Break The Rules
Page 16
Three dark haired boys and an ash blonde girl raced across the grass to pounce on a huge blue cool box like locusts.
"Hold it!" Bronte barked like a sergeant major on parade. "Hands washed before you touch food, please."
All four gave her a gimme-a-break-here-mom face.
Her raised brow was all it took for them to troop into the stunning villa.
Nico sprinted across the lawn with Sean bringing up the rear. "Gregorio said thanks for the offer of lunch, but he needs to make a call. He will join us later. What is the matter with the kids?"
Bronte poked him in his flat belly. "They've gone to wash their hands. You'd think I'd ordered them to clean the toilet with a toothbrush."
"I will check on them." Nico jogged into the villa.
The men wore knee length board shorts and T-shirts that fitted them like a glove.
T.C. took a moment to enjoy the sight of Sean's broad shoulders and those arms that bulged with muscles. Lord knew the man was stunning, even though he also looked hard and dangerous. She'd bet few people ever challenged him, except for her of course.
His lightning grin as his eyes watched her from behind his sunglasses told her he'd caught her open study. He dropped a hard kiss on her mouth before he sat next to her on the lounger.
When his hand rested on the bare skin of her waist, she jumped. "Your hand's wet and cold."
He pushed his glasses on his head and stared into her eyes. "You know what they say, cold hands warm heart."
"You'll disturb Eve drinking her milk."
Sean's gaze fell to the flushed cheeks of the toddler on her lap. "Looks like she's in a milk induced coma."
From her position of arranging picnic food on the table beneath a sunshade, Bronte's head lifted and she eyed her daughter. "I think she's going through another growth spurt because she's sleeping a lot. Let me take her."
T.C. shook her head. "She's fine where she is."
Sean's tawny eyes went all soft. "It suits you."
"What does?"
"Holding a baby."
She turned to meet his gaze, found hers stinging. "Maybe one day we'll get to hold one of our own."
Sean put his arm around her shoulders to draw her in. "Yeah. One day."
Since they were both focused on the child in T.C.'s arms, neither saw Bronte turn away and bite down hard on her trembling lip, or the emotions glistening in her eyes.
If anyone deserved a happy ever after, Bronte reckoned it was Sean and T.C.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
"Isn't this place amazing?"
Sean poured two glasses of Chianti from one of Nico's Italian vineyards and strolled out to join T.C. on the softly lit deck of their villa overlooking the Lake.
Resting her elbows on the wooden balcony and dressed in one of her floaty sundresses, she looked stunning. Rested. Her skin shone with good health and her freshly washed hair fell in a blonde river down her back. Her feet were bare.
He handed her a glass. "I think Nico wanted us to have our personal space away from the hotel and their villa. It's a beautiful spot."
She took a sip. "Can we come back again? Often?"
"As often as you like"
For three days he'd carried a letter in his pocket, just waiting for the right moment to give it to her.
"I have something for you."
Sean plucked the envelope out of his pocket and handed it to her.
He hoped to hell he'd done the right thing.
A slight frown creasing her smooth forehead, T.C. sat on the edge of a comfortable chair and opened the envelope.
She read it through once, twice, her bottom lip gripped tight between white teeth.
Nerves danced a jig in Sean's belly.
Eventually, she folded it and placed it in the envelope with great care.
By this time, Sean had decided he'd spoilt a perfect moment.
Her eyes clicked to his and held.
She tapped the letter on the palm of her hand and not once did she blink.
"You did this."
"Um—"
She tossed the letter onto the table and stood and got right up close and personal and all the while her eyes were like lasers on his.
Shit.
Her hands fisted on her hips. "You went to see them, didn't you?"
His brows rose. "I might have done."
"Why?" she barked.
"They were wrong to blame a child for an accident that was not her fault. They were wrong in their neglect of that child. I decided the time had come for them to step-up to their responsibilities."
She poked him in the chest. "You decided?"
He gripped her hand, that fingernail was sharp. "Yes."
"Who are you to decide?"
Their eyes clashed.
Then the fight went right out of Sean and he ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders and held her there. "I am the man who loves you, Theresa. I am the man who wants to be the father of your children. I am the man who will not stand by and see you hurt. Ever. I love you."
When she closed her eyes tight, his heart fell.
Maybe she wasn't ready to hear it, but he'd needed to say the words.
When her eyes opened, the look in them for him nearly brought him to his knees.
Her hands cupped his cheeks as that vivid violet gaze stayed on his.
"I love you, Sean," she whispered.
For a stunned moment he couldn't think, couldn't speak.
His heart beat so fast his whole world spun.
"What did you say?" he whispered back.
Now she stepped into him, hip to hip, and wound her arms around his neck.
"I love you. I love you. I love you."
T.C. had been kissed before, too many times to count, but who knew a kiss given and received in love was a totally different, life affirming, experience?
When he broke the kiss to hold her close, as if she was so very precious to him, her eyes stung. Honestly, these days her emotions were all over the place.
