“I like everything you do, Samantha.” He stood in front of me and reached for my wrists, taking both in his hands to pepper kisses along the insides of my arms and loop them around his neck. Johnny seemed to love my fingers in his hair, and he moved them there as he went to his knees, kissing between my breasts, holding my back to tease my ribs, then my stomach with slow, wet kisses as the hold I had on his hair went tighter. “Delicious,” he mumbled against my skin, slowing his attentions when he took hold of my thong, moving the straps down, his gaze up at my face, watching me, looking closely as he slipped the fabric down my legs.
Another kiss landed on one hip, followed by a second, then Johnny looked at me again, teasing the insides of my thighs with the tips of his fingers. My stomach jumped, and the tightness working deep inside me quickened until I felt wetter, until the heat he stirred inside me had my nipples hardening.
“Touch me,” I said, pulling him close as my eyes slid closed.
Johnny obeyed, groaning as he fingered me slowly.
“Johnny…”
“Sit down, bella. I wanna taste you.”
Seconds after he led me to the couch and moved between my knees, holding me open to him, his hands flat against my thighs, his palms spreading me apart, Johnny kissed my center. He licked me at first with long swipes of his tongue, devouring me like a meal just as he promised. Then as the sensation began to build and I pressed his head closer and closer, Johnny slipped two fingers inside me, seeming to hold me everywhere—at my core, at the legs, in my mind, even at my breasts when he reached up with his free hand to pull down my bra and tease my hardened nipple.
“Johnny… Oh God… I’m so close…”
Every inch of me felt electrified. And it was him, the sensation of Johnny—the boy I’d loved, the man I wanted and should never, ever be with—tasting me, waking up all the long-dead sensations I’d told myself I’d never feel again. No one had ever touched me like this. No one had ever made my body sing and soar quite like he did.
“Bella…I feel how tight you are…” he said, still fingering me, head lifting to watch me as he found that spot deep inside me and teased it into oblivion. “So wet and tight and fucking perfect.” Johnny moved forward, licking my nipple, sucking hard, nibbling it as he continued to work me from the inside. I clenched around him, wanting that pending climax to reach me. “Cuore mio, you are beautiful and so delicious.” He moved his hands faster, worked hard as he took my mouth. “Come for me, love. I want to see you.”
Several seconds later, with Johnny moving his hand, working my sweet spot, and his attention back on my nipple, I finally came. But when I did, everything brightened and lifted, the world around me like a carnival of sensation I never wanted to leave. Ripples of bliss and pleasure washed over me until I couldn’t breathe. Until the only thing I could register was Johnny’s warm, soft kisses against my neck and the sweet, throbbing sensation between my legs. I was sated but not finished.
He lay next to me, smiling, his hands resting on my backside. He kissed over my shoulder as he lowered the strap of my bra until he finally moved me, shifting our positions. I straddled him on my couch, liking the power I felt looming over him. The expression of sheer eager desire on Johnny’s face as he lowered my bra and stared openly at my naked body.
We didn’t speak as he touched me. The slow trek of his fingertips across my collarbone, between my breasts, followed by the shift of his gaze, said enough to me. He was ready to burst from wanting me, and I felt the same.
Johnny seemed to hold his breath as I leaned forward. The tips of my nipples touched each expanse of skin exposed when I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed apart the fabric. He was still so beautiful.
“What’s this?” I asked, touching a long, white scar that ran down the center of his chest. It was the only imperfection on his solid, muscular chest.
“I was reckless for a long time,” he admitted, brushing the hair off my forehead when I leaned forward to get a better look at the scar. “It was a long time ago.”
I kissed it anyway, loving the smile he gave me and the low, growling noise of pleasure he released when that simple kiss transformed. I inched down his body, to his flat, taut abdomen. I watched him, a little empowered when Johnny bit his lip as I unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, releasing the zipper until I gripped him in my hands.
