips moved. As he ground into her, rubbing that slick, sensitive place inside, his fingers strummed her swollen clit. “Just love me like this,” he whispered against her lips. “Like this.”
And she did. When she came again with his name on her lips; when he held her impossibly close as he lost control; when he spilled into the condom with a moan torn from deep inside him.
She did.
Chapter Sixteen
“Are you sure this omelette will be up to Max’s standard?”
Samir leant against the kitchen counter as he whisked a bowl of eggs, trying not to look as besotted as he felt. “You know, Bianchi’s is my cafe.”
“And yet, I’ve never seen you cook.” Laura sat at the worn old table, biting down on a smile, eyes dancing, cheeks flushed. She looked—in a word—satisfied. He liked that look.
He liked satisfying, her too. In fact, once she was fed, he’d like to satisfy her again.
“You know I can cook,” Samir said, turning back to the oven. It would be harder for lust to overwhelm him if he didn’t look at her, right?
“What I know,” she said pertly, “is that Max’s omelettes have kept me happy for months, but yours are an unknown quantity.”
Hm. Apparently, the sound of her voice, combined with that attitude, did it for him just as much as the sight of her.
Interesting.
Resigned to his lustful fate, Samir allowed himself the luxury of meeting her eyes again. “Careful. You might hurt my feelings.”
She propped her elbows on the table, resting her face in her hands. He tried to avoid the swell of her cleavage, but… well, actually, no he didn’t. He didn’t try at all. “Oh dear,” she murmured archly. “I’d hate to hurt your feelings. You—”
Whatever the minx was about to say, it was interrupted by the obnoxiously low, rich rumble of an engine pulling into the driveway. Samir felt his brow crease just as an answering frown appeared on Laura’s face.
“Don’t get up,” he said. “I’ll see who it is.”
She ignored him, of course, rising with a soft groan and padding after him into the living room, whose curtain-covered bay windows looked out onto the drive. Samir pulled the cream fabric aside to find a huge, blue BMW sitting in the driveway. And then he heard Laura’s strangled intake of breath, felt her warmth slip away from him as she retreated.
“Get back,” she ordered, her voice clipped. “Now. He’ll see you.”
He dropped the curtain and turned to face her. “Who?”
But he already knew by the look on her face, by the colour of her skin, grey-toned and bloodless.
“Daniel,” she whispered. “Daniel’s here.”
Fury was such a cold word. Samir hadn’t always thought so—in fact, he’d never considered the word at all. Never found himself analysing its sound and texture and taste, or comparing it to the explosiveness of the emotion. But he was doing it right now because he had to concentrate on something to keep his sudden, burning anger in check.
Apparently, the knowledge that Daniel was within reach made his throttling hand really itchy.
But he couldn’t let Laura see that, not even a hint. So he sw
allowed down all of his rage and kept his voice calm and steady. “He knew you were here?”
“No,” she said, staring, wide-eyed, at the floor. As if searching for something. Her hands were cradled over her belly, her shoulders, always so proud, hunched protectively. “I—I only told Trevor and Hayley…” And then her eyes squeezed shut, heart-breaking resignation on her face. “Hayley. Fuck.”
He didn’t know how she’d react, but she looked so hopeless, so betrayed, so blindsided—he had to touch her. He approached her slowly, at first, and she watched him as if confused. As if she had no idea why he might possibly come towards her with his arms outstretched; as if he hadn’t held her against his heart every night since that awful phone call.
But then, when he hugged her close, she relaxed. He could feel her coming alive again, transforming from a cold, petrified creature to something warm and human in his arms. “Don’t panic,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
And then the knock came.
Samir hadn’t seen Daniel through the tinted windows of that ridiculous car, but from the sound his fists made against the front door, he was a big fucker. Then came his voice, smug and almost gleeful in its cruelty, threat creeping through each word on tiger-soft paws.
“Laura. I know you’re in there.”
Samir pulled back a little, looking down at the woman in his arms. He came face to face with the last thing he’d expected: not terrified tears, but icy determination.
“Laura!” More banging, even louder this time. “Open the fucking door. I have shit to do, you know.”
“With me,” Samir whispered, his hands sliding into her hair, his eyes catching hers. “You’re with me. You’re okay.”
She nodded, lips pressed into a fine line.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said. “Tell me what you want to do.”
“I’m thinking about Ruth.”
“Ruth?”
She gave him a shaking half-smile. “If Ruth were here, she’d go out there and tell him to fuck off.”
He traced the slight curve of that smile with his thumb, clinging to it, letting it stave off his worry. “Yeah? So what are we gonna do?”
The smile widened. “We’re gonna go out there and tell him to fuck off.”
It was only when Samir opened the door that Laura remembered she was still in her pyjamas. She hadn’t brushed her hair, and she kind of needed the loo—again—and Samir wasn’t even wearing a shirt.
But it was too late to worry about that, wasn’t it? Because now the door was open, and Samir was pushing Daniel back, back, back, giving Laura room…
And now she was outside, in the open, two metres away from her worst fucking nightmare, with Samir standing between them.
She hovered in front of the open doorway, her eyes on Samir’s broad back instead of the man opposite him. Her husband. Daniel.
God, she was going to kill Hayley. How could her sister do this?
“Who the fuck are you?” Daniel was demanding, his voice a shade deeper than usual. He always did that when he was talking to other men, men who intimidated him. Which meant that Samir intimidated him.
Good.
“I’m Samir Bianchi. Who the fuck are you?” She watched as Samir’s already broad shoulders seemed to grow wider, as he crossed his arms and settled into his stance like a bodyguard or something.
He would protect her. She’d known that, logically, but suddenly the reality of it filled her up and set her free. She could do this. Daniel couldn’t bully her into silence or threaten her into submission because the greatest power he had over her wouldn’t work anymore. His physical strength was officially contained.
