Always (5 page)

“Did you hear my niece Carolina is now a representative in the House?” Enzo asked.

“How exciting,” her mom said.

Gina bit her tongue so hard she almost cried out. Her hand trembled as she reached for her wine glass. Dad stared at her, his blue-green eyes as frosty-cold as the bay on a winter day. He frowned.

“Exciting isn’t the word—“ Gina began.

“Gina,” her dad cut her off, scooting his chair back. “If you’ll excuse us, I forgot there’s something I need to talk to my daughter about.”

Gina placed her napkin on the table, deliberately moving slowly, not wanting to have this conversation. But she followed her father out. Enzo, Grandma, Mom, and Vincente all watched her. Let them wonder. As if some of them didn’t know, the bastards.

Her dad waited, pacing, in the living room. As soon as she entered, he shut the pocket doors behind them. He grabbed her arms, as if he wanted to shake her. His work–worn hands were rough on her skin.

“Have you forgotten? We both signed that document.” He pushed his hands away, flinging out in frustration.

“Forget? Like I could forget seeing you with that bitch Carolina.” Gina fisted her hands, like she had when she’d seen her father and Carolina all over each other ten years ago.

“Don’t talk like that. I’m still your father—“

All the rage she’d felt that day came back to her. Her face heated, her breathing felt ragged. “I wasn’t going to say anything. But what kind of father makes his teenage daughter sign a legal document swearing her to secrecy about his affair? What kind of corrupt people make a girl do that?” The DeGrazias, that’s who. Her own father. She’d been in the middle of her own high-school drama. Adding her father’s had only confused her more.

“I had to sign it, Gina. Damn DeGrazias.”

“You’re the one who had an affair with her! I should tell Mom and everyone. Not that I believe for a second all the DeGrazias don’t know it.”

“Carolina and her husband were too smart to let everyone find out. Your mother knows I had an affair. Just not who with. She forgave me.”

“You make me sick.” She made herself ill too, with the choices she’d made. And her mother was weak, in her own way, for taking Dad back. “You all do.” Gina waved her hands and shoved at the doors.

“You stay quiet,” her dad said as she ran out.

She pulled open the front door, grabbing her purse off the hook. She couldn’t be around anyone right now. She had to calm down. Why was she even here? Let the DeGrazias take what was left of her family—why should she care? She’d had her own life for years now, hardly ever came home. She shook her head while she walked up the block. When she got angry like this, she didn’t think clearly. Drawing in some deep breaths, she began to cool, her hands relaxing.

She reached the top of the block and turned. The city streets and buildings undulated on every side of her. The bay stretched, calm and blue, in the distance. Trees, lining the street, budded in pinks and whites, promised the coming spring. Cars, people, buses, yellow taxis sped through the crisscrossed thoroughfares.

She stretched her arms out wide before she let them fall to her sides. Home—this city was home. She loved it, it was in her blood. The scent of the pavement after a rain, the competing smells of the local restaurants and bakeries, the whir of the buses, the chatter of tourists and locals, the quiet of a Sunday morning walk, peeking in the back door of the shop, listening, sniffing the almond-y, coffee-infused air, seeing her father behind the counter, sneaking an extra cookie to old Cap.

Gina closed her eyes and hugged her arms to her stomach. Her dad had been her hero. When she was a little girl, he used to put her up on that old crate behind the cash register with a flourish, trusting her to ring up customers, showing her how to brighten someone’s day with a smile, a free cookie, a kind word. And then, one day, in a flash, it was destroyed, that bright picture. There had been signs, of course. But, as in her life since, she’d ignored them, wanted to believe men, people, had to be better than that. But they weren’t. She wasn’t. She’d wanted to believe life was miraculous, people helped each other. But that was her grandmother’s world, warm and inclusive. Gina’s world was cold and lonely.

D’Angelo’s Market—her grandparents’ shop—belonged to her and her brother Michael, by all rights. Grandpa Frank and Grandma Celeste used to tell her and Michael so when they’d sit on the couch together looking at old family photo albums. Gina wasn’t going to let the DeGrazias, or her father, take that from her. She might be lost, but she knew the value of her grandfather’s legacy. It might be the thing to redeem her, to bring her back to the world of her childhood, and the beautiful life she’d dreamed of at her grandmother’s knee as Grandma knitted and hummed love songs and lullabies.

Gina turned. Vincente’s house was in front of her. She had to stop his family, so she could get back hers.

Chapter Four

Vincente had said his goodbyes. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with Gina and her parents, but the tension between them was clear especially since she’d run out halfway through dinner after that private conversation with her father. And Vincente still didn’t know what she had against his family. Forget her.

He stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun blazed against the horizon, illuminating the city with fiery colors. Gina, in that red dress…He shook his head. She, like the sun, would burn if he got to close. But, damn, the heat felt good. Forget it. He was used to the cold.

He rolled his shoulders and strode up the street. As he unlocked the side gate at home, he stopped, sensing he wasn’t alone. He turned his head. Gina rushed toward him from around the corner. She got in his face and pushed him. He stood still, tensing and releasing his pecs. Her eyes showed hurt, not crazy or anger, and her hands trembled.