“Fuck, Sammy…oddio…”
He was beautiful, from the strength of his large, muscular frame to the perfect contours of his big dick. I held it. Loving the weight of it. Loving the power I felt just taking it in my hand. I closed my mouth over the head, licking the tip, remembering this and how much he’d enjoyed when I tasted him here.
Immediately, Johnny began a rushed, muted litany of words I couldn’t make out, incomprehensible things he said to himself that I took as complimentary. But when I stroked him, still holding him in my mouth, Johnny stiffened. He gripped my arms, flipping us, until I was on my back and he lay on top of me.
He rose up on his elbows, using his knee to move my legs apart as he held himself above, ready to enter me. “For the love of Christ, tell me you’re on something.”
“The shot.” I smiled, looking up, waiting. “And you?”
“I can’t get pregnant, bella.” When I frowned, he laughed, scrubbing his face. “Clean. On my parents’ graves, I’m clean.” The smallest nod from me and Johnny moved forward, kissing me. His mouth pressed hard, tongue demanding as he put his weight onto both palms and slipped into me. When he was fully inside and thrust his hips once, we both exhaled, breathing out a strangled pant as ten long years of loss, of distance, of so many lies and deceit shifted, and there was only the two of us pushed back together, settled into this moment.
“Ah…Johnny,” I said, lifting my legs, loving that he held one in his hand as he surged forward.
“Sammy, God, baby…I’ve missed you.”
We would have gone on like that, maybe spent the entire night wrapped up in each other, enjoying each other’s bodies, making up for the time we’d lost. But as Johnny started to make love to me and his movements began to quicken, my cell phone rang, interrupting the fog of pleasure.
“Get up,” I said, not caring that he tried to argue.
“Sammy…”
“Johnny, get off me.”
“Let your voice mail…”
“No, I can’t.”
He moved, likely hearing the panic I knew was in my voice. I wiggled away from him and darted around the room, grabbing my purse from the floor to dig for my phone. I managed to answer before the caller hung up.
“Hello?” I said, seeing Johnny in my peripheral as he sat on the couch. He didn’t bother to cover that beautiful body as he watched me. The voice on the other end was professional, giving me a name I didn’t know from the hospital more than an hour away. “Yes,” I answered when asked if I was who I was supposed to be. “That’s me.” Then came the news I’d dreaded for ten years. The news everyone in my position always dreaded and went on dreading until they were in the ground. “Of course. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you.”
I closed my eyes, breathing in and out, only then realizing the firestorm of drama I’d be in if Johnny asked for details. Who was I kidding? Of course, he was going to ask. Despite what had just happened between us, I couldn’t let him know. Not like this.
“Everything okay?” he asked, standing when I began to search around the living room for my clothes.
“I…uh…” I shook my head, trying to calm myself, trying to remember my priorities and to put on my game face. Johnny was here. He was right here. My God, this was incredibly stupid, letting him inside my home. If we hadn’t been consumed with lust, if we’d had sex and he’d stayed the night, he’d have woken up in the morning and spotted pictures and items, and he would have had a thousand questions. What the hell was I thinking? Ah. That’s right. I hadn’t been thinking much at all.
“Not really, no,” I said, slipping on my skirt and tugging on
my shirt. “I…uh…I’m the next of kin for a friend of mine. That was the Ellenville Hospital. They’ve been brought in, and I’ve got to go.”
“Ellenville?” He blinked at me, recovering quickly when I didn’t elaborate, and then shrugged. “I’ll take you,” he said, like it was a statement, not an offer.
“No.” I stopped him when he opened his mouth to argue.
“Sammy, that’s a two-hour car ride.”
“I’m aware, Johnny. I’ve driven it before. I don’t need a ride.” Johnny looked to the disarray of clothes, to the pillows and cushions disrupted by what we’d been doing and then shook his head as though he couldn’t believe I was dismissing him so easily. “Please,” I told him, hoping that my tone made him understand. “This is…personal. I can’t have you there.”
“I’m not…” He swung his hand around the room. “This wasn’t personal?”
“Different kind of personal, Johnny.”
