Phantom's Baby: A Mafia Secret Baby Romance (Mob City Book 3) (24 page)

B
reathe
.

One … one thousand.

Two… … two thousand.

Three … … … three thousand.

I hold every breath a second longer, each time dropping a little deeper into my trance.

Breathe
.

Koh Samui is not Alexandria, not by a long shot. That’s not even nearly the best thing about it. It's not East Coast, either: it's not unbearably hot in the summer; it’s not horrendously icy cold come November. Apart from a little rain (okay, a lot rain) from time to time, it's damn near paradise. I mean, it's East Coast
somewhere
, but I sure as hell prefer living on a tropical island off the coast of Thailand than in a barely heated slum apartment with my violent father, or on my best friend's couch.

Besides, most important of all, it's home. At least, it is for now – and you know what? I don't see myself leaving anytime soon. Sure, I can be happy anywhere in the world as long as Val and Kitty are by my side; but there's something magical about the sun licking your skin sixteen hours a day. Plus, waking up to the sound of waves toppling over against the sand makes it a whole lot easier to smile first thing in the morning.

It's a new feeling, all this – happiness, safety, comfort – and love. It doesn't matter that it's been eight months – when you've been poor for as long as me, it's hard to break out of that soul sucking mindset.

I still find myself counting pennies when I go down to the fruit market, by the little harbor, in the morning. I think the sellers are surprised at how good I am at haggling. I guess most Americans come here and get fleeced, even if they think they are walking away with a steal. Not me.

There was a time, not very long ago, when every last red cent counted. There were months when I had to choose between meat for the table and money for Kitty's formula. She won, every time. Believe me, when you live not just from paycheck to paycheck, but day-to-day, you learn how to cut costs like the best of them. If I ever get a job in a big business, I'll be fine.

So when the man says he wants thirty baht for a watermelon, about a buck ten, I still offer him five, even though I know it costs way more back home. He flips back with twenty baht, and after a lot of angry hand gestures, the realization eventually dawns on his face that I'm not messing around. That's usually accompanied by the sound of disbelieving yells in Thai to nearby fruit-sellers, and anyone else in earshot. They look back at him and laugh – a local getting taken for a ride by an American?

It doesn’t happen often.

I never could afford a car, not back home. Waiting in the icy rain for a bus that never comes gets old – fast. I know what you're thinking: with Val's money, who cares? You're right. I don't, not really. If I want I can buy a car every week for a whole year and it won’t make a dent in our joint checking account.

It’s crazy, right?

The rain's warmer here, though. You can stand in it with a bottle of shampoo sometimes and lather yourself up, and if you close your eyes you really can’t tell the difference between a cloud unloading on your hair, and a proper shower.

But still, it's nice not to have to wait. We don’t buy a car in the end. We figure there really isn't much need. Anytime you want to get somewhere around here, you just flag down a rickshaw, and a man with a broad smile will drive you down the coast road for fifty cents. There's something indescribable about a salt breeze whipping at your hair.

Then there's Kitty.

We might have to move some day, when she needs to go to big kid’s school. I know that's years away – that she's barely turned three – but you've got to be prepared. I want her to be around kids her own age. I want her to make friends in a way I never could. She'll never be one of those kids who show up at school with patched clothes. She'll never go hungry on her lunch period, or wait at the school gates until it's clear that dad's not coming to pick her up.

Val would never do that.

What if that means leaving the island? It's the only home I've ever known…

It doesn't matter
.
Cross that bridge when you come to it
.

Breathe
.

Three … … … three thousand.

Two … … two thousand.

One … one thousand.

My eyes flicker open, and Val's neatly trimmed beard is the first thing I see. He leans over with what smells like a cup of hot java in his hand, and a smile the size of Texas on his face. And still, the concern lingers in his eyes. It’s been there for months – a faint hint of worry that's the same every time.

It's like when he looks at me he doesn't just see his lover, and the mother of his child, he sees the girl he found tied to a wall in an Alexandria basement.

