Deceptive Desires (2 page)

She arched a brow. “I guess that makes sense. I just hope Cristiano doesn’t share the same view, or their sixty-percent chance will increase to about one hundred-percent.”

He wore a strange expression. “One can hope.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “You really hope they get divorced?”

Aronne’s expression closed. “I just want what’s best for everyone.”

“To happiness for the happy couple,” she said with a small hint of mocking. It didn’t make her proud to wish her sister would have a little suffering, but she couldn’t help hoping Margot really did get a dose of reality.

With a snort, he lifted his glass, and they drank again. Whoa, the room was feeling a little spinny, wasn’t it? She focused on the coffee table, reaching forward to put her glass down. It was time to stop the whiskey before she lost consciousness. She’d hate herself for losing a shot at being alone with the object of her adolescent lust because she passed out.

The glass rested on the edge for a second, before tumbling onto the floor. With a curse, she stretched to get it. Her center-of-gravity shifted too quickly, and she cried out as she started to fall. Once again, her companion rescued her, lifting her up to settle on the couch. With a start, she realized she was suddenly a lot closer. “Thanks.” Had the alcohol made her voice sound that husky, or was it his proximity, and his hands still on her hips?

“You’re welcome.” His lips twitched. “I think you’re also a little drunk.”

Molly nodded, and then giggled at the way the motion made her feel giddier still. “It’s probable.”

“Want to hear a secret?” He crooked his finger when she nodded again. “Come closer.”

She slid a little closer, bringing her ear near his mouth. “What is it?” she asked in a whisper.

“I think I’m drunk too.” He laughed. “I haven’t been this toasted since the year I lived in the frat house.”

Molly giggled. “Never. You’re so strong and stoic. Aronne Giannis, heir to the empire, would never get inebriated.”

“Apparently he would, under the right circumstances.” A shadow passed through his eyes before clearing when he grinned. “I’m impressed. You can still say inebriated.”

“I can still do a lot of things.” Molly blinked, wondering if that sounded as seductive as she thought it had?

“Like what?” His expression was full of challenge.

Spurred on by the liquid courage and the yearning for the kiss she’d been rambling about in her journal, she turned to fully face him and leaned forward to press her lips against his. The kiss was rather tame, but it still sent a spark through her. Lifting her head, she met his gaze.

“You can do better than that.”

Molly gasped when he cupped the back of her head and pulled her forward for a deep kiss. His lips demanded hers part, and his tongue slipped inside. Within a couple of strokes of his appendage, they’d gone beyond her previous experience. Part of her wanted to object, to end the kiss before things got out-of-hand. Another part of her wanted to see how far he would go, and the tiny functioning bit left of her brain knew things were already out-of-hand.

He kissed so well that she couldn’t help responding, determined to be a fast learner. Soon, they were almost devouring each other, and she gasped when he cupped her breast, thumbing the nipple. Her mind thought about stopping him even as she arched her back to allow freer access.

Aronne reached behind her to unzip her dress, and it sagged around her arms. With efficient precision, he slipped off the straps before touching her through the bra. Molly moaned as he cupped both of her breasts and stroked the nipples. He swallowed the sound by deepening the kiss as he moved his hands to take off the strapless bra, tossing it with reckless abandon.

Molly froze at the first touch of his hands on her bare mounds. She cried out when Aronne lifted her higher, breaking the kiss as he slid lower to take one nipple into his mouth. Sensations coursed through her, like nothing she’d ever felt, and she surrendered to them, letting the tide sweep her away as he explored her body.

At some point, she started touching him too, shy at first, but growing bolder with his encouraging responses. She touched his manhood gently, curious and a little alarmed by the size. The realization that he was planning to put it inside her made her shudder, but not entirely with fear.

It was a terrible idea to take Aronne for her first lover. She knew that. He was her soon-to-be brother-in-law’s brother. He was seven years older than her, and he thought she was out of college. If he learned the truth, he would be angry. Knowing she had to stop this, Molly put her hands on his face to urge him to look up. Before she could tell him her thoughts, his mouth parted, and she gave in to temptation by kissing him again.

She cried out with pleasure when his tongue caressed hers, while his hand moved between them. Aronne slipped inside her slick flesh to stroke her clitoris, making her almost scream at the unexpected onslaught of sensations. His mouth muffled her cries as he massaged her, bringing her to climax with just a few expert strokes. It was her first, and she trembled under the force. Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away—not at all sad, just a bit overwhelmed.

Molly didn’t protest when he shifted her onto his lap. Knowing she should stop it wasn’t motivation enough. Caught in the grip of feelings she’d never experienced, with the man she’d found attractive since meeting, she didn’t try to pretend, even to herself, she didn’t want him to take her virginity.

Aronne eased inside her, and she whimpered. He didn’t seem to notice the temporary resistance as he thrust in and out of her. His hand reawakened all the sensations it had before when he stroked her as they thrust together. It was completely different to orgasm with him inside her than it had been when he was stimulating just her clit. She tightened her thighs around his, tilted back her head, and bit hard on her lip to keep from shouting with satisfaction.

A moment later, Aronne thrust inside her once more, burying his shaft deep inside her, and giving in to his own release. He continued to hold her, staying inside her for a few more minutes before turning them sideways on the couch. She nuzzled against him, her mouth near his neck, and their legs tangled together. He brushed a kiss across the side of her head. “That was what I needed,
cara
.”

Noticing the slight chill for the first time since they’d come into the room, she shivered. A small voice tried to prod her to get up and go to her room. There was a good reason, but she couldn’t remember it as her eyelids closed. Before they drifted off to sleep, she was aware of him pulling the afghan on the couch down to cover them. She felt safe and protected as he tucked it around her.

