by Tami Lund
Phoebe nodded. “Yeah. She said he called to taunt her. The guy sounds like a real tool.”
“Why’d she marry him then?”
“I asked the exact same question. She said she was young and naïve and didn’t know better. He swept her off her feet, and they had a whirlwind courtship and were married before she really knew who he was.”
“Smart of her to get out.”
Phoebe glanced around at the nearest diners and then leaned over the table. “Her ex is Gino Sarvilli. Do you know who that is?”
“Should I?”
She sat back in her chair. “I didn’t, until Margot explained. He owns Sarvilli Dry Cleaners. The largest dry cleaner chain in the Detroit metropolitan area.”
“Ah.”
“He was a guest at the last wedding I worked.”
“The one where the groom hit on you and the mother of the bride got you fired and then the groom was killed in a car accident a few months later?”
It was refreshing to date a guy who listened.
Wait—date? Were they dating? Did three dates qualify for that label?
Should she bring it up and ask? Or should she wait until later when—hopefully—he spent the night, or at least a few hours naked with her?
“Yeah,” she said, clearing her throat and resisting the urge to fan her face as images of what he’d look like without clothes popped into her head. “He was a close family friend, apparently. Sat at the mother of the bride’s table.”
Tony’s eyes widened, like she’d told him something fascinating. “No shit.”
Phoebe leaned forward and whispered, “Apparently dry cleaning isn’t his only business.”
“It isn’t?”
“Margot says he’s a crook and makes way more money than he says he does. Says he has a brother who takes all his earnings and invests them and hides it all from the government.”
“She told you that?”
“Well, she’d drunk almost an entire bottle of wine by that point. I doubt she’d have told me otherwise. I mean, that’s hugely illegal.”
Tony grabbed his water glass and chugged it. “Sounds like it,” he mumbled around a mouthful of ice.
“I guess that explains why she treated that detective the way she did. If she was telling the truth, he has good reason to hound her all the time.”
“I doubt she has proof,” Tony said. “So it’s stupid for the detective to harass her.”
“Maybe not, but if he hears it from someone who used to be on the inside, it would give him more motive to keep chasing after her ex, right?”
“I guess.”
Their meals arrived, and Tony ordered refills for both their drinks. The conversation moved to the food, and then to the band that took the stage a little while later. And finally, finally, the table was cleared, they were both done with their drinks, and there was no more excuse to avoid ending the evening.
Hopefully horizontally.
“We should probably go,” Tony said. “You have to work tomorrow, right?”
“I do,” Phoebe agreed, and soon enough, they were heading back to her place.
Where he tried to drop her on her doorstep with another chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Wait,” she said, grasping the front of his shirt. “Why don’t you come in for a nightcap?” That was code for let’s have sex, right?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Er…”
“Is it me?”
“Is what you?”
“The reason you won’t do anything more than give me a peck on the cheek. Because if you think I’m that kind of girl, rest assured, I’m not.”
“What kind of girl is that?”
“The kind who doesn’t want you to come inside and maybe check out how fresh and clean my sheets are.”
He blinked rapidly. “Did you just invite me to bed?”
She twisted her hand into the material of his shirt. “I did.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“I…”
“You’re giving me a complex.”
“Trust me, you should not have a complex. Under any other circumstances, I’d have had you on your back last night, if not the first night we met.”
“I want to be on my back. Well, maybe I’d rather you be on your back. I kinda like being on top.”
“Christ, don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?”
“Put images like that in my head. I’m barely hanging on here.”
“Well, let go and come inside.” She tugged and he stumbled forward into her apartment, reaching out his arms to keep himself from falling. The action sent him straight into her embrace. She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her face, planting a kiss on his lips before she could talk herself out of being so bold.
He pressed one hand to the wall while the other snaked around her waist, his palm on the small of her back, his fingers skimming the top swell of her butt cheeks. She moaned and he tilted his head, opening his mouth and deepening the kiss.
“It’s totally you,” he whispered as he trailed kisses across her cheek to her ear. Nibbling on that sensitive area of her neck, he murmured, “You’re fucking irresistible. I was an idiot for even trying.”
“Oh God,” she said on a moan, canting her head to give his lips more area to roam.
He leaned forward, pushing her back against the wall, and then moved his hand down, over her hip to the hem of her dress, slipping underneath and traveling north again, until he cupped her ass cheek, which was conveniently bare thanks to the cute little thong she’d donned in anticipation for exactly this scenario. Well, not exactly. She hadn’t thought they’d be practically having sex while leaning against the wall, barely three feet inside her apartment, but she sure as hell wasn’t complaining.
His fingers slid between her legs and she widened her stance. They brushed the satin covering her sex; she gasped and arched into his touch.
More, more, more.
He chuckled. She opened her eyes. “What?”
“I don’t think you meant to say that out loud,” he said.
“Oh.” She could feel her cheeks heating.
