by Cathryn Fox
I turn the water to hot and pull her under the rain showerhead.
“Mmm, that is nice,” she says.
“Getting warm.”
She laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been warm in my life.”
“Come here.” I pull her back to my chest and soap up my hands. I run the suds over her body, cupping her breasts as I clean her. She rests her head against my shoulder, and a warm, contented sigh escapes her mouth. I spin her and rinse her clean. Once done, I turn the water off and towel-dry us both before I wrap her in a clean one, and knot another one around my waist.
She yelps when I scoop her up and carry her to the bed, setting her down gently and crawling in beside her. She snuggles into me, her skin warm and fragrant. I lightly touch her arm, trail my hand lower. Her sexy moan wraps around me, and I part her legs to caress her sex.
“Sore?” I cringe. “I sort of went a little caveman on you earlier.”
Her soft chuckle strokes my balls. “I loved it.”
“I loved it, too.”
I love you.
She widens her legs even more and the welcoming way this woman invites me into her body, giving herself to me entirely, is one hell of a mind fuck. I put my finger inside her and her eyes roll back.
“Hate that?”
“Hate it sooo much, Roman.”
“Yeah, I can tell.”
I move my finger in and out of her until she’s dripping and so close to release, but I pull back, needing to be inside her when she comes. I roll on top of her and her smile is soft, her mood far more mellow tonight, despite the storm we’re going to face tomorrow. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Tonight, all I want to do is make love to this woman.
I piston forward and slide my cock into her. She wraps her legs around me and hugs so tight, I nearly come. “Jesus,” I murmur, and push her hair from her face. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
“I have a little idea.”
“Didn’t we agree that you weren’t to use the word little when we’re talking about sex,” I say, and a laugh bubbles out of her. I laugh with her, and it changes to a moan when she brings my mouth to hers for a deep kiss. She breaks it and cups my face.
“There’s nothing little about you, Roman.”
“That’s better,” I say, and move in and out of her.
“You have a very big...heart.”
“Hey,” I say, and she chuckles.
She wraps her arms and legs around me and pulls me closer, until every inch of flesh is meshed together. This. Right here. This is what I want. Peyton in my bed, and in my life. Tonight. Tomorrow.
Forever.
Her eyes are at half-mast as she gazes up at me, and I lose myself in her just a little more. Impossible, I know, but I have never in my life loved a woman the way I love her. I’m 100 percent positive the wrath of five will be at my door tomorrow, demanding answers. As I think about that, with Peyton coming underneath me, the answer to our dilemma comes to me in a flash.
Peyton doesn’t want to get married. She’s a sworn bachelorette. But what if we did go through with it, if I lived here with her, stayed in Malta, maybe she would warm to the idea of a real husband. As far as her brother is concerned, I’ll have to deal with that when the situation arises. All I know is I’m crazy about this woman, who came from nothing and wants to give everything. She’s nothing like my ex. She’s never said or done anything to lead me to believe she’s the type of girl who’d marry for title or position. I could never be with her if she was. I hug her tight, knowing what I need to do next. I just hope she doesn’t get frightened and run the other way.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Peyton
VOICES—LOUD VOICES—pull me awake and I roll over to find the other side of the bed empty. I jackknife up and the blankets fall to expose my naked body. I scramble to pull them back up before someone comes busting in, and try to figure out what is being said, but everyone seems to be talking at once, and in Italian. My tired brain can’t seem to keep up.
I quietly slip from the bed and pull on a T-shirt and pair of yoga pants. I make a quick trip to the bathroom to fix myself up the best I can, although there is nothing I can do to wipe the contented smile off my face. Yeah, one look at me, and whoever is downstairs is going to know I was up all night making love with Roman.
Making love.
While I love it fast and hard, his touch was a bit different last night. Tender, gentle, so profound it seeped under my skin and wrapped around my heart. Yeah, I know. Not good for a girl who’s a sworn bachelorette. But I feel myself falling, despite everything.
I open my bedroom door, and as my fuzzy brain clears, I gasp and wrap my arms around myself, knowing exactly what’s going on. My God, I can’t go down there. How can I face his family, let lies spill from my lips? I’m about to slam my door shut, crawl under the covers and stay there until everyone leaves, but footsteps pound on the stairs.
Roman’s dark eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t seem upset at all. Maybe I’m mistaken. Maybe his family hasn’t invaded, demanding answers.
“My family is here,” he says, and leans against the doorjamb.
My heart sinks. “Are you okay?” I ask.
“They want to meet my bride.”
My stomach tightens. “Roman, you shouldn’t...we can’t pull this off with your family.”
“Just for a little while. We have to let them think we’re married. The fewer people who know the truth, the better.” He exhales loudly. “Believe me, none of them can keep a secret and we wouldn’t want them accidently spilling the truth here.”
“I guess you’re right, but how are they going to feel when we have to end this?”
He goes thoughtful and puts one hand on my cheek. “How about we cross that bridge when we come to it?”
“I hope we don’t have to jump off the bridge.”