But then she blinked the tears away when she realized Sean's big body shook.
She shifted to look up into his face and what she saw there nearly floored her.
Omigod.
"You're crying."
He shook his head. "Yeah. It's the release of pent-up emotions. You've made me cry happy tears. I never thought—"
She ran her fingers over his cheek to wipe away a tear. "Thought what?" she whispered.
"After everything you've been through and after everything we've been through, I never thought I'd hear you say the words."
"I can promise never to say them to another man."
He had to laugh. "Thank God for that."
She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. "Take me to bed and make love to me, Sean."
His gaze searched hers. "Are you sure you're ready?"
"I feel fine. The doctor told me to follow my feelings. I'm following my feelings, Sean."
As they shed their clothes and stood naked before a huge bed, their hands were gentle as each stroked and explored the other. This was no rush to mate. This was a slow and easy seduction of the senses. When she ran her nails over his erect nipple, his whole body shudder made her press her lips to the spot. He shuddered again, so her tongue teased and licked. When she sucked and gave the nipple a gentle bite, she had to smile when he growled low in his throat.
Meanwhile, he filled his hands with her hair.
He brought it to his nose to inhale.
"You always smell amazing. I can never get enough of you."
In response, she ran her hands down his back, over the world's tightest ass and then explored the massive erection between his legs. His cock swelled in her hands as she slowly stroked.
"Keep that up and this will be all over before it begins." And with that, he picked her up and lay her on the bed.
"You don't have to be gentle or go slow, Sean," she whispered as he caged her with his big body.
His response was
to kiss the breath from her.
"I do. I want to go slow. I want to kiss you... everywhere."
"Sounds good to me."
She stretched her arms above her head and let him have his way.
He pressed tiny kisses on his way down her throat, between her breasts, lower until he reached her navel.
For some reason he marked her low on the belly with a hickey.
Dirty boy.
But when he placed his shoulders between her legs to feast upon the very heart of her, T.C. found she couldn't think at all as pleasure reigned supreme.
Dear heaven, the man could play her body like the most complex musical instrument.
He seemed to know exactly which strings to pluck, to lick, to suck to toss her into one screaming orgasm after the other.
By this time her trembling hands were in his hair to hold him closer for more, more, MORE!
Beneath him she lay all loose and limber with her legs spread wide.
He bit his lip when he rubbed his thumb over his marks upon her skin.
"Roll over," he said and positioned her upon her knees, her shoulders and arms stretched out on the bed.
"Hurry," she begged.
He didn't thrust hard, instead he took his time to sink into her.
She was so hot and tight and wet and so ready for him.
His body ached to take her hard and fast, but although it made him whimper in his throat, he grit his teeth and resisted. He kept up a slow and steady, but relentless pace. His hands on her hips held her perfectly still. The fluttering of her muscles around his dick told him she was on the verge of an epic climax. The sting in his balls and at the base of his spine told him he was ready, too. But he held back until she pressed her face into the pillow to sob his name.
And once her body gripped his tight in spasm after spasm, he followed her over the edge as they fell together, two hearts joined as one.
Later, a replete and happy T.C. lay with her head tucked beneath his chin, her fingers gently stroking his flat belly. Their limbs were entangled. And he had his hand clamped upon her ass.
"Harry would have loved you," she said.
"Yeah? What was he like?"
"Naughty and nice. He had a great sense of humor."
The hand on her butt began to stroke her back from shoulder to hip. "Was he blonde, like you?"
"No. A dark red-head. But I bet he'd have gone that lovely deep auburn as an adult."
Her sigh was sad.
"Did he have freckles?"
"Funnily enough, he didn't. Now I come to think about it, his skin was like Danni's. He had to be careful in the sun, but he went the color of pale honey. He was a beautiful boy."
After a silence that seemed to go on and on, Sean asked. "Was he into dinosaurs or Power Rangers?"
She laughed. "Dinosaurs. He could write his own name when he was four."
"Clever boy."
"He hated sums, but he could count out money without a problem."
"Do you have a picture?"
She nodded. "My grandpa filled photograph albums, but I haven't been able to bring myself to look at them."
"Understandable. Maybe, when we return home, you could choose your favorite pictures of him and have them framed. Maybe place them where you can see them."
She shifted to lean her elbow on his chest and peer down into his face. "Have you been talking to my therapist?"
His brows shot into his hairline. "No. Why?"
"Because that's exactly what she said."
His wonderful mouth curved. "I'm spooky like that."
Since she couldn't resist, she dropped a kiss on his mouth. "You're too clever."
The next thing she knew she was on her back and being kissed until she couldn't think at all.
His forehead on hers, Sean smiled. "I can never get enough of you. I love you, Theresa."
"My heart is yours, Sean," she whispered.
"And I promise to take care of it."
This is not the end... Read on for a sneak peak of No Rules... coming soon.