He wouldn’t understand. In fact, if he knew the truth, he’d hate me. For just a moment longer, I wanted to keep that from happening. Johnny’s frown relaxed to worry when I stepped in front of him, pulling his face between my hands to kiss him. “I’ve been me for a long time. I haven’t needed anyone’s help. You can’t expect that to change overnight. My business is my business, even when it comes to you.”
He watched me then, but I knew he wasn’t satisfied. After several moments, he nodded, kissing me before he got dressed. He accompanied me downstairs to my car.
“If you need me…”
“You’ll be the first person I call,” I lied, hopping in my car when the attendant brought it around from the garage. As I pulled away, I watched Johnny in the rearview, praying he’d get in his car and go home. Hoping like hell he’d let me keep this secret a little while longer.
* * *
The hospital was beige and sterile, like most were, but the children’s ward, at least, had waves of pink, blue, and green balloons painted along the walls leading to the various wings. It was a green wave that led to the nurses station in the ER when I arrived. My hands were still shaking from the trip and the repeated messages sent to me by the camp director.
She’s fine, Ms. Nicola. I promise. Just a touch of food poisoning, but she was asking for you.
The woman had only been camp director for a year. She didn’t know Betta. So how in the world would she know if the girl was fine or not?
The nurse in the blue scrubs scribbled something on a chart while sipping on a bottle of water. She had red hair and a riot of freckles, and when she spotted me, flashed a crooked smile. “Oh, you gotta belong to green eyes in curtain four, right?”
“Elizabetta Nicola?”
“Poor thing. It was trout, I think they said. Dang,” she continued, giving me a once-over. “I’ve seen family resemblances, but my God…”
“Where is she?”
“Just down there. Curtain four…”
I followed the direction she indicated with her blue-inked Bic and hurried to the green curtain and the label of FOUR, peeking my head around it to find the tiny form lying on her side, with a scratchy-looking wool blanket covering her long legs.
She didn’t move when I sat on the bed next to her and immediately started my own examination. “Trout,” I muttered, ready to kill someone. How many times had I told those idiots she didn’t do well with fish? And what was Betta doing eating that mess anyway? Lord, she was pale.
Paler than I’d ever been. Paler than… Oh God.
Johnny had been so close tonight. He could have seen any of the pictures in my place. He could have seen her room. We’d almost made love, and when we were done, he’d have had to go to the bathroom to clean up. Betta’s bedroom was next to the hall bathroom.
What was wrong with me?
I looked down at her, to the thick bottom lip and the high, arched cheekbones. His features, both of them. My daughter was a Carelli. He’d hate me for never telling him. I’d been with all of them tonight—Cara and Antonia, both my friends. I loved them. They’d never known either. They’d hate me too when they discovered the truth.
One look at her, that heart-shaped face and those round eyes, my eyes—green like my own, like my mother’s—and I knew without a doubt, I’d made the right decision. Uncle Patrick had convinced me. The Carellis were good people. But they were not innocent. I couldn’t raise a child around that.
I lowered my head, feeling stupid, utterly ridiculous for what I’d gotten myself into. I’d let Johnny back in. I let him talk me into an arrangement for the sake of my charity, forgetting that protecting my daughter was more important than anything else in the world. Even the organization and the kids I loved so much.
“Mama?” I heard, jerking my attention down to the bed and my little girl, staring up at me.
“Hi, baby.” I brushed her face, kissing her cheek. “How do you feel?”
“It wasn’t my fault.” She was immediately anxious, the words rushing out with her quick exhale. “Connie Matthews told me if you took an ibuprofen, you can eat fish even if you’re allergic.”
“But you don’t like fish.”
I kicked off my shoes as Betta moved over, making room for me, something she always did when I went in to check on her after she was supposed to be sleeping. She never was. There was always an excuse—a book and a reason she couldn’t put it away in favor of the sleep she needed. My daughter was better at fast-talking than her father, God help me.