But I'm not that girl anymore. I was, but not for months now. That girl's gone – washed away by the sea breeze and the salt sea. This girl has a golden tan and a bright white smile.

"How did you sleep?"

I know what Val's asking. He's not asking if I needed to wake up to pee at two in the morning, he wants to know if the dreams have come back. They plagued me every night for months. Sometimes, the only thing that made them go away was getting Kitty to climb into bed between us so I could feel her warmth by my side. I know I shouldn't do things like that, letting her see her mama as anything but Superwoman, but she was my rock for so long, it's a hard habit to break.

The dream is the same every time. Or I should say it was, because it's gone and it isn't coming back. I sense Anatoly creeping in the shadows. I don't know how it's him, but I do. Maybe it's a mother's intuition, maybe just common sense.

His hands are as dark and as inky black as the deepest night. He looks at me, but I don't see eyes, just an eerie red light. It's like the gateway to hell. I know why he's here: to take Kitty, to steal her away from me.

"Like a baby," I grin, blinking back the memory of my night terrors. Terror. That was the right word once, but now I'm so relaxed that the muscles on my face take a lot of prodding before they scrunch up into a knowing smile, "just like I have been sleeping
every night
for months now."

"Hey!" Val raises his hands and sways backwards, pretending I'm about to slap him. He pouts.

"I'm just –"

"Worried about me," I groan, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I know. But seriously, Val, how long do you plan on trying to keep me wrapped up in cotton wool?"

"As long as it takes!"

I'm just winding up to storm right out of there when I see the grin that's hiding on his lips. "You're messing with me, right?"

He looks down and flicks a piece of fluff off his stomach, deliberately stretching out the silence before he replies. I know what he's doing, because there's no fluff. How could there be? He's not wearing a shirt…

"Maybe," he shrugs, "maybe not. What's it to you?"

I stretch my neck from one side to the other and then hop out of my cross-legged stance, rising nimbly to my feet. Eight months of hot weather, and all the time in the world for yoga and meditation means that I'm more than comfortable with a long silence. It's my turn to leave
him
hanging. I meet his eyes, and watch them flicker as they rake across my body.

"I think," I say in a voice that's barely more than a throaty whisper. "The question should be – what's it to you?"

I take a step forward, heading off his reply. Val's eyes widen, and I see the faintest outline of a bulge in his board shorts. It's enough for me to stifle a grin. I know he loves it when I wear my yoga shorts. I get it. It's too damn hot here to wear anything longer, so they only cover my ass – barely. It's no surprise that out of all the choices on sale in the huts by the beach, these are the ones Val came back with…

"What –. What do you mean?" He croaks.

I take another step forward, until I'm close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body – even through the muggy warmth of an island morning. He smells salty, as if he's been for a swim. I resist the urge to bend my lips to his skin and dance my tongue across it to taste.

Behave
.

Val's bulge grows.

"Oh, I don't know," I say in a husky drawl. "Sure would be a shame if I instituted some kind of point system…"

He licks his lips. "A point system –?"

I rest my hand on his torso, and almost whip it back. His skin is hot to the touch. He's burning up with desire. I close my eyes and breathe in that strong, salty scent once more.

"Yeah, Val. I've been thinking. Every time you ask me about the dreams,
I'm not having any more,
I get a point."

"A –?" He croaks, as if all conscious thought deserts him. He's staring at me with a hunger in his eyes, like a caveman. I hate what I'm doing to him, and I love it even more.

"I get a point." I confirm. I slide my hand down his side, scratching my nails across board shorts stiff with salt. He shivers.

"And what will you do with these points?" He whispers with his eyes closed.

I clench my legs together as a couple of ideas spring to mind.
Down, girl
.
You're supposed to be teasing him, not the other way round
.

It's hard, especially when he parades around without a shirt on all day. But this is my revenge. I scrape my fingers across his cock and leave it there. "Weeell," I say with a wicked smile on my face. I lean forward, rising up on the balls of my feet to bring my lips right in close to his body, into the crook of his shoulder and neck.