And without it, what was he, really?
Cunning; that’s what. She remembered, her heart sinking like a stone, when he spoke again, his voice softer now. Hesitant, almost hurt, but brave. “I’m Daniel Burne,” he said. And then she saw him, saw his face as he searched her out over Samir’s shoulder. And he really did look like an innocent man coming to a terrible realisation. “I’m—I’m Laura’s husband.” His voice cracked a little on that last word. “Laura? Honey? What’s going on?”
She swallowed. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” His face sagged, hopeless and wan. “Baby—”
“Don’t talk to her,” Samir said. He didn’t sound uncertain. He didn’t sound confused. He didn’t even sound defensive.
He sounded bored.
Because Samir, she suddenly remembered, knew that a person could seem honest with every word and breath and beat of their heart, and still be a fucking liar.
She almost fainted with pure relief.
“Listen,” Daniel was saying, in his trying so hard to be reasonable tone. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what’s going on here, but this is my wife. She’s having my baby! You can’t stop me talking to her.”
Samir gave a weary sigh. “Laura, love?”
Her reply was calm and even, thank God. “Yes?”
“Do you want him to talk to you?”
She swallowed. “No.”
Samir shrugged. “Well, there it is.” Then he called to her again. “Do you have something to say to him?”
“I do.” She came closer, but not too close. Samir was smart enough not to take his eyes off Daniel for a second, but she didn’t want to complicate things by putting herself in range of his cruel hands. She moved until she could meet her husband’s eyes, twin jewels glittering in his deceptively calm face, promising retribution.
She was not afraid.
Much.
But more importantly, she realised that one day, she really wouldn’t be afraid. Not at all.
“You can stop pretending,” she said. “Or maybe you can’t. I don’t know. I’ve never really understood how your mind works, but I think you really commit to the lies, don’t you?” Her mouth twisted into something that felt almost like a smile. “I don’t like having you here, so I’ll be quick. Whether you sign or not, eventually, we will be divorced. And when that happens, you will owe me child maintenance.”
Daniel’s innocent expression crumbled like dust, replaced by an acid-sharp mix of hatred and disgust. “Is that how you got this poor fucker to sleep with you? Did you promise him my money, Laura?”
She watched Samir’s hands curl into fists, watched the muscles in his back tense.
“I don’t want your money,” she said, with complete honesty. “I don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t want you to be this baby’s father—I don’t even want your name on the birth certificate. But I will take your money if you make me.”
“You’re a manipulative, conniving bitch.” He said it calmly, his face smoothing into handsome blankness. The sun glinted off his auburn hair. It really was a lovely colour. And he really was so pretty, with those eyes and that smile and the jaw… And she’d be so very pleased if he fell off the face of the fucking earth.
“I don’t know what you’re doing with my sister,” she said, “but whatever it is, stop. Leave her alone.”
Surprise flitted across his face for a second. He hadn’t been expecting that. Probably because Daniel had never thought about anyone other than himself in his entire fucking life. He wouldn’t expect Laura to.
But he recovered quickly enough, with a burst of laughter. “Is that what this is, honey? Are you jealous?”
She steeled herself against the mocking words, the insinuations that always drove her off-track and into a corner, the way he corralled her so smoothly. “Listen to me. You will leave me alone, you will leave Hayley alone, you will leave my baby alone, or I will take you to court and demand everything you have.”
That got his attention. The words seemed to carve through that alabaster mask, revealing the truth beneath. The face she recognised, the one she remembered. The one she had nightmares about.
Oh, he was angry now.
“You think I want that bitch?” He sneered. “All she does is whine. And not half so prettily as you. Come home, baby
. Come home and I’ll forget her.”
“No. You heard me. Leave.”
His jaw tightened. His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing to snakelike slits. “It won’t change things between you and Hayley, you know. She doesn’t like you. I don’t even think she loves you.”
The words shouldn’t hurt this much. Not when she’d suspected that fact for a while now, every time her sister’s quiet spite and resentment flared a little brighter.
But they did hurt. Of course they did. Daniel knew they would.
He pushed his advantage. “Look, babe, you’re not thinking straight. You know you need me. You don’t know how to live on your own.”
God, how had she ever believed that? As if she hadn’t been a survivor since childhood?
But before she could respond, she heard Samir say softly, “Laura’s not alone.”
Which was a mistake. Daniel’s gaze flew to Samir, as sharp and vicious as a shark’s teeth. He stared at Samir, not at Laura, as he said, “This guy’s not sticking around, babe. Don’t be fooled. He probably has a fetish or something.” His lips twisted into a smile. “Soon as you drop the kid, he won’t be interested.”
“Laura?” Samir called.
“Yes?”
“Permission to beat the shit out of your husband?”
Somehow, in the midst of this horrible moment, she managed to laugh. Her giggle sounded like a curse word in church, and that didn’t help her composure. Her heart fluttered as she fought to swallow her chuckles. The tension caging her eased, even as she watched a flush of fury stain Daniel’s pale skin.
Oh, she loved Samir so much. So fucking much.
“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” she managed. “He’ll call the police.”
“Seriously?” Samir’s answer dripped disdain. “Wow. That’s embarrassing.”
Oh dear. The comment, or maybe the casual distaste with which it was said, pushed Daniel’s always-precarious temper over the edge. With a strangled roar, he lunged for Samir.
Biting panic ripped through her veins at the sight of her worst nightmare, her greatest fear, swinging at the man she loved. But then something strange happened. Even as she ran forward, the world seemed to slow down. Everything moved like beads of oil floating through water—except for Samir.
Damaged Goods: A Small Town Romance (Ravenswood) Page 12