Body of Trust: A Romantic Suspense Novel

by Jeannine Colette

  I bite my lip to hide my smile.

  “And mesmerizing,” he adds, and all breath is lost from my chest. What started as a kind comment, has turned sultry. The air stills as an energy lights up the room. It makes my heart stop as I try to control my heaving chest from pushing against his. From touching him.

  Slowly, he runs his fingers up my forearm leaving tingles in its wake. Our bodies touched when we were in the tunnels but this deliberate feel of his hand on my skin makes the hair on my neck stand on edge, and my body tighten with expectation.

  I momentarily close my eyes at the sensation that sends a chill down my spine.

  “You’re beautiful,” he groans, and I open my eyes at his heady tone. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me to say.”

  I lift my hand to his chest and feel his heart pounding beneath the black shirt. His skin is hot, his body strong, and his breathing stills as my hand runs up to his shoulder and back down.

  “It was. And, yet,” I look up into his eyes and let out a breath, “I’m glad you said it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you since the day we met.”

  There’s trepidation in his stare. And a yearning that’s fighting it. I know the feeling. I’m experiencing it too.

  His other hand grips my waist, and I lean into him. Our bodies are flush against each other as our eyes and lips line up close. So daringly close.

  I would say it has something to do with tonight’s events. Hell, maybe it does, but the truth is, I’ve been attracted to this man for a long time. Throw in some gunfire and a harrowing escape, and I’m putty in his hands. No, not putty. I’m fire. And I want to burn in a blissful rage of desire.

  I swallow hard and keep my focus on his lips. Those same ones that tempted me earlier this evening. That feeling of want is so tangible, I can taste it.

  His mouth parts, and before he can say a word, I rise to my toes and kiss him.

  He stills for a moment, his lips flattened against mine. I open my lips over his, willing him to do the same. With my palms on his chest, I can feel his body give in as his lips move over mine, slowly at first. My body is shaking with need, desperate for this to go further. His hands clench the fabric of my dress as he holds a part of himself back.

  My tongue slides against his, and his hands loosen their hold. I deepen the kiss, and a growl forms in his chest. All bets are off.

  He grabs my hips; his lips move faster.

  My arms are around his neck, pulling him into me as our tongues glide along each other. The strength of his tongue against mine is powerful and potent, sending an electric current through my body. His teeth bite my lower lip, and I feel it down to my core.

  This man can kiss.

  It’s not just in the way his lips move against mine. It’s the way he’s holding me, grasping at my skin, and how he strokes my hair, my cheeks, my body. Tingles run up my spine with every movement. Tingles explode when he backs me up against the wall. His body lines up against mine, and I can feel the heaviness of his arousal in the apex of my thighs.

  “Jesse,” I breathe as his hand rises to my cheek and caresses it. I fall into his palm and bask in the feel of his soft touch.

  “Tell me to stop, Amelia. There are a thousand reasons why this is wrong, but I can’t help myself.”

  “Don’t stop,” I say urgently. “You have to know that I feel it too. Whatever this thing is, I want it.”

  I run my fingers over his abdomen, and his stomach tightens at the touch.

  “You’re just saying that because of tonight. Tomorrow, when the rush is over, you’ll come to your senses.”

  “No. I’ve wanted you for so long. I need you, Jesse. Badly. Desperately,” I plead.

  He swallows as he looks down at me, clenching my body to his and speaking into my lips, “I would have died for you tonight, Amelia.”

  I believe him. I don’t know why he would feel this way, but I know his word is his bond.

  As he leans down and takes my mouth in his again, I fall into his embrace and kiss him with everything I have.

  The kiss goes on for moments.

  It lasts for an eternity.

  We’re a tangle of limbs and lips, and I still need more.

  His hands ride up the bare skin of my thighs and under my dress. A moan escapes my lips when he grabs my ass and slides his hands under the silk of my panties, gripping them firmly. I jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  He carries me into the kitchen, setting me on the large island in the center. My legs part, and he settles in the sweet spot in between them, groaning as our groins align. His thick erection presses against my core, and the thin fabric of my underwear creates a delicious friction that sends quakes through my body.

  I grab at his hair as his lips find my neck. My feet push his backside further into me, making his hips rock harder. I gasp in pleasure.

  “Touch me,” I beg, and his eyes glaze over.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Please. I need you.” My words are heady.

  His brows curve in, and his chest heaves as his hand glides over my sensitive clit, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure.

  “I’ve dreamed of you doing this.” The admission leaves my lips. I would be embarrassed, but I’m too engrossed in the feeling of his lips and hands and the way his fingertips are building a blinding orgasm in me with the simplest of touches.

  He pushes my panties to the side and lets his fingers glide down my slick folds. My head falls back as he glides a finger inside my core, making me gasp. His thumb presses against my clit, and I jolt back to him, my eyes finding his determined ones as I pant at the intensity.

  “If only you could see yourself in my arms. You’re breathtaking as you come apart on your own terms. Watching you like this makes it all worth it.”

  “Jesse,” I cry out as the tension in my core builds. I grip his strong shoulders, needing support from the onslaught of pleasure rippling through my body.