“It’s okay.” He moved both hands up to cup her breasts over her dress, holding them in his palms while he thrummed her nipples with his thumbs. “I want more too. So much more.”
A whistle drew her attention to the door. Which was still open. One of her neighbors, a teenage boy still in high school, stood there staring at them.
Tony kicked the door closed in his face.
“Come on.”
He walked her backward, through the apartment to her bedroom. As soon as they stepped inside the room, he grasped the hem of her dress and tugged it over her head. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe. She liked the reverence in his voice. It was so real.
She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and flipped it over his shoulders, tossing it to the floor before reaching for his belt buckle. Her mouth was actually watering while he tugged the leather out of its metal cage and then unsnapped and unzipped his jeans.
He wore blue plaid boxer shorts. With a tent in the front. Anticipation sizzled through her veins as she waited for him to hook his fingers into the waistband and divest himself of those, too.
Instead, he reached for her, cupping her face and drawing her closer for a kiss. She wrapped her arms around his back and let her hands roam the smooth skin and sharp plains of his muscles while their tongues danced a sexually charged tango.
She whimpered when he pulled away and trailed kisses over the top swell of her breasts. Her knees started shaking, which he apparently noticed, because he lifted her and sat her on the bed. And then he knelt on the rug before her.
She stared down at him. He shifted her body closer to the edge, pushed her knees apart. She obligingly spread her legs for him. He hooked his finger around her thong, pushed it aside, and then leaned fo
rward to lick at her core. Phoebe fell back against the bed and thanked her—for once—incredibly good luck. She was so damn grateful she’d made the decision to hop into the car with this guy a couple of days ago, she couldn’t even speak.
She could scream, though. But it was a good scream. The kind drawn out as a result of a man’s superb skills with his tongue and fingers.
As the peak of her orgasm began to wane, he climbed to his feet and then leaned over her, pressing his palms into the comforter on either side of her head. “Sounded like you liked that.”
She lifted a hand and then let it drop to the blanket. “And you thought cooking was your expertise.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad you approve. I quite enjoyed myself too.”
“There’s more enjoyment to be had, assuming you have a condom.”
He disappeared from view for a moment and then returned, holding a small, square, foil packet in his fingers.
“Excellent,” she said in a breathy voice.
He shoved his boxers down his legs then wrapped his swollen member in latex. He stepped between her legs and slid his hands behind her knees, lifting her thighs. She reached between them and grasped his cock, giving it a couple of strokes and thoroughly enjoying the look of abject pleasure on his face. And then she positioned him at her entrance, and he thrust, filling her. She gasped and arched her back and he went deeper still, and she was already certain this was going to be a two-orgasm night.
She’d never experienced a two-orgasm night before.
“Yes,” she said and then moaned as he continued to pump in and out at a steady pace. He lifted one of her legs and rested it on his shoulder, and then he smoothed his hand down until he was stroking her clit, and oh yes, he elicited another scream as his actions became frenzied and desperate until he clutched at her hips and grit his teeth and made a long, drawn-out guttural sound while he reached his climax too.
He slowed his rocking hips to a stop and then pulled out and dropped onto the bed next to her, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “That was pretty amazing,” she said.
“The best.” He leaned over to give her a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom, presumably to get rid of the condom. “Seriously,” he said when he returned. “I’m not just saying that.”
“Good.” She raised her arm. “Come back to bed. Do you think we can improve on ‘the best?’”
He practically dove onto the mattress. “I’m sure as hell up for trying.”
Chapter Seven
CAN’T STOP THAT FEELIN’
Antonio was no stranger to waking up in a woman’s bed. What was odd about the experience was his desire to stay here. Except they couldn’t, as Phoebe’s shrilling alarm reminded him.
“Ugh,” she grumbled with her face buried in the pillow. “It’s Monday.”
“It is,” Antonio agreed, although he was distracted by her smooth, bare back and the top of her ass cheek that wasn’t quite covered by the sheet. He reached over and trailed his fingers along her spine, and she shivered then twisted her head to look at him.
With an impish smile, she said, “Want to have shower sex?”
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Give me a minute. I’m thanking God. I have a lot to be grateful for right now.”
She giggled. He worked hard not to frown. How fucking unfair was this?
She knew who Gino was. Maybe not everything; hell, Margot probably didn’t even know everything. But it was enough. Too much.
And so did Antonio. Because he recalled the transfer of funds from that senator; a hefty chunk of money that had unexpectedly shown up in Gino’s account last fall. Gino had blown him off, said something about campaigning, which made no sense because if Gino were suddenly developing an interest in politics, the money would be going out, not in. But as usual, Antonio pretended like the situation wasn’t fishy as hell, and he didn’t ask any more questions.
Two days later, the senator’s newly minted son-in-law had tragically died in a car accident. And Gino had sat with the mother-of-the-bride at the reception.
Fuck.
“Hey, you okay?”
Antonio turned his head to look at Phoebe, whose brow was marred. He cupped her face and forced a smile. “Yeah.”