Chapter Two

A cacophony of voices woke her. Blinking, disoriented, and with a killer headache, it took her a moment to realize she was curled up against a warm body. A warm male body, belonging to Aronne. Memories of last night flooded through her, but she had no time to process them before the yelling started.

Aronne jumped, apparently sleeping deeply. As soon as his vision cleared, and he saw both sets of parents, along with Molly and Cristiano, standing over them, he cursed. A second later, they were somehow both sitting, and he’d given her the lion’s share of the afghan.

Warren Powers looked like he was going to have a heart attack, and she was genuinely worried for her dad by the red stain on his face. That didn’t give her enough courage to speak.

“What the hell is happening?” asked Tracey. “Molly, has he hurt you?”

“No, Mom.” She cupped her head, wincing as their voices reverberated through her. Santo Giannis launched into a tirade in Italian, and she was glad she didn’t understand the language.

“How could you do this, Molly?” demanded Margot, tears falling from her eyes. “This is my night, and you’ve ruined it.”

“I doubt that,” said Aronne, sounding annoyed. “You’re still just as engaged, aren’t you?”

Molly frowned at how bitter he sounded.

“How dare you do this?” yelled her father. “Have you no decency, Aronne Giannis?” He turned to Santo. “Is this how you raised your son?”

“No,” said Santo, his expression grim.

“Hey, hold on. You’re acting like I raped her or something.”

Sophia Giannis clutched a tissue and dabbed her eyes as Molly’s mother demanded, “Just what do you call coercing a seventeen-year-old into sex?”

“Seventeen?” Aronne suddenly lunged from the couch, scooping up his pants and putting them on as he turned to confront her. “You’re only seventeen?”

Molly hung her head, reluctantly nodding.

He cursed in Italian.

“You despicable bastard.” Warren seemed on the verge of attacking the much younger, fitter man.

She made herself look up. “He didn’t force me to do anything.”

Aronne seemed stunned, and rage burned in his dark eyes. “She led me to believe she was much older.”

Tracey wore a severe expression. “Is this true, young lady?”

Trembling with fear, she made herself say, “Yes. I mentioned having finished school, and he assumed college. I didn’t correct his assumption.”

He cursed again. “I had no idea she was so young.” His gaze felt like it scorched her. “I have no time to play games with silly little girls.”

“You have to get married,” said Santo loudly.

Sophia nodded. “Of course. That will fix everything.”

“What?” asked Aronne and Molly together.

Her mouth hung open for a second before she closed it with a click. “We aren’t getting married,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Aronne.

Santo’s anger matched Aronne’s, and he seemed almost the same height as his taller son when he stiffened his spine. “You will do the honorable thing, or I will disinherit you.”

Aronne scoffed. “You’d destroy the company if you made Cristiano your heir. She isn’t worth that.”

Molly flinched at the way he said it. She’d known he would be angry, but she’d half-hoped she could persuade him to get over it. Of course, she hadn’t counted on them being discovered
in flagrante delicto
. Her vague plan had assumed they would be alone when he found out. The random thought that she’d remembered a little of the Latin she’d taken in high school flashed through her hung-over brain.

“You can put no price on honor,” said Santo.

After a second, he said through clenched teeth, “Fine. Disinherit me. I don’t care.”

“You’re going to marry her, or I will call the police. It won’t matter that she consented. In their eyes, this is statutory rape, and I suspect you’re too old to fall under the protection of Romeo and Juliet laws.” Warren’s unexpected contribution made Molly gasp.

“Dad, you can’t do that.”

“Not another word.” He vibrated with an anger she had never seen.

“I’m not marrying him,” she said again. “You’re acting like this is Victorian England. We did nothing wrong.”

“Wrong,
cara
,” said Aronne coldly. “You lied, and I foolishly believed you.”

Tears stung her eyes, and she looked away. It was nothing more than the truth. She had lied by omission to get a kiss from her crush. That it turned into something more was still her burden. “This is all my fault.”

“Yes,” said Tracey, eyes glittering. “You’re a whore.”

Molly gasped at her mother’s words. “I’m not a whore. I’ve never even had—” She broke off abruptly, realizing her confession of her previously virginal status wouldn’t help anything.

“
Porca troia
,” said Aronne, sounding like he was in pain. “You were a virgin.” He leveled the accusation like it was akin to committing murder.

Refusing to answer, she turned her gaze away, meeting Cristiano’s by accident. His sympathetic expression threatened her already tenuous hold on her emotions, and she swallowed thickly.

“You see!” Santo pointed at her. “She was an innocent. You will marry her.”

“Or go to prison,” said Warren, sounding firm.

Molly shook her head. “Stop this.”

Aronne’s expression changed from anger to something else. Defeat? His shoulders slumped. “Very well. I see I have no choice.”

What? He was agreeing with this madness? Molly pulled the afghan tighter around herself and stood up. “Are you all crazy? I’m not marrying him.”

Her father turned his cold gaze on her. “If you don’t marry Aronne, I’ll make sure he’s imprisoned for dishonoring you.”

She gasped. “You wouldn’t. Daddy, please—”

“Well, decide, Molly.”

Her gaze flickered between Aronne and her father, before touching on her sullen sister, and the irate mothers. Coming full-circle, she met Aronne’s gaze, and the naked contempt shredded her heart. Tears streaked down her face. She couldn’t let her dad put him in jail—clearly a plan Santo agreed with—but how could she force him to marry her? She didn’t want to marry anyone, even him.