Authors: Melanie Harlow
“Uh…” At the sink washing his hands, Joey looked over his shoulder and met my eyes. I had to clap a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. “I forgot,” he said.
“What? What on earth has gotten into you two?” Joanna looked back and forth between us, scrutinized my neck for a moment, and shook her head. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.” She took the apron she was wearing and threw it at Joey. “Finish these up, the oil is hot. I always overcook them. And Tiny, why don’t you help me set the table?”
“I’d be glad to.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Joanna must have thought we were crazy. “Just let me wash my hands.”
In the bathroom, I noticed Joey had sucked my neck so hard a bruise had formed. I slapped a hand on it and laughed silently as I looked at my rosy cheeks in the mirror. After trying unsuccessfully to arrange my collar to cover the red and purple spot, I gave up and went back to the kitchen. When Joanna’s back was turned, I flashed Joey my neck and he burst out laughing. I slapped his shoulder and Joanna turned to us, rolling her eyes. “Honestly. We have company for dinner. Pull yourselves together!”
But pulling myself together was out of the question. Just watching Joey prepare Sunday dinner for his family was enough to make my legs quiver and my insides clench. Whenever he turned around and I got a glimpse of his gorgeous face, flushed with heat from the stove or maybe from what we’d done—I nearly swooned.
Had I never noticed the way he moved? Joey didn’t have Enzo’s height or lithe grace, but his muscular body brimmed with caged aggression, more feral than feline. Even doing mundane things like bending for something low in a cupboard or reaching high on a shelf, or moving from the stove to the icebox to the table, his physicality spoke volumes about the way he’d move when unrestrained by clothing or convention.
I lost track of how many times I licked my lips and crossed my legs, tight.
Somehow we made it though dinner, although I was fairly certain we weren’t fooling anybody. We sat next to each other, and neither of us did a very good job of paying attention to conversation. When we weren’t sneaking glances at each other or sharing secret smiles, we were just staring at our plates, grinning like idiots, and several times I caught both of us eyeing the clock, willing its hands to move faster so this dinner would end and we could be alone. I don’t think I ate more than three bites, although the food was delicious.
“Tiny, how old are you now, dear?” Joey’s oldest sister Therese smiled at me from across the table, which had been extended to accommodate all the adults.
“Twenty. I’ll be twenty-one next month.”
“And are you working or going to school, or does your father keep you busy at home?”
“Well, I’ve been working for Bridget at the store and I attended nursing school at the University of Detroit for a bit over the last year or so. I’d like to go back, if I can save up tuition money.”
“Oh.” She took another bite from her plate and chewed thoughtfully. “So you’d like to work a while then, before you have a family?”
“I’m sorry?”
Therese exchanged a look with Joanna. “Do you plan on having a family?”
Joey and I locked eyes for a second. “Uh, I… haven’t really thought about it. Not too much, I mean. My own sisters have kept me pretty busy.”
“Oh, they should be plenty able to care for themselves by now, shouldn’t they? You should start thinking about your own.”
“Therese. Leave her alone,” Joey scolded. “Tiny can make her own decisions.” He scooped another helping of roasted zucchini onto his plate and turned to me. “Can I get you some more?”
I shook my head—I still had a full plate of food.
Joey’s sisters exchanged another look.
“So, Joey,” Therese said. “Going back to Chicago now that Ma is settled at Marie’s, I hear?”
Joey sipped his wine. “That’s the plan.”
I set down my fork and picked up my wine as well.
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” Joanna piped up. “I’ve been trying hard to convince him to stay and run this place, Tiny, but he won’t listen to me. Maybe you’ll have more luck.”
“
Basta
, Joanna.” Joey’s voice held a warning.
She put her hands up. “Don’t get mad, I’m only saying it because I think you’d be so good at it. And it’s breaking Ma’s heart to have to sell.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and gestured toward the other end of the table, where Joey’s mother sat with the older adults.
“Nice. Pin Ma’s broken heart on me now, too.” Joey forked a rice ball with vehemence.
“Well, anyone can see she doesn’t want to give it up. It was her dream to run this place. And Papa’s too.”
He glared at her and she dropped the subject. But from that point on, something in Joey was less than it had been. He still smiled at me affectionately, and in his eyes was a promise of what was to come later, but I knew that he’d been bothered by the mention of his father. We hadn’t even spoken about what he planned to do with the information Enzo had given him. And what about Chicago? Would he still go? Dread settled in the pit of my stomach. I’d just gotten him. Would I lose him already?