  Higher and higher, I climb, the feeling intensifying when he kisses me, holding me with his mouth and coaxing my arousal.

  I breathe into his kisses, inhaling his sweet words of how amazing I am. How beautiful he’s always found me. At least, that’s what I think I hear because I’m in another world. One where a gorgeous man is bringing absolute pleasure to my body. My orgasm rushes through me like a bolt of lightning. I call out his name again and clasp on to him so hard that my nails dig into his skin through his shirt.

  The feeling is so powerful, and I see light … everywhere.

  It’s real. Almost too real.

  “Fuck,” Jesse says, removing himself from me and running to the window.

  I have to get my bearings as I come down from my orgasm. I blink rapidly as I adjust my vision to confirm if what I’m seeing is really what I’m seeing.

  There’s a car outside with the headlights shooting into the house.

  “Get down,” Jesse says, pulling me off the counter and onto the floor.

  I’m a panting mess, and I’m not too sure if it’s because I’m frightened again or because I just had a blinding orgasm.

  “Amelia, you have to listen to me and do as I say.”

  For the second time tonight, I fear for my life. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Don’t be. Everything is okay. You’re safe, but I need you to leave. Right now. There’s a back door. Run outside and hide in the bushes until I’m gone. You have to promise me to hide and not be seen. Once the car leaves, you get on the road and walk. You’ll know where you are. You can make it to your parents’ house. Stay on the main road but in the shadows of the trees. Do not go back to Villa Russo.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Please, baby. Trust me.”

  His eyes plead with me, and I have no reason to fight him. Especially when we hear someone shaking the knob on the front door.

  Jesse kisses my forehead and pushes me toward the hallway. Wit
h one last glance at him, I follow the hall to the back of the house and let myself outside. I don’t know where I am, but I trust him with my life.

  The thick, unmanicured shrubs on the back of the house are wide enough to conceal me. I kneel down and hover in between them, staring at the stars in the sky and wondering why in the world I had to leave.

  Jesse and the mystery intruder are inside for a while. My heart beats so wildly in my chest that I can feel it in my temples, banging like a fierce drum. My palms are sweaty, and I wipe my head and try to think of what the hell is happening inside.

  I want to run, but he said to wait. I’m antsy. Despite being outdoors, I feel trapped in the bushes, and what I’m doing here is all so damn confusing. The feeling is too much, so I crawl under the bushes and toward the side of the house, where I can see the road. He’s right; I know where I am. I’m still on the hill, close to the harbor, and only blocks from my parents’ house.

  There’s a black car in front of the house with the lights on.

  It’s getting cool, and I shiver in the night air. I hear the front door slam shut. Two men exit the house. From the silhouette, I know which one is Jesse. The other man is a stranger to me. No one in my life is as tall and thin as him.

  More words are said between the men as they walk to the car, but I can’t understand them. The conversation is brief before they get in the vehicle and drive away.

  Something about the stranger’s arrival leaves an unsettling feeling in my stomach. A moment ago, I felt sure in Jesse’s arms. Now, I have the distinct feeling of wrongdoing.

  I wait until they’re well out of sight before getting out and walking toward my parents’ home. In the shadows of the trees, I walk briskly.

  With each step, I think about everything that happened tonight.

  I was frightened.

  I was amazed.

  I was protected.

  I was lied to—I’m now sure of it.

  Jesse Grant knows more than he claimed he did, and he’s keeping it from me. He broke a promise, not twenty minutes after making it. The feeling is quickly morphing from confusion to annoyance to anger.

  I continue to walk, constantly looking back. The entire time, I wonder if Jesse is pretending to be someone he’s not.

  Chapter Four

  “Where are you going?” Gia asks when she sees me sliding my heels on.

  “Work.” I fasten the strap while seated on my bed. Correction: my childhood bed. I haven’t slept here in years, and yet I have found myself in this room for the past three nights.

  “Dad asked for you to stay here.” Gia pounds her foot on the carpet. For a twenty-year-old woman, she certainly has the adult tantrum down pat.

  I rise from the bed and look at my reflection. The circles under my eyes are dark, and my skin is sallow from lack of sleep. “He’s not here though. Is he?”

  “That doesn’t matter. He’s the leader of this family, and what he says goes.” Her brown eyes narrow.

  “I’m an adult woman with her own apartment and a career to tend to. I don’t have to listen to my father. Especially when he’s been missing for over forty-eight hours.” I know my tone sounds anything like the woman I am stating to be. Turns out, bitterness has seeped through my pores, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

  “He’s not missing. He’s just away!”

  I bite my lip from saying too much to Gia. While I’ve been reeling over Friday night’s events, I’ve also been consoling her from fearing the worst. She’s more in the dark than I ever was, and I’d like to keep her there.

  Thoughts of what might have been if she and my mother had arrived on time are what keep me up at night. That, and the undeniable feeling that everyone around me is keeping secrets.

  “I’m sorry, G, but I have to get to work.”

  She storms out of the bedroom like a petulant child. “Mom!”

  With my black hair tucked into a ponytail, I give a final look. Tired brown eyes. A bitter pinch to my lips. Not my best look, but it’ll do.

