Quiet Nights (7 page)

“When you look at me, you just want me.”

My heart stopped.

“What makes you think I don’t want you right back?”

Because… how could he?

“You don’t see a man missing an arm,” he said, taking a step toward me. “You just see
me
, and you wanna touch me.”

He had no idea how badly I wanted that.

My whimper came out low and desperate as he closed the distance between us, then slowly traced up my arm with his hand. When he reached my chin, he tipped my head back so our gazes were again locked.

“No one really knows me but you. No one sees me but you,” he whispered.

“What if you change your mind?” I couldn’t be abandoned again. Once by my family, second by various friends and boyfriends—even Britton Lassiter had played his part.

“I won’t.”

I swallowed hard. “Why now? Why the change?”

He palmed the back of my head before he bent and kissed my nose. “’Cause you want me so bad you’re gonna start sabotaging all my dates.”

It was not beyond the realm of possibility.

“So maybe you just take me like you said, and then everyone else will be safe.”

“Yeah, okay,” I murmured, giving in, my skin tingling everywhere he touched. “But I won’t, yanno, let you leave once we… once I… I couldn’t.”

“Good.”

“Okay, so, follow me home,” I said raggedly, my voice cracking. “Come get in my bed.”

He caught his breath and I held mine until he spoke again. “You don’t feel sorry for me, do you?”

“Why would I feel sorry for you?”

“Guys pity me. It’s why they fuck me.”

“It’s not,” I sighed, reaching for him, easing him down, closer with each passing moment. “You know me better than that.”

“I do,” he agreed before he kissed me.

It was gentle, tender, and I lost my mind.

I attacked him, mauled him, shoved my tongue in his mouth, sucked on his, tasted and licked, desperate to be closer, finally ending up plastered to his chest, hands in his hair, grinding against the thigh he’d wedged between mine. His body was so hard, his skin so hot, and I’d waited so long… I was ravenous for him.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, swallowing great gulps of air. “Why didn’t you ever say you wanted me this bad?”

“Because you would have never believed me until now,” I answered breathlessly before I recaptured his mouth, parting his lips as I kissed him again, deep and slow, taking my time as I hadn’t the first go-around when I thought he’d pull away at any second.

His moan was dark and primal as he clutched at me. He shoved me backward into the exposed brick wall, his hand on my ass, gripping, squeezing, and me struggling to feel more of him. I needed to touch him more, everywhere, and after tugging his shirt out of his pants, I yanked and pulled until my hands slid over his hot, sleek skin.

When I started fiddling with his belt buckle, he wrenched free, gasping, hand braced on my chest to keep me still, keep me from reaching him.

I was devastated. “You don’t want… you—Coz?”

The scowl, the one I recognized as a sign of annoyance, that I was talking too much, had jumped to the wrong conclusion, allowed my heart to start beating again. “Of course I want you. Everybody wants you.”

For one night, maybe, but I was too much trouble to keep. My life was far too wrapped up with
him
. No one could compete with Cosimo Renaldi. “I’m no good for anyone but you—you spoiled me for anybody else.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, and I could hear how rough his voice was, both of us still recovering from oxygen deprivation.

“Yeah,” I promised, putting my hands on his hips, my mouth dry just looking at his bruised lips and rumpled clothes, all telltale signs of being ravaged.

“So all this time, all I had to do was say the word, and you would have been mine?”

“Yes.”

He raked his hand through his hair as he stared down into my eyes. “For crissakes, Kelly, why didn’t you tell me?”

I tried to smile. “’Cause you weren’t ready, and like I said, you would have never believed me. You lost your self-worth with your arm.”

He took a breath. “I guess,” he allowed.

“Do you believe me now?”

“It’s not like that,” he said hoarsely, and the sound, throaty and deep, was so sexy. “I don’t trust other people but you—I mean, you’re what I know. You’re who I think of telling shit to, who I miss even when I’m busy doing something, and you’re who I want to roll over on top of in the morning.”

I had to concentrate to keep my heart in my chest.

