Authors: Maggie Marr
Tags: #FIC027020 FICTION / Romance / Contemporary; FIC044000 FICTION / Contemporary Women
“I won’t have them disparage you. Disparage us. Disparage what I know to be true.”
“They’re not.” Aubrey reached out to his stern face. His eyes lit with the flame of desire and want and a protectiveness that said he would smash the world should anyone hurt her or Max. “I know and you know and Max knows the truth. Don’t do this for them, do this for Max.”
“Max?” Surprise filtered through Justin’s eyes.
“Once the test is complete, he’ll be in a strong position with all your brothers.” A chill raced through her with the memory of Anthony’s cool gaze. She’d not want Max ever alone with that heartless man. “He can assume his place in your family and there will be no doubt. Not in any of their minds.”
“But—
She pressed a finger to his lips, stilling all the words laced with anger over his brothers’ request. “Please. I’m asking you as Max’s mother. Do this for him.”
A deep shuddering breath. Dark gaze holding hers. A swift nod. A surrender to her request. “This is because you asked. Understood?”
A slow smile overtook her mouth. “Understood.” She sat on the bed and pulled Justin down with her. “Now that I’ve gotten what I want, Mr. Travati, what can I give you? No negotiation is complete without the exchange of consideration.” She pressed her lips to his neck. “You’ve given me something that I want.” She pulled his already unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders. Damn, those shoulders. Soft, golden-hued skin over thick muscle. She pressed another kiss to his chest. “What can I give you?”
She glanced up through her eyelashes at Justin’s ragged look. Her body tingled in anticipation. His hand clasped the side of her thigh and pressed up. He lay between her legs, and his sex, hard and needy, pressed against her. Desire coiled tight and rolled through her body.
“I can think of many, many things.” His voice was rough with want. He dipped his head, and his mouth was on hers, hot and full of greed. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, and a gasp came from her throat. He pulled at her lip and her mouth opened as his tongue pressed into her mouth and his hand lifted her shirt over her head. Her nighttime silk pajama bottoms were off her body in an instant and his finger pressed against her clit. Her body trembled with his touch.
She pressed up and rolled him to his back. Straddled his body. Her hands on his chest, her mouth still on his mouth. Why was he still dressed? She pressed her hands down and unbuckled his pants and pulled them over his hips. She leaned forward over him, her breasts just above his lips. She was wanton and free. Her hands clasped his sex and stroked down and back up while her gaze latched on to his. This time, Justin’s hips hitched upward with her touch, the muscles in his belly trembling. He leaned upward and grasped her left nipple in his mouth, sucking and pulling. She lost herself to the heat for a moment, then pulled away, her hands still stroking his shaft. She leaned forward and her tongue licked up the side of his cock. Another shudder trembled through Justin.
Her sex tingled. Desire flamed through her. To give him pleasure. To be wanted. To bring this man to the precipice and dance along the edge with him at her side. To stroke and suck and make him say only her name. To revel in the power of their desire together.
Pre-come was at the tip of him as she stroked her tongue up from the base and then licked the salty maleness from the head. She opened her mouth and grasped him, her lips suctioning around his sex. She stroked down, her mouth, her jaw, her throat opening to take all of him. She gently cupped his balls in one hand as she pulled her mouth up along his shaft, her gaze meeting his. Eyes dark and filled with lust, he watched her. His watching cause her body to tighten at the want in his eyes. Her nipples were pert and tight, and she took all of him in to the base again and pulled back faster, her hand stroking his cock, following her lips. Heat and suction and his thick male sex. Her body tightened with desire.
“Aubrey, oh, my God, baby, I’m going to come.” He reached for her as though to pull her away, but no. She wanted to take him, take all of him. She sucked harder, her movements faster. His hips rolled with her movements, and his control was nearly lost, his hands clasping the duvet and his hips rocking up. She grasped the muscles of his ass and pressed him deep into her throat, sucking while her tongue stroked him.
Salty and hot, Justin’s come pulsed down her throat. She did not release him but pressed him deeper into her. She sucked and pulled until his body trembled and trembled again. She slid her mouth along his cock, and with a final lick to the head of his sex, she released him.
