Flaws And All

by Winter, Nikki

  “That’s a lovely description of my commitment to our friendship,” Trip replied dryly. “I’m touched.”

  “In the head,” Paz announced.

  Samara sighed. “Why do I know the two of you? Why does my friend circle include people who don’t understand boundaries?”

  Paz put an arm around her shoulder and led her to the couch, sitting her in between himself and Trip. “Now, now, chesty. You calm down and tell us what’s on your mind.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No.” They didn’t need to know the ugly details of how she wanted to curl up into a ball and not reappear until her body looked like it used to again.

  “Does this have something to do with your tit-to-waist ratio?” Trip asked. “Because if that’s what you were looking at, it’s perfect.” He grinned as though he’d just dug up some mystical treasure. And for that, she hit him in the back of the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

  “You have to ask?” Paz queried.

  “For making me mental!”

  “Use your words! Not your fists!” He wagged a finger in her face like she was a preschooler. “Bad girl! Bad, bad…Jesus Christ! Unhinge your jaws from my digits you madwoman!”

  ***

  “Daddy loves you.” Luciano went down the line of three of his favorite people, kissing his two youngest on the forehead and stopping when he reached the oldest. “Demon seed.”

  Marco smirked up at him, and he tried not to shudder at how eerily similar that expression was to his own, despite the fact they shared no DNA. “Luciferian father.”

  Luciano’s eyes narrowed before he reached out with one large hand and covered the kid’s entire face. He had never been one to pick favorites among his children, but Marco would always be Luciano’s Achilles heel. He was his son in all the ways that mattered. Even while being the clear product of Satan.

  “Don’t irritate me, boy,” Luciano intoned while jostling Marco a bit, trying not to smile when Vincent giggled and Gianna waved her little arms and feet while in Sansone’s hold. They clearly enjoyed watching their brother get abused. “Or I’ll make your life miserable.”

  “Good job on a great start, Luigi,” Marco retorted in a dry, muffled voice from behind the palm on his face.

  Luciano sighed and lifted the bottom of the kid’s T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head before he shoved him out the front door and onto the porch. Turning back around, he ran a hand over Vincent’s hair and looked to Sansone as his youngest boy came to stand by him. “Feel free to use that one”—he jerked his head towards Marco’s current position—“for child labor.”

  Sansone smirked. “The oil in my car needs to be changed, and I’m in the mood for a home-cooked meal tonight.”

  Luciano returned his grin. “You’re a ba—” He looked down into Vincent’s upturned face and amended himself. “Uh…bad man.”

  Chuckling, his brother walked past him and out the door, a baby bag hanging from one shoulder. “Have fun defiling your wife.”

  “It’s not defiling in the eyes of the lord. We have a license.” He locked eyes with Gianna as Sansone was carrying her away, Vincent hot on his heels, and Luciano felt a brief punch in his gut, missing his brood already. That feeling disappeared the moment Sansone loaded the kids into his SUV and took off.

  He watched them get a good distance away from the house before jumping around and singing “Eye of The Tiger” seemed like a really good idea.

  Laughing now, he kicked the door closed and stripped on his way upstairs, rushing to shower and have dinner started before Samara got home from the radio station. Most days he worked from home on business plans for his franchise of gyms and sporting goods while keeping an eye on Vincent and Gianna until Samara swept in like supermom. He never thought he’d be the type to want to document every little moment of his children’s lives but watching her with them made him pick up his camera every five minutes. She was closer to Marco than he was, Vincent clung to her hip whenever she was around, and she was the only one aside from him who could get Gianna to smile. They’d had plenty of screaming matches over the last few years, but that never detracted from how amazing she was as a mother. She’d even given her cat Manfred to Trip when it looked as though she wouldn’t be able to pay him adequate attention.