“Every morning,” he insisted, leaning in, kissing me like I never had been, before him, devouring, our lips melded together, his tongue rubbing over mine, him holding me close, so tight that it would leave bruises.

I loved it, succumbed to the feelings of his ownership and dominance, and still the kiss went on, the sensations, the fireworks swimming through my veins back to my heart, making the love swell even greater with hope. His words had given that to me. He wanted me to stay, and that was what “every morning” implied. When he woke up, I would be there.

“You’re the only one I want to fuck me,” I confessed, and even though my words weren’t as eloquent as his, I saw the heat and hunger infuse his gaze.

“You’ve never bottomed?”

I shook my head.

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he whispered, lowering his face to mine, smiling as I reached for him.

“I don’t wanna do that. You need that to love me with.”

He arched an eyebrow as though I needed him to point out how cheesy that was.

“Just—”

“Dumbass,” he grumbled. “I’ve loved you since always.”

His words sent a surge of electricity through me, and the resulting tremble was impossible to hide.

“Liked that, did you?”

I nodded like an idiot.

“Yeah, so,” he said in his sultry growl, running his hand over the top of my head, fingers fluttering through my hair. “This is only a little longer than it was when we served.”

“You wanna talk about my hair?”

“No, I just—I don’t wanna make a mess of things.”

“Messy’s okay,” I teased, hand stealing around the back of his neck. “It’s why I have a white suit. No cum stains.”

“Oh for crissakes,” he groaned. “Can you be serious, please? What if—”

“There’s no ‘what if,’ there’s no ‘when,’ there’s no ‘stop.’ It’s just us being us, together, like we are now—quiet nights at home, just better.”

He scoffed. “You are awfully confident alluva sudden.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” I asked pointedly. “You just told me you love me. That’s my dream right there. And I know you, if you say it’s one way, it is.”

His eyes were so shiny as he stared at me.

“So since I trust you, and you told me everything I’ve ever wanted to hear… what other way would I be but ecstatic and confident?”

“You’re right; you be confident. I like you like this.”

I was sure I was beaming at him.

“But how could things be better than they are now?”

I laughed at him. “Well, for instance, wouldn’t it be better with you buried to your balls in my ass?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he finally answered before grabbing my hand, turning, and nearly jerking me off my feet. “That would be. Come on.”

It was a big fat turn-on watching the man I loved hunger for me and want me back. I would follow him anywhere he wanted.

A couple of minutes later, as we walked toward the town square, I glanced over at the ancient mangrove tree that the small coastal community was named for. There were, of course, many of those trees around, but that one was special. I had never seen one before I arrived and had been impressed when Coz first pointed it out.

During the holidays, the tree was covered in lights; it was decorated on other holidays, too, like Halloween, with pumpkins placed between the branches. It sat smack dab in the center of town and everyone who was new––

“Oh shit,” I gasped, stopping.

He turned to me, and it was nice that when he did, he didn’t let go of my hand. “Oh shit, what?”

“Your mother.”

He smiled warmly. “You’re carrying my jacket.”

“Yeah, and? How are you supposed to hold my hand if I don’t? There are better things for you to do with that hand than to carry shit.”

He snorted out a laugh. “You’re the only one I know who doesn’t give a crap how I would take that.”

“Because there’s only one way to take it. I want you to touch me.”

“Which I wanna do right now, which is why I already called my mother when I was chasing you down the street and told her that neither one of us would be back and that I was going home with you.”

“You did?”

“I did.”

I was absolutely charmed by that. He’d told his mother, simply confessed that which had ended everything with my biological family. “What—” I coughed. “—did she say?”

“She said it was about fuckin’ time.”

I was stunned. “Your mother swore?”

“No, my mother didn’t swear!” he yelled. “It was hyperbole to prove a point!”

“What point?” I asked calmly.

“That apparently everyone but you and I knew about this and thought it was a good fuckin’ idea.”