It was a lie. Everything about him was a lie. He’d spent years—hell, most of his life—pretending he was doing nothing more than growing his brother’s money, without looking too deeply into where that money was coming from, how the hell Gino had so much to invest when his dry cleaning business only made so much income.
And he’d admittedly reaped the benefits, too. Setting his own schedule. Spending every perfect summer day on his boat instead of in an office. Never giving a thought to any purchase he made.
And ignoring the fact that not only was his brother a criminal, but Antonio was an accessory. He helped the process along. His actions condoned Gino’s.
Holy hell. He was as culpable as his brother, despite the fact that until now, he’d never done the front-end work, so he’d never actually witnessed what he damn well knew was going on.
“Come on,” Phoebe said, tossing off the sheet and rolling out of bed. She stood there, gloriously naked, and reached for his arm.
And he let her take it. Let her lead him into the bathroom, into the shower. He let her help him forget.
To be honest, it wasn’t difficult. Hell, he’d been looking the other way for two decades without any real incentive.
Phoebe crouched before him in that bathtub and took him into her mouth, grasping his ass while she sucked him in and out until his vision blurred at the edges. He pressed his hands against the wet tiles and closed his eyes and pretended like the only thing in the world that mattered was the sensation in his balls, the tingling that was climbing his spine, the fucking euphoria that hit when he finally exploded and she took it all, swallowed it down, and then licked her lips and gave him a self-satisfied, catlike smile.
He offered his hand and she took it, and he pulled her to her feet, his hot gaze scouring her body, before he turned her around to face the wall. Squirting shower gel into his hands, he rubbed them over her back, massaging from her neck down her spine to her ass, where he spent an inordinate amount of time kneading, his thumbs sliding along her crack, lower and lower, until one hand was between her legs.
He leaned into her, kissing her shoulder, nibbling her neck, while he tweaked her nipple with one hand and caressed her sweet spot with the other. She spread her legs, finally lifting one and balancing it on the edge of the tub while she made the sexiest fucking noises as he stroked her to orgasm.
And then he turned her around and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder and hugging her tightly against him while he wished they were a completely average couple who were about to get out of that shower and start their entirely normal day with a parting kiss as they each headed to their respective, typical jobs.
Antonio hovered while she dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail and dressed in her forest-green T-shirt and khaki shorts uniform. “Seriously, I have to get out of here,” she said, and he walked her to her car and pressed her against the vehicle and made love to her mouth one more time. She was breathless and her eyes were glassy when he finally, reluctantly pulled away.
“I…I don’t even know what to say,” she whispered.
“I know what you mean,” he replied, and then she climbed into the car and took off for work.
He stared down the winding, tree-lined drive for a long, long time, until the sound of one of her neighbors presumably heading out to his own job shook him from his reverie, and he finally walked over to the shitty, forgettable sedan Gino had given him and drove home.
***
Antonio’s condo was a small, two-bedroom place in a middle-class section of town. Gino had never been here, but he’d made fun of the address plenty of times over the years. Gino didn’t understa
nd not showing off one’s wealth.
Given said wealth was made by highly illegal and immoral means, Antonio wasn’t quite as interested in putting it on display as his brother was. He didn’t have many morals, but he had more than Gino.
Not enough, though, apparently, because after he changed into clean clothes, he checked his—well, Gino’s—investments and noted how much he’d grown his brother’s pile of money before heading over to Nina’s school to obediently collect her homework and assignments for the week.
The fiftyish lady behind the desk had brassy blonde hair and fake nails so long he wondered how she could type on her computer keyboard. Her smile was genuine.
“I’m here to pick up Nina Sarvilli’s schoolwork,” he said.
“Oh, yes.” She glanced at her computer screen and frowned while clucking her tongue. “Poor baby. I hope she kicks this soon. It sucks to be sick at the end of the school year. She’s going to miss field day.”
So that was Gino’s line? Lying about Nina being sick?
“Yeah, it really does suck,” Antonio agreed.
“Let me call her teacher’s room,” the receptionist said, “and let her know you’re here. If you want to have a seat in the lobby, it should just be a few minutes.”
“Thanks.” He headed over to a row of plastic chairs. The door opened and a beautiful brunette walked into the reception area.
“Oh,” she said, and then she narrowed her eyes and gave him a frosty glare. “What are you doing here, Antonio?”
“Hi, Margot.” He cupped the back of his neck, which was hot under his hand, while averting his gaze. He felt like enough dog shit without actually seeing her in person. It didn’t help that he’d spent the day yesterday with her daughter and had a blast, too.
“I said, what are you doing here?”
He glanced at the receptionist, who didn’t appear to be paying attention to their conversation. “I’m, uh, collecting Nina’s assignments.” No point in lying to her. She knew the rules of this fucked up game as well as he did.
“For how long?”
“Um…” Shit. Gino obviously hadn’t told her he planned to keep her daughter for the rest of the week.