  God, he loved his wife. He loved being able to freely touch her even more. Luciano had kept his hands to himself for his own peace of mind. He knew that even one unrestrained kiss could lead them down a road her body wasn’t ready for, so he’d kept himself in control at all times, even avoided being anywhere near her when she showered. He stayed on his side of the bed and away from her laundry. Imagining her in all those little lacey contraptions she had kept him up most nights. But tonight was different, and he had every intention of taking advantage of that. Over and over and over again.

  He had just began to turn steaks over on the grill bar of the stove when the front door opened. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from running out into the foyer like a little boy. Luciano looked down at his crotch. “Behave yourself, sir.”

  “And you’re talking to your man meat why, exactly?”

  His head snapped up at the sound of his wife’s voice. She stood just in the doorway, brows almost touching her hairline.

  “Mind your business, woman.” Luciano waved a hand at himself. “This was a personal conversation.”

  Samara nodded, tucking her lips in. “On that note, I’m going to go get cleaned up for dinner.” She disappeared but came back seconds later. “Where are the kids?”

  “With Sunny for the weekend,” he answered, plating both steaks.

  Her silence caused him to lift his head, and the look in her eyes caused him to stop what he was doing. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why’d you hand our progeny off to that madman?”

  “Last week you were calling that madman your precious, precious brother whom you adored more than me.”

  “That was before you gave him our children!”

  Luciano’s head cocked. “I’m sensing you’re distressed, my love.”

  Samara stopped, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “I’m not…it’s just…” Her voice trailed off, moving to the place setting laid out in the dining room off to the left of the kitchen. “I really need a shower.” His wife’s smile was shaky. “Be back in twenty.”

  Once again she was gone, and Luciano got the distinct feeling something was wrong here. She was hiding from him, and Sammie hadn’t hidden from him since she found out she was pregnant with Vincent.

  “Oh, bella,” he murmured, turning off the oven and stove top. “There is no way you thought it would be that easy to lie to me.”

  Chapter Three

  The kids were gone. Her one sure-fire shield against the blatant intent in her husband’s warm amber eyes. Her stomach hadn’t been in this many knots since the first time they’d slept together. This was Luciano, her partner, right? The man she’d chosen above anyone else because when she needed to she could hide behind him and not come out until she was ready to face the world again. One smile from him caused her chest to feel as though it would split just so he could get that much closer to a heartbeat that thrummed for him alone. How many times had he nearly taken the head of a photographer off for getting too close to what he considered his? How many times had his icy stare been received by other men who thought they could take his place, do a better job? Too many to count.

  So why did Samara suddenly feel like her head was being shoved under water and she couldn’t keep herself from drowning? Luciano had made it more than clear that he thought everything about her was beautiful, but sometimes spouses didn’t understand that their opinion wasn’t the only one that counted. She wasn’t comfortable in her own skin, and she had no idea how to express that to him.

  “Would you like me to wash your back, bella?”

  Samara swung around, her eyes widening at the sight of Luciano filling up the bathroom doorway. Jesus, what was with all
the men in her life and their constant kitty-ninja-mutant stealth? She shook her head, backing away as he stepped forward. “Didn’t you already shower?”

  He smiled and, God in heaven, she melted. “Yes, but I’m not exactly opposed to taking another one.” His eyes raked her from head to toe, and the knots in her belly became butterflies.

  She smirked. “That’s cute, humongosaur, but really, I can handle it all on my own.” Nervously, she pointed behind her. “I have a loofa with a handle. Gets the job done well enough.”

  Luciano was either ignoring her or too focused on his own thoughts, because he only smiled wider and pulled his T-shirt up over his head, revealing a stone-cut physique that never failed to leave her a little breathless. “I get the feeling you’re trying to get rid of me, Sammie. I am wrong, aren’t I?” He backed her into the double sinks, his hands pinning her in on either side as he stared down into her upturned face.

  Samara snorted, running her hands up his biceps. “Of course you are. I just need twenty minutes and—”

  He shook his head, dark hair moving in one silken wave. “Unh-unh. Parla con me tesoro. Cosa sta succedendo nella bella testa di tuo?”