He laughs, a big, deep laugh that eases the tension inside me and brings a smile to my face. “I don’t think it will come to that.” He bends and gives me a soft kiss. “Come on, they’re dying to meet you.”
A jolt of unease freezes my legs. “I don’t know.” What if they don’t like me? What if they try to break us up like they did when they put blue dye on his toothbrush?
It’s not a real relationship anyway, Peyton.
“It’s going to be fine,” Roman says, reading the worry on my face. “They’re going to love you and vice versa. I promise.”
“Am I dressed okay, maybe I should—” His lips close over mine, swallowing the last of my worries. He inches back, takes my hand and leads me down the stairs. As we walk, the scent of waffles reaches my nose.
“Are they cooking?” I whisper.
“Of course. They said I was looking too thin and need more meat on my bones.” He puts his mouth close to my ear. “The only thing I need on my bone is you.”
I chuckle at that. For a guy who was worried sick about his family, and lives in a whole other country to keep them from meddling, he sure doesn’t seem upset with them being here now. He actually seems...happy. But I’m out of my element here, and so not the type of girl they’d want to see their baby brother with. Roman says otherwise, but unlike them, I have no real heritage, no family outside of my brother. I’ve accepted my lot in life. My past made me the strong woman I am today, but I’m smart enough to know how things work in the real world.
I reach the bottom step and all eyes turn to me—all eyes that resemble Roman’s. It’s not hard to tell they’re all family. “Oh God,” I whisper under my breath, completely overwhelmed, but Roman puts a strong, supportive arm around me and pulls me to his side.
“Everyone, this is Peyton. Peyton, this is my family.”
I give an awkward little wave. “Hi.”
A beat of silence and then one sister spreads her arms. “Bella!”
She comes toward me and Roman says, “I should have warned you. They’re all huggers.”
Before I realize what’s happening, I’m being passed around, each squeeze tighter than the last. The women touch my hair and face, and their praise wraps around me.
“Mia sorella,” Lucy says when she gets a hold of me, and my heart pinches tight. I can’t believe these women are so accepting, calling me their sister. I seek Roman out in the flurry, and he’s leaning against the kitchen island, a huge smile on his face.
One of the sisters, I think it’s Aurora, speaks quickly in Italian. I struggle to grasp what she’s saying.
“English,” Roman says, and she turns back to me.
She fists her hands. “I ought to give it to Roman for keeping you from us, bella.”
“I told you. We wanted time alone before we let you know,” he explains. “We were going to tell you soon, isn’t that right, Peyton?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I say, pushing the lie past a tight throat. Pretending to be married for a job at a school that practices unfair hiring rules is one thing, but straight-up lying to the people he’s closest to doesn’t sit well with me. Not even a little bit.
“I think the waffles are burning,” Roman says.
Aurora leaves my side, and that’s when I spot an elderly woman on the sofa, her purse clutched in her lap, a small smile on her face.
“You must be Roman’s mother,” I say, and move toward her.
She nods and pats the sofa. I sit beside her and she cups my face. She kisses both my cheeks and takes my hand in hers to examine the ring.
“It fits you perfectly,” she says, and I’m not sure she’s talking about the size of it.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bianchi.”
“Phooey,” she says with a wave of her hand, and everyone laughs. “You, my sweet bella, can call me Mamma.”
I take a fast breath as tears pound behind my eyes and threaten to spill. This sweet woman wants to be my mamma. I nod, my throat so tight I can barely swallow. “Okay, Mamma,” I say and Roman must pick up on the hitch in my voice because a second after those words leave my mouth he’s there, right there, pulling me into his arms.
“You have an amazing family,” I say as I turn to him.
“Yeah, I know.”
“But we have a problem,” he says quietly as dishes clang in the kitchen.
I blink up at him, but don’t see worry in his eyes. “What problem?”
“Remember I told you they were interfering?”
I nod.
“We want a real wedding,” his mother says, and pushes to her feet. She holds one finger up. “Only then will I forgive Roman for getting married behind my back.”
I blink rapidly. “A real wedding? What do you mean?” I glance around, and realize four out of the five sisters are on their phones; the fifth is in the kitchen dishing up waffles. One sister is talking about flowers, one about a dress. My God, are they making wedding arrangements for us? “What’s going on?”
“They want to see us exchange vows. It won’t be a big ceremony. Just a small one with family.”
“Roman...” I’m about to say no, he’s done enough, but there’s a part of me that just can’t. I actually want this. I want this to be real with Roman, and...maybe, just maybe he wants it, too.
He puts his mouth to my ear, his warm breath sending shivers along my spine. “It will solve our problem with Richard, Peyton.”
Or maybe not.
“Please say yes, Peyton,” Lucy asks, and pulls me in for another hug. I take a breath, completely overwhelmed with all this.
Say no, Peyton.
No matter how much I might want this, I can’t go through with it. I have to say no. I have to.
“What do you think?” Roman asks.
“Roman, do you—”
“I do,” he says, and for a brief second it catches me off guard, like I might have actually just proposed to him and he might have just agreed. My stomach rolls, wanting so much for this to be real.