“Yeah? Everyone? Like for certain your mother?” Because she was the most important, after him. “You’re positive she liked the idea of us?” How amazingly wonderful would that be?

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure? She was happy?”

“She is.”

“Mia’s gonna be pissed we didn’t tell her.”

“We didn’t know,” he murmured, lifting my hand to kiss my knuckles.

“I knew.”

“Next time, share. Actually, no, there isn’t going to be a next time. Once I’m in your bed, you’re not getting out.”

I stopped walking so he’d have to as well. “That’s it, huh? You’re just moving in?”

“I have a crappy little apartment that I hate—would living with me be so bad?”

“Of course not, but come on… you don’t even know if this is gonna work.”

He squeezed my hand tight while at the same time I put my other one on his cheek, caressing him.

“This has already been working. It’s been five—almost six—years already. This is happening. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” I conceded as he pulled me close. “I do.”

I kissed him breathless, and when he had to pry me off so he could breathe, it clicked in my brain that he needed to get me off the street before I begged him to take me right there.

“Nobody’s ever wanted me like this,” he said when we started walking again.

“Of course not,” I agreed. “I’m the only one for you.”

“You don’t––” I heard the hesitation infuse his voice. He was a worrier, my man, and of course we were to that part of the program. “––I mean, you don’t think we’re changing things too fast, do you?”

“I dunno?” I replied instead of answering.

He was clearly deep in thought, not even paying attention to where we were going as I steered us down a side street that would lead to my house. I needed to shock the worry away and get back the guy who wanted to do sexy, dirty things to me.

“Maybe we are moving too fast,” I mused, dropping his hand, putting space between us. “We should date instead; go slow like you were telling Hutch,” I finished cheerfully.

“Fuck,” he groaned, retaking my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Really?”

I shrugged, smiling at him.

“We both know we’ve been dating since you moved here. We just didn’t recognize it.”

“Yes, dear,” I agreed.

“We belong together.”

Just as long as we were clear.

I
TOLD
him filthy things on the way home: things I’d done, chances I’d taken, how wild and promiscuous my past was. I knew why, of course. Because I wanted him to think that sex was no problem for me, that I was experienced and kinky and could rock his world.

By the time we got to my front door, he was laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I snapped, shaking as I tried to open it.

“You manwhore,” he said, cackling. “Are you done telling me how deviant you are, or should I hear about the time you fucked the varsity football team in high school?”

It wasn’t funny. I was a textbook case of once the family was gone—meaning home and security—I’d tried first to drown myself in sex, since that’s what I’d given the parents and sisters up for, and second looked for a knight in shining armor in every loser I crossed paths with.

It was a damn inconvenient time to have an epiphany. “Oh shit,” I groaned as Coz took the keys from me, opened the door, and shoved me through.

Locking the door behind him, Coz hung my keys up on the hook right beside it before flipping on the lamp. I was surprised by his expression when he rounded on me.

“You just figure out that Britton’s been playing the part of a villain all these years for no good reason?”

I could only stare at him.

He took his jacket from me and laid it across the back of the couch before reaching for my face.

I leaned into his hand, closing my eyes with the swell of emotions coursing through me.

Easing me close, he tucked me against his chest, stroking my hair as we stood there and breathed.

“You’ve told me that story about Britton and how you realized years
later that no one rides in and saves you from your life,” he crooned,
tipping my head back so he could see my face. “But did it ever occur to you when it was happening that you heard words or intentions that were never actually there?”

“Not until just right now,” I admitted.

“I think the reason Britton never showed that day was because what you heard and what he said were not the same thing.”

I had wanted to be white-horsed so badly that I’d created the whole scenario in my head.

“Not that he didn’t wanna get in your pants, and I have no doubt that he told you what you wanted to hear,” he assured me. “But now you’d know it was bullshit when it came out of the man’s mouth.”

Yes.

“But back then, you took it as gospel.”

Dear God, I had. “How could I have been so stupid?”

His laugh was deep and resonant and I liked the sound. “You were just a baby. You were only eighteen—what the hell did you know about anything?”