The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (24 page)

Lights played in his eyes and his thick dark hair curled tightly near the collar of
his t-shirt. Vincent placed the bowl of soup on the counter, moving closer, wedging between her legs. Mesmerized by his rugged handsome features, Tracy had no words. Her eyes fluttered as his fingers played up her shoulder with unbearable lightness. Her gaze fell to the stubble on his neck, longing coiled through her.

“You feel for me?”
he asked in whisper. The tips of his warm fingers dipped into the draped neckline of her sweatshirt, covering her heart with his palm.

Drawn to him like a magnet, s
he straightened her stance, lifting her chest. Her breasts ached with need, the tips pulled taunt agonizing against the fuzzy piling of her sweatshirt. She wanted him to touch her, to put his mouth on her breast, but he held steady. Tracy thought waiting would bring gratification, but it seemed more like torture. Forcing a small smile, she answered softly, “Yes. Very much so.”

“I feel it too.”
His breath fanned across her cheek, the elusive sweet scent drawing another zing to her center as he kissed the corner of her mouth.

C
autiously, he took more, parting her lips, opening and tasting, easing his way to the other corner. His hot breath surged unevenly, rugged and refrained, gradually slipping his tongue deeper. The long, unrushed intimacy of the kiss clouded her mind.

Tracy melted into the drugging
sweet taste of him, adjusting her curves to the hard, flat planes of his body. They molded together, tongues penetrating further with the soulful purpose of baring emotions. Vincent slowly and tenaciously took exactly what he wanted, her heart, and with great controlled determination. She trembled, knowing how incredible sex would be, erotic and sensual, possessing her one deliberate movement at a time. Tears stung the corner of her eyes from the raw sentiment sweeping through her.

His restraint rippled
through the ropes of his muscles, treating her as if she were a delicate piece of hand-blown glass. He pulled away dragging the wet kiss over her cheek.

“Please, Vincent.”
Her shallow breathing came in raspy pants. The soreness and discomfort would be worth the pleasure. She tugged him closer, threading her fingers into the layers of thick hair. “It’s okay. I don’t care how much my body hurts.”

“I just…I need to go slow,
bella.” He held back, carefully folding her into his arms, caressing her, reassuring her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His brief
pause exposed something, a vulnerability in his voice. Tracy wondered. Maybe he’s suffering from BHS too. She nodded mechanically, her cheek pressed to his chest. They stood there, cocooned in silence and ravenous need, petting and stroking, until their breathing regulated. 

“
Now, eat your pasta e fagioli.” The curve of his smile lifted against her temple. “So you can heal and I can ravish you properly.”

The pasta e fagioli was the most delicious soup she’d ever t
asted. As the afternoon slipped into darkness, the soreness magnified and Tracy hurt from head to toe. Vincent took care of her, reacting attentively to each whimper or moan. He was kind and considerate and sexier than any other man she’d ever met.

It seemed as though a
lifetime of conversation took place between them. She’d never felt so comfortable in her own skin around a man. Tracy kissed him and touched him without contemplation. She’d been naked in front of him, cried in front of him, wore not a stitch of make-up and didn’t even bother putting on a bra. But what she enjoyed most about Vincent was that he made her smile. Above all the aches and pain, she glowed with happiness and each time she laughed, his smile mirrored hers.

Vincent made her
a cup of lavender chamomile tea and they moved into the family room to watch a movie. A large sectional brought a quintessential warm and casual atmosphere to the theater-style room. He plopped down into the corner of the huge U-shaped pit and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

The chill of the sumptuous
brown leather sofa warmed beneath her body as she snuggled next to him. He grabbed a small throw pillow and patted his lap. Tracy laid her head on the pillow, hugging her arms to her chest and rolling to one side taking pressure off her injuries.

Fatigue set in
and each tense muscle began to dissipate. His fingers thread through her hair, gently manipulating them over her scalp. The sound of the TV droned in the background and her eyes drifted shut periodically.

“Sembri cosi` stanco,
bella.”

Her
heavy lids remained shut and a small sound of confirmation hummed in her throat. “Actually, I am tired. I feel like I got ran over by a truck. Plus I haven’t been sleeping.”

“You shouldn’t fall asleep yet.”

It took every ounce of her energy to open one eye. “I’m so tired all of a sudden.”

Apprehension pushed a deep groove between his brows.
Her eyes fluttered shut again. The warmth of his hand trailed down her arm and jiggled her fingers. “Don’t go to sleep.”

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she smiled. “
The movie is making me sleepy. You should talk to me.”

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“You should talk about dirt.”

Laughter erupted, filling in the quiet room with the sound of his amusement. His abs flexed and shook beneath her head. “Dirt? That’s the f
irst time a woman has ever said that to me!”

“Si`. You are very passionate about your dirt.” Tracy giggled opening her eyes. “It’s a total turn-on. I could listen to you talk about dirt forever.”

His head dropped back as he let out another round of hysteria. “Where have you been all my life? A beautiful, amazing woman who likes the earth’s riches as much as me.”

Tracy flushed hard
. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth and she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “I don’t have a thing for dirt, you big goof. It’s just…you get excited and happy. It’s very sexy.”

“
Ahh, so the truth comes out! You like me! Not the dirt.” Playful banter heated the small space between them and color burnished high on his nose and cheeks. “You might enjoy the conversation even more if I talk about wine.”

He drown
ed his grin behind the rim of his glass of wine. Tracy’s smile faded into a drowsy gaze, peering up at him through the deep red liquid swirling in the clear glass above her head.