  When I returned to my parents’ house on Friday night, my mother came rushing to the door with her arms shaking and tears bubbling from her throat. She was frightened and deliriously relieved at the same time.

  The questions immediately started pouring in, and I did what I could to ease her mind without giving too much away. While I’m hurt and confused about Jesse, I still can’t shake his urgent plea for me to not tell anyone what happened that night.

  Despite all my mother’s questions, turns out, she’s not as forthcoming with her answers. As soon as I asked my own questions, the conversation shut down. All she’d talk to me about was my need to stay in this fortress on the hill, away from the whispers of everyone on the outside.

  Because after that moment it’s like Friday night never happened.

  My car was returned home.

  My father vanished.

  There hasn’t even been a mention of the shooting on the news, which is odd for a borough with a low crime rate. Events like this are sensational.

  “Amelia Grace Sorrentino, what is this I hear about you going to work?” My mother is at the foot of the stairs as I walk down.

  “I can’t call in sick.”

  “Yes, you can. Your father left explicit instructions for everyone to stay here.”

  “And where is he exactly?” I challenge her, letting the worry in her face twist into annoyance. Just like every other time I’ve asked, the answer is silence. “That’s what I thought.”

  “You ask too many questions,” she counters.

  “You don’t ask enough.”

  I should have known better than to follow Jesse’s orders to come here. Without a purse, wallet, or phone, I took the only option given. I should have hitchhiked my way to my building and secluded myself in the confines of my own home.

  “This isn’t like you. Since when do you not do as you’re asked? What am I supposed to say when your father calls?”

  “That I went to work at the job he said he’s so proud of me for having. This means a lot to me. I can’t mess it up.”

  “Your life means too much to me!” she states dramatically. “Imagine what I’ve been going through. First, I fear for your life. Then your father’s. Ten more minutes, and Gia and I would have been there. Our family is safe, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

  I pause, dramatically and then ask, “Are you saying that you think Gia and I are in danger?”

  She clutches the medallion around her neck and makes the sign of the cross in the air. “Heaven forbid. Of course not. Women and children are never involved in these matters. It’s code.”

  “And what code might that be?” I challenge with a lift of my brow. Her lips purse and push to the side. I know more than she’s willing to tell me. I know those men weren’t there for me. They want my father and Uncle Frankie. “The farther I can get away from this hill, the safer I am.”

  She leans back with a face of horror by my words. “You don’t feel safe in this home? We have cameras and a security system.” As I walk away from her, she follows me with an exasperated huff. “Do you know what kind of horrible things happen in those underground parking garages you use?”

  “I’m driving to the bus stop and taking public transportation to the city like I do every day. No one’s going to whack me in broad daylight.”

  “That’s not funny, Amelia.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be.”

  In the kitchen, I grab a piece of bread and place it in the toaster. My mother follows with her hand on her head. She hasn’t done her hair or makeup in days and has been sporting the same red velour jumpsuit since yesterday. For a woman who is trying her hardest to make it seem like the events of Friday night were merely an occurrence that shouldn’t be spoken of, her appearance shows it shook her. I just wish she’d let me in on what she knows.

  The doorbell rings, and she jumps in surprise. “Who could that be?”

  “Check the camera,” I suggest as my toast pops
up from the toaster.

  My mother shakes her hands in the air as she processes what I just told her to do. She takes her phone and opens the video app that connects to the alarm system. “It’s Sienna!” she says loudly with relief.

  I barely have the butter on my bread before Sienna comes bursting into the kitchen.

  “Why haven’t you called me?”

  “No phone, remember? Plus, I’ve been instructed not to use the house line.” I look for the one thing I asked her to bring. “Do you have my purse?”

  She waves a hand in the air, showing she has my bag that I left stranded at the bar at Villa Russo on Friday night. I look through it. My wallet and lip gloss are still inside, as is my phone, which is dead.

  “This is crazy. Amelia, you should just take the day and sit with your family. Wait until your father calls,” my mom begs with her arms splayed out on the tiled countertop.

  “Maybe when you explain to me why my purse was removed from Villa Russo before the police got there, so no one had proof I had been there? Or why it went to Uncle Frankie’s first before coming straight here?” I ask with an accusatory tone.

  Sienna grabs the piece of toast from my plate and takes a bite before plopping in the kitchen table seat and speaking with her mouth full, clearly not hearing or caring about the statement I just made, “All I keep thinking about is those horrible men and how they tried to kill our fathers. I mean, if I’d stayed a few more minutes, I would have been there too. I could be dead. I can’t sleep; I’m so upset.” She takes another bite.

  “I’m sure it’s been very traumatic for you,” I say sarcastically. “At least you have your appetite.”

  My mother walks over to Sienna and places a consoling hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, no one is going to cause the daughter of Frank Evangelista any harm.”

  “Clearly. Have you seen my escorts?” She waves toward the window, where a town car is idling in my parents’ driveway. “My guards are outside your door. Did your father provide you with an escort? I hope they’re cuter than mine. Could it have killed anyone to get a John Cena type?” she asks.