“Do you?” he asks, and the room goes silent—a huge task for this group, I’m sure.
I take in all the hopeful, expectant looks. I can’t bear to disappoint them, even though going through with a ceremony, only to nullify the marriage later, will undoubtedly leave me scarred and emotionally wrecked. “I do,” I say, and the girls all start clapping and jumping up and down and talking a mile a minute in Italian.
Okay, I need a minute alone here to get my head and my heart straightened out. But no, that’s not about to happen. The next thing I know I’m being led to the rooftop, with Mamma beside me as all the sisters bring up plates of food.
They set plates at the table, and the first thing I do is go for a coffee. Hard to believe I agreed to marry Roman, and he agreed to marry me, all before my first cup. I can only hope it’s strong. I catch the way Roman keeps watch over me as his sisters fuss and talk details.
“Yeah, sure,” I say when Emma suggests we exchange nuptials on the beach near the family villa. Questions about flowers, dresses and food get thrown at me, and my gaze seeks out Roman’s. He opens his mouth, no doubt to tell them to back off a bit, but I hold my hand up to stop him. His presence is solid, and I really like having him in my corner, but I’ve got this.
I’ve never had a big family, and I’ve never had sisters. This might not be real, and everyone is going to be devastated when Roman and I end this, but right now—even though my family comes from nothing, and they might disown me when they find out—I just want to bask in the love and warmth and exuberant energy they’re displaying. Can it really hurt for me to enjoy these ladies while I can and pretend that I’m family, too?
Yeah, I’m pretty sure it can, but I’m in too deep to pull the plug now.
“For flowers, I don’t want any of those local purple ones, they make me sneeze.” Roman relaxes and pushes back in his seat.
“No purple flowers,” Emma says, and we all laugh and dig in to our waffles.
“What about your family?” Maria asks. “Will they want to come for the nuptials?”
My heart jumps into my throat. What do I say, I’m a nobody with only one brother? I open my mouth and close it again, not sure what to tell them, when Roman pipes in.
“This one will be for my side of the family,” Roman says, and while I’m glad he jumped in to help, I also can’t resist thinking he might not want them to know who I really am. He’s a great guy, but he had a very different upbringing than me, and there are certain expectations placed on him, certain things he must live up to—marrying beneath his status is probably something that would be discouraged. Then again, I could just be projecting my fears. Maybe the only one worried about it is me. But to answer her question, no, my family won’t be coming. No need for Cason to be made aware of our wedding, when it’s not a real one.
I barely take my last bite when Lucy snatches up my plate. “Okay, let’s go,” she says, her dark eyes brimming with excitement.
I take in her little baby bump and my heart misses a beat. It would be so much fun to be a part of this family, watch that baby grow and be there to spoil it. “Go where?”
“We have one week to pull off a wedding,” she says.
“One week?” I blink numerous times and take in the bobbing heads. “Why one week?”
“We have duties to get back to,” Aurora says.
“Wait, where are your children and husbands?” I was so caught up in the excitement, I never stopped to consider they had lives to return to, children needing their mothers, husbands needing their wives.
“Our babies are with our husbands and nannies,” Maria says. “They’ll come next Saturday for the wedding.”
My gaze moves around the table and I plant one hand on my hip. “Why do I get the feeling this wedding was in progress before any of you arrived?”
Bianca gives me a sheepish look. So far she’s been the quietest in the bunch. “Probably because the second Anna reached out to Lucy, we were packing and making arrangements.”
“I didn’t stand a chance, did I?” I ask, and Roman mumbles something like, I told you so under his breath and all I can do is laugh.
“Okay, let’s go,” Lucy says.
The next thing I know I’m in the shops, and we’re picking out flowers and cake and food. With little time to find the perfect dress, I’ll have to pick one from the rack, but I don’t mind. I don’t want to spend a lot, although so far I haven’t spent anything. These women insist on purchasing everything, but I don’t want them to waste a lot of money on me. They just wave me off every time I try to protest.
They march me into a bridal shop and even without an appointment we’re made a priority. I suppose that’s how it is when you come from money.
The sisters all take a seat on the sofa and pull me down with them. The clerk, Lucille, a gorgeous middle-aged woman with long dark hair and big brown eyes, asks me to describe my favorite dress, and I basically sit there with my mouth hanging open. How on earth would I know? I wasn’t like other little girls, dreaming of their Prince Charming. No, I was sticking close to the walls trying to be invisible. There was no time for fairy tales in that cruel world I grew up in.
“I...don’t know.”
She takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s have a look at your body shape.” I stand there like a mannequin on display as she spins me around and everyone excitedly gives their opinion on what would look best on me.
“I don’t need anything fancy,” I say. “Just simple.”
The clerk taps her chin, her brown eyes narrowing as she goes quiet, thoughtful. “I think I have the perfect dress,” she announces, and the women all clap their hands, excitement on their faces, and I can’t quite help but get swept up in it.
“Okay,” I say, and let her lead me to a change room. I step inside and strip to my underwear and she comes in with a gorgeous white gown.