“
Wine is a foreign language to me. I mean seriously…the wordage and description alone could be a college major. For such a tiny ball of fruit growing wild on a vine, it has a bold intensity to its short life.”

“You can’t learn about wine in a classroom.”

“I could.” She snickered at her inner-geek. “The textbook is my home-away-from-home.”

“The effort you put into the description of aroma and flavor, helps you understand and retain your impressions of different wines.”
He followed the curve of her face with the pad of his thumb. “You build a memory bank of the smells and their beginnings. That way, you’ll be able to identify subtle hints of jammy fruit flavor or strong vanilla or various oak or even the earth itself.”

“
So the words help you focus on hidden gems that make up the wine.” Her arm draped above her head, settling into the hard terrain of his body.

“Si`. You learn to appreciate the complexity of the wine.”

Sheer exhaustion exposed itself in a huge yawn, but enthusiasm danced in her voice. “Vincent, will you teach me?”

His
jaw shifted parting his lips. She watched keenly as his tongue skimmed along his back teeth. “Si`. I will teach you.”

CHAPTER
TEN

“Well? How was he?” Anticipation bubbled over in JC’s tone.

Tracy stepped gingerly into a pair of thick
lined leggings, easing the waistband over her bandage. “How was he, what?”

“Oh come on, Tracy!
” Disgust on full display. “How was he in bed?”

“What? Who?”

“Don’t give me that shit. Mom said you and the guy have a total thing going on.”

By thing her mother meant chemistry. “His name is Vincent.
”

“Whatever—”

“And we haven’t had sex…yet.”

JC squealed at the indication there might be a good dosage of sex on the horizon.
“It’s been so long, you’re practically re-virginified. Are you nervous?”

“
Thanks a lot! I am now! Actually you would’ve been proud of me.” Tracy tapped her finger to her chest. “I flirted.”

“Hold on…let me pick myself up off the floor. You
were flirting? This is serious!”

“I’
m telling you—” She searched her mind for a good analogy. “Oh my God, do you remember that cat we used to have?”

“Yeah, how can I forget? I was the one standing there when that fucking hawk swooped down and snatche
d Miss Kitty right out of the backyard!”

Tracy cringed at the memory. Her little sister cried for weeks and refused to get another cat.
Ever. After watching their furry family pet fly off into the sunset in the talons of the hawk. “Sorry. But remember how she used to meow really loud and swish her tail and curl herself around our legs.”

“
Miss Kitty didn’t walk, she pranced.” JC corrected indignantly. “I swear that cat used to bat her lashes.”

“Exactly!
” Tracy nodded, slinking her body seductively, dragging the tips of her toes on the floor as she sauntered into the kitchen,

“If you even dare tell me that you meowed
or purred at this guy, I’m gonna come over there and bitch-slap you.”

“Shut up!
Of course I didn’t meow.” Both girls giggled into the phone. Tracy considered confiding in her sister about the whole Oh my God, Vincent issue, but opted to keep it to herself. “I couldn’t help it! My body had a mind of its own.”

“What is it with you and Italian men? You should
just move there. Buy a castle. Walk around like Miss Kitty all day. Wouldn’t that be the life?”

After recanting a short version of her fall in a rush of words,
Tracy lifted her shoulders in a sweet shrug. “I miss you.”

“I miss you to
o. Please be safe, no more falling or smacking of head in a foreign country.” Notes of concern stained her voice, for a minute. “And I expect you to call me when you get laid.”

“Will do.” Tracy stopped mid-stride tilting her head from side-to-side. “
I mean, if I do. When I do. Shit, you know what I mean. I gotta go, sis. I need to get my work done this morning, he’s teaching me about wine later.”

Tr
acy decided to stop by and have a conversation with Mrs. Giovanni. After a few hours of broken dialog, and wild hand gestures, she gathered that Mrs. Giovanni’s main concern was keeping the family name attached to the vineyard. She feared if things didn’t change, she would have to sell, leaving nothing for her sons. That and of course the melodramatic mention of My boys, they breaka my heart. All I want is for them to find a good woman and give me grandbabies. I pray for them every night. Tracy rose to her feet giving her a compassionate hug before heading to the vineyard.

Settling i
nto her office, Tracy opened her laptop and went to work. However, an hour later she had accomplished nothing, hypnotized by the view outside her window. She strummed her fingers on the wooden desk peering out over the villa on the hill.

“
Screw it,” she mumbled, collecting her laptop and walking out the door.

Exiting the
office she ran straight into Antonio, spilling his cup of hot coffee down the front of her royal blue shirt.

“Scusa. So sorry. I didn’
t know you were here,” Antonio rambled apologetically, rushing into his office.

“Shit. Hot, hot, hot.” Her shoulder
s curled inward, pulling the wet cotton from her chest. She bent, propping her laptop case against the wall. “I’ve been working at the Levi’s. Less distracting.”

He returned with a handful of tissue and reached
out to blot them to her chest, but before he could touch her, an explosive rumble came from over her shoulder.

“Don’t touch her.” Came a murderous
growl. “She is mine.”

Vincent grabbed his brot
her by the wrist and slammed his back to the wall. Tracy lurched, reeling back two steps. She felt a strange twinge of sensation, unsure if she should feel annoyed or elated Vincent deemed her to be his. However, her hormones seemed to be elated, shooting a zing of arousal through her, too intense for her describe.

“What is your problema?” Antonio struggled to get loose, shoving at Vincent.

“You will not touch her,” Vincent spewed.

T
estosterone-filled threats flew back and forth in Italian between the men.