“I know, but Nathan Miller caught it, and he said he caught it for me. I felt bad for not eating it, even though I told him I didn’t like it and he said he understood, I still, well, I felt bad. And Connie—” here she rolled her eyes, exaggerating the name like she didn’t like how it felt on her tongue “—said I was stupid because Nathan was such a nice boy. And I think Connie likes him, and mainly, I ate it because she called me a coward and I’m no coward.”
“No, baby, you’re no coward.”
Wish I could say the same for myself.
She sat up, looking me over, searching for something I didn’t have with me before she took my hands, squeezing my fingers tight. “You’re not gonna make me come home with you, are you?”
She was pale, but the quick rush of realization that I might make her come back to the city with me seemed to have put a little color in her cheeks. “You don’t want to come home?”
“Well, no. We still have three more weeks. And the volleyball tournament is the last week and I’m team captain and I know we’re gonna win.” Her eyes were wide, and she looked a little desperate, still holding my hand like she wanted me to understand how important it was for her to stay at the camp. To a nine-year-old, everything in the world was important at that very moment, no matter what that thing may be. The next moment, the next second, would bring the next most important thing. But for now, Betta seemed focused on volleyball and winning.
“Is Connie on the other team?” I asked, guessing her competitive streak had been stoked by more than a game.
“She might be. But that’s not why. We’ve been practicing all summer.”
Relief filled me. It seemed far too early for silly things like jealous girls and boys with crushes to be taking up her attention. And by how easily Betta seemed to switch her focus, my worry ebbed. I nestled closer to her, lying on my side so we were face-to-face on the hospital bed. “Okay, but only if you promise not to do stupid things like eat fish just to impress boys or because silly girls call you a coward.”
Those big green eyes softened. The familiar thick lips curled into a smile as she lifted her small finger to me for a shake. “Pinkie promise.”
“Good.” I took the proffered promise and her pinkie before I tugged up the blanket and moved it over her shoulder. “Now, rest. I’ll stay with you and then drive you back in the morning.”
On the other side of the curtain, I heard the redheaded nurse mumbling something about a shift change, then her instruction to whom I guessed was a new nurse about Betta’s condition. Whe
n the woman mentioned, “waiting on the doctor to release her,” I relaxed, figuring I’d get more details after my daughter had finally gotten some sleep.
“Mama?” I heard, surprised she hadn’t dozed off yet.
“Yes, baby?”
“You okay?” I looked down, eyebrows bunched together when Betta frowned at me. “You look sad.”
What could I say to that? There wasn’t much she’d understand. I’d never mentioned Johnny to her. She’d asked once who her father was, and after Uncle Pat’s face had turned four shades of purple, I’d sent him home, promising him I wouldn’t tell the girl anything about her father’s true identity. I’d made up a small lie about a boy I’d once known, a boy who wasn’t ready to be a father.
Does he know about me? she’d asked.
Any man worth his salt would burn down the world to be your father, vita mia.
It was a non-answer she probably never understood, but she never pushed. I suspected Uncle Pat told her something about a boy who was no good. Likely something about never asking me again for fear of breaking my heart. When she was older, I vowed to explain everything. But, nine? No, I told myself, my heart aching as she watched me, concern making her eyes glisten. Nine was just too young.
“I was just worried about my polpetta,” I teased, knowing she hated the nickname.
Betta’s smile was wide, sweet, but it didn’t linger on her mouth. She nestled into her pillow, holding my hand against her chest and stifled a yawn. “Don’t worry so much, Mama,” she said, beginning to doze off. “Everything will be okay. You gotta have faith.”
But the only faith I had was stored up in this little girl, and I worried that protecting her wouldn’t be an easy job if Johnny discovered who she was.
8
Sammy
My uncle had never quite understood why I refused to marry. Even when I cried against his shoulder, five months gone with a baby and the ink from Johnny Carelli’s six-figure apology check long dry, I still wouldn’t hear anything about being married off to whatever poor idiot Uncle Pat convinced to have me.
Nailed Down: The Complete Series Page 58