  The Italian? Really? Goddammit! She sucked in a deep breath, attempting to tamp down the steady thrum of heat that was building between her thighs. Her husband leaned forward and brushed his lips between her brows then kissed the tip of her nose. “Nothing’s going on in my head,” she murmured, trying not to concentrate on the sensation of his rough palms connecting with the dip in her spine. “I just—”

  “Hey.” Luciano drew her head up with a gentle finger to her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “Since when do we lie to one another? I may have had my head up my ass the last few days but I know you.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, gently cupping her jaw. “And I know something is wrong right now.”

  Samara wanted to spill it all right then, tell how she was afraid that he’d touch her and it wouldn’t feel the same, afraid that when he saw all of her he wouldn’t still have that same heat in his stare that he’d had so many times before.

  Instead she wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled it away. “Luc, seriously, its nothing. I’m just not having the greatest day and I need a minute, okay?”

  His eyes stayed on her for so long she was afraid he’d pull his usual Italiano mano forte—Italian strong hand—and dig his feet in. Instead he backed away, clearly a little hurt that she wouldn’t tell him what was bothering her. He nodded. “I’ll finish up with dinner, then.” The way his shoulders dropped as he picked up his shirt and started out of the bathroom broke her heart.

  “Luc…”

  He stopped but didn’t turn around.

  Samara closed her eyes. “I’m going to tell you something, and you have to promise not to laugh at me, okay?”

  Luciano turned to face her, eyebrows raised. “Do I ever laugh at you?”

  She stared.

  He tucked in his lips and shrugged. “Okay, so we’ve had a few incidents.”

  She continued to stare.

  His mouth twisted. “All right, more than a few.” He motioned to her. “But this isn’t about my sick sense of humor, it’s about the fact that my wife looks terrified at the prospect of taking a shower with me.”

  Samara chewed her lip. “It’s just that…”

  “Che cosa?”

  “Things don’t look like they used to.” At his confused frown she motioned to her body. “Baby number two came, saw, conquered, and took my figure when she left, sweetheart.”

  That was when the big bastard threw his head back and laughed. Loudly.

  ***

  “Bella, no.” Luciano made a grab for Samara as she tried to get past him and out the bathroom. Really, he hadn’t meant to laugh, but his beautiful, wonderful, completely oblivious wife had been agonizing over what exactly? The thought that he wouldn’t appreciate her weight gain?

  God give him strength. She could be so ridiculous at times.

  “Let me go, you unnaturally sized mother—”

  “Hey, hey, hey!” He slammed his mouth down on hers, taking full advantage when her lips parted in surprise. His tongue rolled and grazed the roof of her mouth, rubbing over her own with insistence until she kissed him back with enough ferocity to leave him dazed. Luciano released her lips, his breath shuddering out as she gave little gasps.

  “Do I have…your attention…now?” he panted.

  She nodded, and he set her on her feet before turning her to face the mirror that stretched over the sink, taking up a good portion of the wall. “You obviously don’t see yourself the way I see you, so we’re going to change that.”

  Her brows drew downwards but she stayed quiet. How did she not know? The first time he’d laid eyes on Samara it was like a gut punch. The first time he’d heard her voice he felt as though every broken part of his spirit had been mended in a way no one else could. How she could look at herself and see any less than a woman who was blessed with an incredible beauty he didn’t understand, but he’d show her.

  Luciano brought her back against his chest and reached around to play with the strands of her hair. She’d stopped wearing braids at his insistence after the first time he’d seen her naturally kinky locks. Her curls had grown since then, reaching the nape of her neck with the help of her pregnancy. When straightened, her hair fell just beneath her shoulder blades in blue-black waves, but it didn’t matter which way she wore it, he loved it.

  “Any time I see these”—he pulled a curl and watched it spring back—“I think of the way the top of your head peeks out from beneath the covers every morning.” His hand moved to her brows then her mouth. “The memory of how these feel in the most fleeting of touches keeps me occupied for hours when I should be working. Do you have any idea how sweet your mouth is?”