Over cannolis and coffee, I brooded a little. As thrilling as falling in love was, Bridget and Joey were right—it left you vulnerable, unprotected. Had I offered my heart to Joey only to have it broken when he left? Was he still bent on seeking revenge for his father, or would I be enough to convince him to leave the past alone?
Then there was the other kind of danger—the kind that might occur once Enzo realized I’d been less than truthful about Joey and me. And even though I hadn’t exactly lied, I knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Fear seized me, and my coffee cup clattered against the saucer in my hands.
Joey put his fingers on my wrist, and I looked into his concerned eyes, which made me hot through the center all over again. Lord, when would his family leave? I was desperate to get him alone. At the same time, we both glanced behind us at the clock on the mantel. When we realized it, we shared a genuine grin, and my hands steadied.
And when his relative finally gathered their hats, purses, and children to leave, my pulse began to race.
Chapter Thirteen
Goodbyes in Joey’s family were endless. Endless! Just when I thought he’d hugged and kissed the last relative goodbye, there was another one standing with open arms. All of them hugged me and kissed my cheeks as well, and his mother made Joey promise to send me home with a big plate of food for my father and sisters. She and Marie’s brood were the last ones out the door, and she looked around longingly at the front room before going.
Her eyes were shiny with tears, and I understood. It must have been hard for her to move out, leaving all the relics of her past here. She pointed a finger at Joey. “You take her right home. I don’t want her father to think I don’t raise a gentleman.”
“Ma, for cripes sake.” Joey turned her by the shoulder and steered her out the door into the hallway. He looked back at me. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to see them off.”
Nodding, I watched Marie’s two young children scurry out after them, which left only Marie and I in the front room.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she called, securing her hat to her head. Then she turned to me, a smile on her lips. “He’s crazy about you.”
I dropped my eyes to my shoes. I’d worn my nicest ones, the black heels, even though they were a bit much for Sunday dinner. “Oh, I don’t know.”
She laughed. “Yes, you do. I could see it last time you were here, but today it’s even more obvious. I think even Uncle Manny could see it, and he’s half-blind!”
A smile took over my face. “Well, maybe we won’t have to hide it anymore.”
“Oh, I hope not. You’d be perfect together. Just don’t let him go running off to Chicago, for heaven’s sake. What’s that boy thinking? He should stay here. Then Ma wouldn’t have to sell this place.”
“We…we haven’t really had a chance to talk about that yet.” And I really wasn’t terribly interested in doing a lot of
talking
tonight.
Swoosh went my insides.
I crossed my legs at the ankle and stood with my thighs pressed tightly together, as if Marie could read my mind. On a small table to my right, the statue of the Virgin Mary eyed me suspiciously.
“He’s just always been so stubborn, you know. He gets an idea in his head and thinks he has to follow through with it, even if it’s the dumbest idea ever. And we all know he’s had plenty of those!” She shook her head. “
Madonna
, the things he put Ma through… Some days I know she’s just glad he’s still here.” She crossed herself and put her hand on my arm. “If he loves you, and I believe he does, then he’ll stop all that gang nonsense and settle down.”
“I don’t know that I’m—”
She waved a hand in the air to stop me. “Forget I said anything. Honestly, my mouth runs away from me sometimes. And I’m terribly emotional these days.” Dropping her hand to her pregnant belly, she laughed. “I fall apart at the drop of a hat. Just you wait and see—oh, for Pete’s sake, I’ll stop pestering you now—”
“Impossible.” Joey appeared at the door. “You’ll never stop pestering. But unless you want to walk home, you better go down and get in the car.”
“I’m going, I’m going. Good night!” She waved and disappeared down the stairs.
Joey shut the door after her and leaned back against it. “They know.”
I smiled. “They know.”
He reached into his trousers and pulled out the handkerchief with my lipstick confession on it. “I left this on the counter by mistake. Joanna found it.”
My eyes went wide, and I clapped my hands to my face. “What!”
Grinning ruefully, he said, “I was just so excited to get you alone, I thought I put it in my pocket, but I guess I didn’t. She gave it to me just now.”
“After showing the rest of your sisters, no doubt.” My cheeks were searing hot under my palms.
“No doubt.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Not at all. I want to tell the entire world I’m in love with you”—and here my breath stopped—“but not tonight.”
My insides went from simmer to full boil.
We’re alone.