His mouth was on hers and he was pushing her back onto the bed. “My God, Aubrey. My God, I love you.” His lips raced down her neck to her breasts, then pulled one nipple into his mouth while his fingertips found her already engorged clit and circled. He pressed hot kisses along her belly. He was between her legs, her knees on each of his shoulders. She tightened in anticipation, with want. His tongue flicked out, and with the lightest feather stroke pressed to her clit.
“Justin,” she yelled, the sound of want in her voice.
He pulled his tongue away from her sex.
“No,” she wailed. He was a horrible tease. She’d pleasured him and she wanted him now, she wanted him deep inside her. She wanted his mouth on her. Again his tongue gently fluttered over her clit while his fingers pressed slowly in and out of her. Her breath was short and fast, her body squeezing around his fingers, pulling them into her. She pressed up, seeking the heat of his mouth, the pleasure of his tongue.
Her gaze caught his. One wicked eyebrow lifted, and she clutched the duvet with her hands. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes as he moved forward and he took her deep into his mouth. Her body flamed and he kept stroking his tongue over her clit, sucking and pulling and circling until she was over the edge. Her body thrashed as she fell, orgasm after orgasm rolling through her, each crashing into the next until a deep tremble took her over the edge.
He pulled his mouth from her and above her now, he was hard. She clasped his cock with both hands, steered him toward her entrance. She needed him deep inside her. Wanted the pressure of his body on hers. He leaned forward, his gaze on her sex and his as he pressed into her. Slowly. With reverence. Again his eyes were on hers. Her heart … this feeling … as though she was not one but two joined together. The pleasure. His stroke long and slow, solid and deep into her body. Rolling with him. She clutched the muscles of his arms. She held tight and fast as they both shot upward into the nighttime stars.
*
The paternity test at the doctor’s office took ten minutes. Then Max and Justin dropped her at the penthouse and disappeared, claiming they had “guy stuff” they needed to complete. Aubrey was good with that as she could use the downtime. She’d retreated to Justin’s room where she now lay on the plush bed after dozing for the past two hours. The scene at dinner a couple of nights before had exhausted her both emotionally and physically. She couldn’t shake the fatigue and low-level nausea. She blamed it on the exhaustion inherent in traveling and was accepting that she simply wasn’t a big-city girl anymore. If ever she’d been. She preferred the slow-paced quiet of Rockwater Farms. A quiet that Justin seemed willing to accept to be with her and Max.
The three of them.
She was trying to wrap her mind around the idea of them together. Yes, she wanted to be with Justin, and she wanted Max to be with Justin, and Justin seemed to want to be with both of them, but the logistics seemed like a nightmare.
“Mom?”
“In here,” she called. She got off the bed and walked to the door. She peeked out and Max stood in the hall. A smile split his face. He looked happy. An effervescent happy. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as though he held a secret he could barely contain.
“Can you come out here?” Max asked. “Dad has something for you.”
She lifted an eyebrow. Those two were up to something. There was a surprise afoot. Max seemed about ready to bust. She walked past him and out into the living room of the penthouse.
Hydrangeas. Loads upon loads of purple hydrangeas decorated the living room. Dusk was filling the space, and there was candlelight and flowers covering every surface.
She turned to Max, “Where is your father?”
“Over here.” He turned the corner from the dining room.
Her breath rushed from her lungs. He was gorgeous. As gorgeous as he always looked. Tall, muscular, with broad shoulders and black hair. His face could make angels weep from his beauty.
“What is this?” She spun and looked around the room. “I mean, it’s beautiful, but—
Justin stopped before her and he dropped to one knee.
Oh. My. God. She couldn’t breathe. The air was stuck in her lungs. Her fingers tingled and she pressed her hand to her chest.
Justin pulled a square box from his pocket.
“Aubrey Lynn Hayes”—he opened the dark velvet box where a ring with a gargantuan stone shone in the candlelight—“will you be my wife?”
“Yes, oh, my God, yes!” There was no doubt, there was no fear, there were no questions, only the immediate response of yes.
His lips were on hers and he pulled her into his arms. He slowly pulled away and she held out her hand. He slipped the engagement ring onto her finger.