"That's the thing." I say lightly, “I’m kind of doing it now." I drop my hands to my side, and a tiny but audible hiss of air escapes Val's lips.

"What are you doing?" He groans. I can almost taste the desire radiating out of him.

I graze my cheek against his thick stubble, shivering as the heat between my legs threatens to overwhelm me. I whisper into his ear.

"From now on, every time you mention those dreams, I'm going to strip off –"

He nods eagerly.

"I'm not done. I'll strip off and parade around in front of you. I'll scrape my nails across your chest and my lips across your cock. I'll build you up until you're ready to blow, and…"

"And, what?" He moans hoarsely.

"I'll get up and go for a swim." I say proudly, clapping my hands together in a flourish. Val flinches at the sound.

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"No fair," Val mutters, his face turning pale as if he’s just heard he's lost a parent; in his case, losing just the one parent he cared about.

"It's fair," I smile. The grin barely hides my lust for Val: the way I want him to touch me; the way I want to feel his skin rubbing against mine; the way I want his cock to enter me, to stretch me, to test me.

He doesn't know I'm bluffing
.

"But just because I'm so nice, I'll give you a pass, just one."

I watch as the understanding blossoms on Val's face. It's slow at first, like the first tendrils of dawn climbing the far-off peaks of a white-capped mountain range, but quickly gathers pace. I press my legs together, riding the urge that is building inside me.

"You mean…" He croaks hoarsely.

If I keep this up he'll lose his voice
.

I sink to my knees, casting a quick glance to make sure our bedroom door is closed. It wouldn't do to have Kitty try and crawl in here. Not with what I've got planned. Val sees where I'm looking.

"She's asleep," he groans in a voice pulsating with lust. "I just checked before I came in."

I smile, and put my hands on his hips, tracing my fingers underneath the waistband. I watch Val shiver as they move, ever so slowly, until both of my wrists come to rest on his pubic bones. I can only imagine what he's thinking, with me looking at him from my knees with wide, hungry eyes.

"There's one last thing…"

"What?"

"It's a big one."

"Just tell me what it is," Val begs.

"I need you to promise you'll give this dream thing a rest. I'm over it, you understand? I have you now, and Kitty and I live in a tropical island paradise. I'm over everything that happened to me, so you can stop with all the worrying, okay?"

He nods quickly, his head bobbing up and down like a buoy in a storm. It's too quick. He'd agree to anything right now, I know it. The little head is controlling him, not his brain.

"Words, Val," I smile, lightly dragging my fingernails down the full length of his cock, still hidden by his shorts.

His thighs clench together. A burst of air blasts past his lips, pushing the words ahead of it. "I promise, Cara; I fucking promise, okay? I'll stop, please just –"

"That's all I needed to hear," I say, cutting him off and smiling as professionally as any receptionist. With quick, professional courtesy, I take hold of the cloth around his hips and pull his shorts down. He lets a long, deep breath flood out of his lungs as the shorts fall to the ground, and his cock springs free of the material that had trapped it. Every time I see it I marvel at how big it is; at how it can possibly fit inside me; but it does, and it will again today.

This time is no different. Val never disappoints.

I put my hands on his calf muscles and stroke the whole way up the backs of his legs. One of his huge, powerful hands settles on my head and he tangles his fingers in my hair. I feel, as he tugs at it slightly, a delicious wave of electricity crackle through my body. I love it when he pulls my hair.

I lower my lips to his thigh and kiss it.

"What do you want?" I whisper, breathing hot air onto his cock.

I know what he wants. He wants me to put my lips around it, select it, to suck it, to…

I was wrong.

He pushes me backwards, catching me as I fall so that I come to rest on the yoga mat I laid out earlier on the hardwood floor. "Enough messing around," he growls, and then he's upon me. He presses his lips against mine, kissing me, taking my lip inside his and dragging his teeth across it. His fingers scratch across my body, his palm kneads my ass.

"Fuck," he says, pulling back. The heat of his body on mine is overpowering; I want him inside me;I want to curl my legs around his back and feel his weight as he starts to thrust.