  She swallowed, and he ran his fingers down her throat. “I love that small spot just beneath your ear here.” He brushed his index finger over it and listened to her gasp. “And the way you moan when I tug your earlobe with my teeth.”

  Samara shifted against him, and he clenched his jaw as his hand drifted farther down and played with the ties of her sundress, until he pulled them loose. She reached up as if to stop the soft, lavender-colored material from falling, but he shook his head and she allowed it to drop, revealing a black lace, strapless bra that cupped her chest lovingly. One flick of his fingers and the clasp opened. The undergarment fell and it left her bare to his gaze. He could feel his cock lengthen, going from half-mast to full at the sight of her chocolate-brown nipples tightening under his stare.

  He cupped one, rolling his palm over the beaded tip, and watched as her lips parted. “I love how soft you are. How much comfort I feel when I lay my head here.” Luciano’s other hand came up to hold the left breast, and he lightly grazed over both nipples. Letting them go at her quiet whimper, he dropped his hands to her hips and pushed the sundress down the rest of the way. She looked away, but his eyes remained on her uncovered flesh as he lightly caressed her sides and belly. The area wasn’t as firm as it used to be, but he liked it—he liked that everything about her since her pregnancy had become lusher. She was worried about a few stretch marks? Some excess weight? All he could see was where he wanted his tongue—in her belly button, on her butterfly tattoo, running across her hips and her thighs.

  “You carried life for me here.” His fingertips lovingly traced her tummy. “You nurtured and loved two whole other beings. Ones that have your eyes and your smile. How could I ever look at this and associate it with anything other than how amazing you are?”

  Her head lifted, and her eyes were glazed. Luciano brought his hand around to the apex of her thighs and pushed up against the downy hair of her mound. “And this is the reason I finish my work early. The reason I smile at the oddest times of day. The reason I behave myself. But it’s not what makes you beautiful to me.” When his thumb brushed her clit she went up on tiptoes, pushing into his hand. “It’s what rests here.�
� His right hand reached her chest once again and rested just over her heart. “Every single flaw, every single imperfection, every single scar you have belongs to me, and I love each and every one of them.” He kissed her shoulder. “Non bisogna mai dubitare che.”

  Her lids slid closed as she whispered, “I don’t doubt that.”

  “You do.” Luciano curved his hand over her sex. “But you shouldn’t.” He thrust two fingers into her slippery core. “Because you have everything that I could ever desire. Mi hai capito?”

  She nodded, gleaming white teeth trapping her bottom lip as she moved against his hand.

  “Say the words, bella. I want to hear them.”

  “Yes…” She gripped his wrist. “I understand.”

  “Good.” He took his hand away and bent her over the sink, bringing a hand down on her buttocks, watching it shake with the force. “That’s for doubting that you’re still as lust-inspiring to me as you were the first time I laid eyes on you.” Luciano slapped the other cheek, and she gripped the granite top. “And that’s for shutting me out.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  He shook his head. “Not good enough, sweetheart.” When he went for his belt, she froze. “You clearly need to learn a lesson in communication,” Picking her up, he started towards the bedroom and tossed her on the bed. “And I’m going to teach you.”

  Chapter Four

  Okay, so she’d made an error in judgment where her husband was concerned, but was that really a reason to truss her up like a Luau pig?

  “Luc?”

  “Hmm?” He tugged at her wrists, clearly making sure the belt was good and tight.

  “Can’t we talk about this? In a clear, rational fashion?”

  Luciano gave her a slow, wide smile, and she smiled back. Then, with a shrug of those huge shoulders, he simply said, “No.”

  Not the response Samara was hoping for here. Yet she shuddered from the determined stare he cast her. They hadn’t played this particular game in a long, long time and God help her, she was anticipating the moment he’d touch her again. She hadn’t had some sudden turn of confidence from his heartfelt admission, but knowing what he saw when he looked at her, hearing the unadulterated desire in his voice as he talked about every part of her body that he loved, put her at ease.