Inside a heartbeat we lunged for each other, locking together from mouth to hip. Joey lifted me right off my feet, and I twined my legs around him. Walking backward, he tried to move us around the sofa and into the dining room, but since neither of us was willing to break off the kiss and look where we were going, we kept bumping into things. First we pushed the sofa and coffee table out of place. My leg knocked a lamp off an end table and his elbow nudged a painting of Jesus off the wall. We thumped the china cabinet and the contents rattled precariously.
We didn’t care.
Finally, we got through the dining room into the hall and Joey was able to walk forward and get us to his bedroom. He kicked the door shut with his heel as I cupped his jaw in my hands and kissed his top lip, then his bottom lip, running my tongue along them, sucking them into my mouth, rubbing my lips back and forth against them. “God, I love your mouth,” I murmured. “I can’t stop thinking about it. And your hands—I’ve never told you how much I love your hands.”
Heading straight for the bed, he crawled up on it with my arms and legs still wrapped around him. When he finally lowered his weight onto me, kissing me long and deep, I thought I would scream if I couldn’t have him naked, fast.
I tugged at his sleeves and he knelt, one knee on either side of my hips, to free his arms from his braces and wrest his shirt from his body. Then he grabbed his white athletic tank from the back and yanked it over his head as I watched, mesmerized by the rough masculine movements, the twitching muscles in his arms and chest, the way the lines on his abdomen undulated as he breathed. My fingers flew to them and I sat up, running my palms over his hot, tight skin. Grabbing his hips, I brought my mouth to his stomach and brushed my lips across it. Planting soft kisses on hard muscles, I placed a hand between his legs, thrilling at the feel of the bulge there. He sucked in his breath, and I looked up at his dark eyes and tousled hair, my heart pounding.
“Should we draw the curtains?” I asked.
“No. I want to see you.” He moved backward on his knees and stepped off the end of the bed. “Come here.”
I crawled to the edge.
He reached for me. “Stand up.”
I did as I was told, feeling the damp heat between my legs as I stood.
Taking me by the shoulders, he turned me around, and I felt his hands at the back of my neck and then working their way down the row of buttons to the sash at my hips. When the dress was loose, I slipped my arms from the sleeves and let it drop to the floor. I turned to face him wearing just my chemise, step-in, and black stockings rolled thigh-high.
The sight of him shirtless and hungry-eyed was too much for me to bear. I reached for his trousers. “Wait,” he said, grabbing my wrists. “I want to look at you.”
“I want you to do more than look.”
“I promise you, baby, I will. Raise your arms.” Reaching for the bottom of my chemise, he lifted the simple white garment over my head and set it aside. Then he crouched in front of me and pulled down my step-in. I held his shoulders and lifted one foot from them, then the other. But when I went to remove my stockings, he took my hands again. “Leave them on.”
I stood before him, naked except for my stockings and shoes. I’d worn less in front of another man, but somehow this felt like the most naked moment of my life. Every inch of my skin was sizzling as he swept his ravenous eyes over my body. The tension inside me pulled tighter. My nipples grew harder under his stare, and when he licked his lips, I felt a flutter between my legs as if he had licked me there.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, bringing his hands to my hips and guiding them to the bed. Then he dropped to his knees and slid his hands down my thighs, pushing them apart.
My mouth fell open.
Moving his hands to the small of my back, he pulled me toward him, closing his mouth over one breast. I inhaled deeply when he dragged his tongue around my nipple in lazy circles and flicked it with tiny strokes. When his teeth closed on it, I grabbed his head, filling both hands with his thick, wavy hair. Heat rushed my center, which was cradled against his stomach. “Now, Joey. Please.”
He switched his mouth to the other breast and ran a hand up my ribcage to the first, torturing me with his thumb and fingers in a way that made me pant.
Jesus, does he want me to beg?
Because I would.
“You’re making me crazy,” I whined, looking down at his lips closing over my nipple. Leaving the drapes open made everything he did even more arousing because I could see it.
“I’m just getting started.” His breath tickled my wet skin. I shivered at the cool tingle on my breast and the nearly unbearable hum between my legs. He moved a hand to the top of my thigh, his thumb brushing my sensitive outer folds, and then softly circling over my clitoris.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, yes.”