She turned to Max, who stood with that beautiful smile on his face.
Yes, this was what she wanted. They would make it work because the three of them were together. They were a family.
The arrogance of his brother shocked Anthony. Yes, as children they’d blindly followed Justin’s lead, but now they were grown men, each successful beyond measure. That Justin would shove this woman and her son at them as though Max were a true Travati heir without some sort of proof, when proof was so easily acquired, was nearly more than his tolerance would bear.
“Here is fine,” Anthony said.
His driver pulled to the curb.
“Two hours please.” Anthony opened the door and slid from the back of the car. The air smelled of dirt. An ugliness claimed this street. Why did he come here? Because the choice had been taken from him. Shelly was gone and her grandmother was here. The woman refused to move. The homes that had once housed working-class families were nearly all in disrepair. He remembered this street. Stickball on the blacktop. Running through sprinklers in the front yard. Red cherry-flavored Popsicles dripping down his chin on long, hot summer days.
This was the street of his childhood. He walked over the broken sidewalk, past the gate, and up the steps. Mrs. Bello’s yard was well kept. No weeds. Flowers bloomed in the beds. The white house with green trim was spotless since he’d had the painters sent over last week. He climbed the stairs and noticed the rail shook. He’d send a handyman tomorrow. Couldn’t have Shelly’s grandmother falling down the stairs.
“Anthony!” She smiled as she opened the door. “I didn’t expect you today. Come in—just finished baking a tea cake.”
His heart warmed. As hard and as cold and as relentless as he might become, Mrs. Bello always made him smile.
The tiny house was warm. He listened for the sound of air-conditioning, but there was no whir. Was she cold or did she not want to spend the money? He turned and she stood before him in a sweater, in the middle of July. Money wasn’t the issue then. Age.
“Sit, Anthony. Sit.”
He did as he was told. She carried a china plate and teacup to him in unsteady hands. He held himself back. His natural instinct was to jump up and take the task from her, but she wouldn’t let him. He’d tried many times before. She still didn’t know who was paying her gardener and her maintenance man and the nice people who came four times a week to check on her and do the shopping and cleaning. His response to those questions was that it must have to do with her teacher’s pension, a program that was put in place for retired teachers. He was the program.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bello.” He took a sip of coffee, and she settled into the chair beside him.
This room whirled with as many childhood memories as the street. Memories that bled into his teenage years. He and Shelly’s older brother, Vincent, as best friends, and then finally Anthony and Shelly. Memories of first grand moments and first times always swirled through his mind when he visited Mrs. Bello. Until the memories ended. He’d graduated college and Shelly had left. The wound still ached.
“How was your week, Anthony?” Her smile was soft, but a worry held in her eyes. Of course she watched the news and knew of the troubles that the Travati brothers faced. Even now on mute, the events in the world played across the flat-screen. The take-over attempt was in the rear-view mirror at Travati Financial. They’d secured the company; however, the scandal from the prostitution ring still hovered around them. The possibility of an indictment of Devon, or any one of the Travati brothers, lingered.
“It’s been a long week, but everything will be okay.” He reached out and grasped her hand, the skin faded and marked with age spots. She worried about him and his brothers, as she had worried about Vincent until his death, and how she still worried about Shelly. He was the only Travati that came to the old neighborhood on a weekly basis. She didn’t have anyone much anymore. Her two brothers had passed, and then her son, Shelly’s father. Then Vincent and Shelly’s mom had run off with a podiatrist to New Mexico, leaving both her kids to be raised by their grandmother.
No, all Mrs. Bello had left was Anthony and the occasional phone call from Shelly, but she didn’t talk much of Shelly to Anthony. Maybe she understood the pain that flashed through his eyes when Shelly’s name was mentioned. The confusion. The lack of understanding as to why she’d run and why she still hadn’t returned.
“How was your eye doctor appointment?” Anthony asked. He made a point to have all her doctor visits logged into his personal calendar. He not only asked Mrs. Bello, but he also followed up with the doctors.
“Good. My eyesight isn’t getting any better, but it isn’t getting any worse either.” She lifted her cup of coffee and took a long sip, watching him over the rim of her teacup. She was stiff, as though there was something on her mind.