Chloe Rucker had to admit Nico Ferranti and his team at the Ludlow Hall Hotel and Spa knew how to throw an engagement party. The Grand Ballroom was decorated for fun and frolics with complicated gold and silver balloons and ivory floral arrangements adorning the centre of each table. The scent of the flowers was incredible. As was the noise from the band, which did nothing to alleviate the stress headache from hell.
She rose from the huge round table reserved for family. Across the table, her mother was deep in conversation with a guest. Then her eyes narrowed as she studied Chloe's face. She loved her mother to bits, but if she thought there was something wrong with one of her girls, the woman was like a dog with a bone.
Chloe's sister, Tanith, grabbed her wrist. "You okay? You look awfully pale and you've been awfully quiet, too. What's up?"
"Headache."
"Need a pain pill?"
Chloe waggled her clutch bag in her hand. "Got some. I'll be back in a minute."
As she turned, her mother lifted her brow in a silent query to Tanith and her sister mouthed, headache, in response.
Ordinarily, Chloe loved a good party.
But there was nothing ordinary going on in her life at the moment.
She'd messed up.
Big time.
As she made her way to the rest rooms and a few minutes of peace, quiet and tranquillity, Chloe wondered how the hell she had been so damn stupid to let herself be so effectively conned?
On the dance floor her half-sister Anastacia, and her fiancée, Italian soccer star, Olivier Conti, were forehead to forehead to a slow number. Bless them. She was so happy to have found Ana, someone Chloe knew she could confide in, but tonight was not the time.
She'd never rain on her half-sister's parade.
She'd made her own mess and she'd fix it.
Once she'd worked out a plan...
Mind busy, she walked straight into a hard chest.
Strong hands clamped on her bare shoulders to keep her steady.
"Mio dio. What part of no do you not understand?" the tone of his deep voice was a harsh growl.
Chloe stared up into dark eyes cold as ice. "Understand?"
Of course, she recognized him instantly.
Serge Morretti, billionaire playboy and often described as Sardinia's hottest tourist attraction and unquestionably the last man in the world she would have chosen to meet given her current goal of staying out of the limelight.
"Apologies, baby," his dark eyes now danced with a sheer devilment that made her knees weak. "I thought you were someone else."
"If you let me go, I'll go my way and you can go yours and avoid whoever it is you're hiding from."
"I am not hiding. I am keeping out of trouble."
He was?
That made two of them.
"With you being you, I'd have thought that was an impossible task."
He blinked.
His mouth twitched.
He smelled amazing.
Shame about the man-bun.
"Ah, you have heard the Morretti board is baying for my blood? Worry not. Except for a little distraction last night, this is me being a good boy."
"Hmm," Chloe said, determined not to respond to the wicked smile dancing in his eyes and around the edges of his firm mouth. "If this is what you're like being good, I'd hate to see you being bad."
"I am being so well-behaved tonight it is killing me. Particularly right at this moment. What is your name, bella?"
Chloe knew Serge Morretti thought of women as his own walking all-he-could-grab buffet.
Shame she wasn't on the menu.
Her body adopted the rigor mortis stiffness of a corpse.
Chloe's heart beat too fast.
Almost against her will, her eyes moved from his mouth to dark eyes that captured hers.
She bet her life that if the rumors were correct, Serge was a superb lover.
God knew, he'd had plenty of practice.
He sighed, an exclusively masculine sound. "I can only hope. You did not happen to see her, did you?"
Chloe shook her head, biting her lip at the hard-done-by look on his face. "No. What does she look like?"
"Psychotic and desperate."
Now she laughed. "What's her name?"
"I cannot remember."
"You're a man-slut."
He didn't even blush. "When I meet the right woman I will marry and settle down and have a family."
Her female snort of derision made his eyes narrow with a male interest Chloe had seen many times before.
"Let me go."
His smile went all lazy as his head dipped towards hers.
And she knew he was going to kiss her.
"Chloe!" A little hand tugged on hers. "Chloe! I need to go pee-pee."
Serge released her and took a step back.
Chloe blinked back to reality and looked down to find six-year-old Sophia Ferranti dancing a jig, her huge emerald eyes pleading for help. And since Sophia was one of Chloe's favorite people, she didn't hesitate to take her hand.
Serge did not look happy at the interruption, but it was probably just as well because she was in enough trouble as it was.
"Excuse me," she said and walked away.
She was so focused on the way ahead, Chloe had no idea Sophia looked over her shoulder to give Serge a fierce look and poked out her tongue for good measure.
It wasn't until they were washing their hands in the beautifully appointed rest rooms that Sophia spoke. "I love your dress, Chloe. You look like a model."
In the mirror, Chloe caught Sophia's sparkling eye. "Why, thank you. I love your dress, too. You look like a little angel."
Sophia's dimple flashed like lightning. "Who was that man?"
"No one. I bumped into him."
"He likes you. I can tell."
Chloe's brows rose. "Can you indeed?"
"He's a hand lingerer."
Chloe blinked. "A what?"
"It's what my Auntie Rosie calls a man who leaves his hands on a woman for too long."