“Now lie back.” He brought his hands to my shoulders and gently laid me back. Standing for a moment, he leaned over me and kissed my neck, a moan rumbling from his throat. “Mmmmm, I can’t get enough of the way you smell.” He kissed his way down my chest, stopping to take each breast in his mouth again before continuing down my stomach. “Or the way you taste.” Planting a kiss on each of my hips, he licked a circle around my belly button before trailing his hot, wet tongue in a line straight south. “I want to taste you everywhere.”
He took a moment to slip my heels off my feet. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs again, hooked his arms beneath my thighs and pulled me to him.
When he put my knees over his shoulders, I flung my arms over my head.
At first, I felt only cool air at my center, and then warm air as he exhaled. My body was coiled so tight as I waited for his mouth on me I thought I might explode the moment I actually felt it.
I nearly did.
Slowly he licked his way up the silky wet seam at my center, and my legs trembled. When he reached the top, he lingered there and swirled circles with the flat of his tongue before flicking lightly with the tip. Then he did it again, and I felt the telltale tightening of my muscles in my lower body. I’d never fought an orgasm before, but now I knew the exquisite torture Joey had experienced in the pantry. Soft, tender strokes every which way, barely-there flicks that left me panting, loops and lines and curves…
Jesus, he could write poetry with his tongue.
“Joey,” I whispered. “Please…” But then I couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, because he chose that moment to take the tiny bud, tingling with heat, into his mouth and suck, and at the same time he slipped his fingers inside me. My heels dug into his back. My toes pointed like a ballerina’s. My hands flew to the bedcovers next to my hips, clawing them in tight fists. He pushed his fingers deep inside me and somehow twisted them to press upward on some magnificent spot I never even knew existed. Working me with both fingers and mouth, he brought me to a peak so high, so hot, so deliciously fraught with tension that I thrashed my head from side to side, my mouth open in a silent scream. When he moaned against my throbbing center, I couldn’t hold on any longer. Letting go completely, I was rewarded with an orgasm so powerful, my body went completely stiff with ecstasy as I yelled his name between gasps.
For a moment afterward, I didn’t move or speak or even breathe. Joey kissed each of my inner thighs before standing and removing the rest of his clothes. When I propped myself up on shaky elbows and saw him naked before me, I nearly cried with need to feel that body on mine. In the light of the setting sun that crept in through the open drapes, his skin was golden, and every muscle was etched in line and shadow. He had the kind of body immortalized in marble by Italian sculptors four hundred years ago.
Plus an erection that would rival the leaning tower of Pisa.
He picked up one of my legs, set my foot on his chest and removed my stocking. Then he kissed each of my toes, my instep, the inside of my ankle, the back of my knee.
Oh, dear God—how had I never imagined how good his lips would feel at the back of my knee?
He picked up my other leg and repeated the process.
I was shaking. “Joey, inside me. Now.”
He grinned crookedly. “You’re always so bossy.” Leaning down to kiss me, he hooked an arm around my back and dragged us up the bed. “But I’m going to give you what you want.” He stretched over me. “Just the way you want it. I promise.”
I felt like screaming at how good his skin felt against mine, how blissful his weight was on my body. Our lips and tongues molded, sucked and stroked, and my hands traveled all over him—his back, his arms, his face, his hair. His cock pushed into my thigh and I wanted it pushing into me. I scooted down, knees wide, putting him exactly where I wanted him.
“Tiny.” Joey braced himself on his hands above my shoulders and looked down at me with serious eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” I punctuated the words with kisses pressed to his chin, his jaw, his neck.
“I wasn’t planning for this, so don’t have anything to, you know…stop things from…”
“I don’t care. I love you, and I’ve never wanted anything more than this. We can be careful.”
“I’ll go slow.” Reaching between us, he guided himself to the entrance of my body, and I bit my lip. Would it hurt? I closed my eyes and willed myself to open up to him.
It’s Joey
, I kept thinking. The first couple inches slid in, tight and hot with friction.
Oh, God. More. Now.
I put my hands on his ass and pulled, panting with frustration.
Joey let out a strangled groan. “I’m trying really hard to be a gentleman here.”
“Fuck being a gentleman.” I opened my eyes and dug my nails into his skin. “I want you all the way inside me, and I want it now.”
At that his eyes blazed with heat and he rammed into me. I gasped and threw my head to the side, crying out at the sudden shock of being stretched so tight and filled so completely. He pulled out and then slammed into me again, hitting a place so deep inside I was rendered soundless, if not actually mindless. Then he slowed down, and with several long, deep thrusts, he taught my body how to take him in, how to surrender completely to being pushed to the limit.