“Keep your family away from mine. I know what you’re up to.” Her voice cracked, as if she held back tears.

There wasn’t any point in saying anything. She wouldn’t believe him, no matter what he said, and he wasn’t going to get the truth out of her. Not yet.

“Do you hear me?” Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling in an erratic pattern.

He walked through the gate and down the path. Her footsteps clicked behind him. She grabbed his arm.

“Don’t ignore me,” she shouted.

“Everything okay?” Nico said from the side doorway.

Vincente clasped Gina by the waist, pulled her in front of him, and firmly, but not so he’d hurt her, pinned her arms behind her. She sucked in a breath.

“Lock up the gate and erase the footage. She was never here. I got this.” Vincente moved forward. Sometimes Grandpop checked the security footage. Vincente didn’t want Gina hurt anymore than she already was, and she might be if anyone else found out she’d been here. Gina locked her legs and refused to budge. She leaned back into him, wriggling. He kept hold of her wrists with one hand and smacked her ass with his other hand. Gina made a surprised sound. Her body softened just enough that he loosened his grip.

He wrapped his arm around her waist. She stilled. Her hair tickled his cheek. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “You want me to treat you like a child or a woman?” he whispered in her ear.

Her stomach contracted as she let out a breathy sigh. She swiveled in his arms and faced him. Her frown and stiff features told him she was still upset. She closed her eyes. “I get angry. It’s childish.” She opened her eyes. Her gaze searched his for a moment. She kissed him, almost frantic, moving from his lips to his neck to his ear. “I’m a woman,” she whispered between kisses. Her tone had softened, almost a plea for him to see her as that woman, not as the angry girl she’d acted like. She was all softness, yielding…He eased his fingers up her back, into her silky hair. Their kiss deepened. She nipped his lower lip. He gripped her head and ass and pulled her flush to him. As if from a distance, the gate clicked shut. Vincente ran his tongue across her lip. Her tongue darted out, sending him flying, like riding the crest of a wave. As quickly, he broke their embrace, took her hand and strode into the house. She kept up with him, following as he made his way through the kitchen and up the stairs.

When he entered his room, Gina tried to free her hand. “That guy—he’ll tell…” Her tone was laced with panic.

He grabbed her, shut the door and locked it. “No. You’re safe.”

She ran her hands over his chest. Finding the zipper on her dress, he tugged it down. Her fingers trembled as she undid the buttons on his dress shirt. He cupped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. She sighed.

“Just us,” he said. “No one else. This is between us.” He’d said it for her, but he needed to believe it too.

She stilled and searched his face. He kissed her neck then edged her dress off her shoulders, running his fingers down, following the path of the fabric as it moved off her soft, tanned skin. He swallowed. Beautiful. Gina was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. And she hurt. He saw it in her eyes. She shut her eyes. He turned, bowing his head. God, he wanted to help her.

She began to move behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, undoing his belt, button, and zipper. He finished taking off his shirt. Within moments, she pressed her naked body into his. Her softness on him, the way her hands rubbed over him, her cheek cradled on his back…He needed to be inside her, convince her only this moment mattered.

He took her hand. She laced her fingers in his. Turning to her, he brought her into a close embrace. He kissed her thick, coffee-brown hair, smoothed it back, and trailed his lips over her forehead, nose, cheeks, finally meeting her full lips. He couldn’t get enough of her, her lips, her ass, her breasts, her smooth skin and silky hair. Lifting her, he walked to the bed, sliding her on, never losing the heated contact with her.

She sat up, meeting him as he edged onto the bed. Her kisses made his brain slow. Or it was all the blood rushing to his other head. He grinned and grabbed a condom from his nightstand.

As soon as he had it on, she wrapped herself around him, devouring him with hungry licks and sucks along his neck. Their breathing sounded in his ears. Gina growled in a low, husky whisper and pulled him onto the mattress. He leaned into her, smiling through her kiss as she tightened her legs around him. She slowed her kisses as he caressed her sides. Cupping her breasts, he maneuvered his length onto her. She rubbed her wet, slick folds along his shaft. He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on Gina’s pleasure. When he began pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers, she moaned. He pressed his pelvis up, pushing himself into her moist, warm, tight depths. They both groaned.

Her nipples hardened under his touch. He rolled over, lay back, and eased her on top of him. She rode him, at first with slow, rocking movements. Then she sped, almost frantic, pushing his shaft deeper, as far as it could go. He made an appreciative sound and grasped her waist. Her breasts bounced, her hair flew wild around her flushed, beautiful face. He stared at her. She was more than beautiful—she was a goddess, an angel.

Her breathing dipped—she panted and then exhaled in a low moan. Her silkenness contracted around his shaft. She leaned closer and clasped his hands. Meeting his gaze, she slowed and exhaled again. Her body, slick and hot, rubbed against him. He squeezed her hands and gazed at her as he came. She smiled and ground into him. With a jerk, he spent himself in her. She sat up again, wriggling on him. He grasped her hips.

He blew out a breath. “Keep that up, we’ll go again.” He grinned.

She laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He propped himself up on his hands, to be closer to her as she sat on him. She leaned onto him. Hell, yes. He cupped her ass as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She ran her hands through his hair. Her breasts rubbed against his pecs. He began to harden again. He kissed her neck.

“I always keep my promises,” he whispered in her ear. He tossed the condom in the trash and grabbed another.

She put her hands on his chest, as if to push away, to climb off him. He held her tightly and ground into her. He hardened more with each of her wriggles and squirms to edge away.

“That’s what they all say.” With a turn of her neck, she tossed her hair back.

He wrapped one hand in her hair and cupped her chin with the other, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not ‘they.’ It’s just us. Right now. What happened before doesn’t matter. Only now matters.” He had to convince her, show her he was different.

She shook her head then tried to pry his hand off her chin. With a quick movement, he wrapped his arms around her, turned them both so she was under him, and pressed himself onto her. He kissed her until she relaxed again. He placed his palms on either side of her and planked up, so he could see her face better. Biting her lip, she reached down and grasped him. She stroked him, making him even harder. He watched her—her eyes closed, her lips parted, an intense focus and pleasure evident in her expression. Her hand swiveled over the head. His arms quivered.

“Vincente,” she moaned. His breathing sped. “I need you inside me, now. Now. Vincente.” Her breathing sped. Her eyes shot open and she stared at him as she guided him between her parted, trembling thighs.

He clasped her hands and pressed himself into her, kissing her. She filled him with longing and heat. She kissed back, each kiss a promise, a seal of affection and desire.

“Gina,” he moaned when he rammed himself into her. So hot, their slick bodies slid together—sparks shot off throughout his veins.

He raised himself up and pushed her legs toward the ceiling. She gripped the bed frame, as if she anticipated how hard he was going to pound into her. He slowed for a moment, so he could watch himself slide in and out of her wet rosiness. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he held on and slammed into her.

She cried out, panting, the rosy glow suffusing her entire body. He gripped her hips—she kept her legs in the air. Trembling, she wriggled. He thwacked into her, harder and faster. Her hands gripped the frame so hard her fingers paled.

“Vin-cen-te!” she cried out. She arched her back then collapsed into the bed. Her body shook and quavered. He pounded so hard, he couldn’t feel the gripping of her orgasm. This wasn’t about him, but her—making her come so hard and so many times, she wouldn’t remember her anger. He thrust deeper. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down his chest as he kept up a steady pace. Now his shaft responded to her contractions, pulsating, ready to come. He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. More time, he needed more time inside her, to give her more.

He opened his eyes. Gina’s eyes were closed, her head lolling, arms slack. He slowed.

“More,” she breathed out.

His nostrils flared and his body heated, as if flames licked from the inside. Grunting, he rammed into her over and over again. He ground into her—she was so wet he had to stay deep in her to keep from sliding out.

Her hair haloed around her beautiful face, her breasts, round and jiggling… “Now, come in me now,” she moaned out.

He jerked forward, coming in pulsating bursts. He gripped her hips and pushed as close as he could into her. Never could anyone come close to her—he couldn’t get enough of watching her, being inside her wet tightness.

She licked her lips, still panting. He smiled. Reluctantly, he eased out of her. A disappointed cry sounded from her parted lips. He slid next to her and caressed her, from her thigh to her cheek. She gyrated in a seductive squirm.

He quickly hopped up to take care of the condom. Easing back into bed, he started by kissing her again. He couldn’t go again—yet—but he could do something else for her. She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed against him. Her touch tingled through him. He moved his hand down to her slick lips and kissed his way to her round breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. With his fingers, he circled and caressed her clit while he did the same to her nipples with his tongue. The way she responded, arching her body into his, massaging her fingers through his hair, every tiny sound she made, pushed him closer to needing to take her again. But he knew it would be better if he waited. He focused on her and her pleasure. That was easy—watching her wriggle and moan, her face glowing and pleased, brought a wide smile to his face and expanded his chest.

She ground into his fingers and cried out. He slid a finger into her. Her inner folds gripped tightly on his finger as she came again. Damn, she had the wettest, tightest…a silken glove, made just for him. He was the luckiest man on the planet, that a sexy, smart, passionate woman like Gina wanted him, shared herself with him. He rested his hand on her.

She collapsed into the rumpled sheet. Tears coursed down her cheeks and her face began to twist in silent sobs. Shit. His chest tightened, the expansion he’d felt crushed.

He edged close and smoothed her hair. Kissing away her tears, he brought her closer.

“Gina? Talk to me.”

She sniffled and shook her head. Had he taken things too far?

“Can I get you something? Water?” He couldn’t stand just lying here, unable to soothe her. His shoulders tensed. With a gentle tug, he enclosed her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest. He pulled the blanket, which had gotten pushed toward the edge of the bed, over them. After he’d held her for a few minutes, her breathing steadied and she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head. Her sigh whispered across his chest.

“I hate you for being so sexy,” Gina muttered into his chest.