One Step Closer (Erotic Romance) Book 1 (The DeLuca Brothers)

by Lucinda DuBois

  “Hey there, Mr. Davis,” Frank extended a hand.

  Mr. Davis chuckled as he shook Frank’s hand. “I think you’re old enough to call me Clyde.”

  Frank just smiled. He’d been twelve when he’d first met Clyde Davis. Calling the older man by his first name would’ve been like heading down to the old parish and calling his old priest ‘Bobby.’

  “What can I get you?”

  “A beer. Surprise me on the kind,” Frank looked around, marveling at how little had changed. The television above the bar was newer, bigger, but the jukebox in the corner was the same. He’d never heard it play because the television was always on, but it had stayed there just the same. The stools were the same, as were the handful of tables and chairs. He had a feeling if he went to the table in the far back right corner, he’d see where he’d carved a heart with his initials and hers. At the time, he hadn’t even realized he’d been doing it, he’d just been unable to get her out of his mind. It had been the first time he’d ever realized that he felt something for her other than friendship.

  “Here you go,” Mr. Davis handed Frank a chilled bottle that looked like it could have been the exact same one he’d given Frank all those years ago on Frank’s twenty-first birthday. The boys had snuck drinks before they were legal age, but Mr. Davis had always made a big deal of giving them an ‘official’ beer on their birthdays.

  “Thanks,” Frank took the beer, grateful for the distraction from where his thoughts had been headed.

  “So, when did you get back?”

  Frank managed to suppress a laugh. The question made it sound like he’d been abroad for a year or away at college, not that he’d moved across the country and hadn’t visited in a decade. Wasn’t that the way it always was though, when you went home? It was always ‘back.’ He took a swig of his drink and then answered. “Not too long ago. I wanted to stop by and see Vincent before I headed over to the house.” He didn’t have to explain why his brother wouldn’t be joining him. Everyone in the neighborhood knew about the falling out between Vincent and Anthony. The men at Delancy’s knew how far the breach had gone.

  “Get me one of what he’s having, will you, Mr. Davis?” The familiar voice came from behind Frank.

  Mr. Davis shook his head. “I keep telling you boys to call me Clyde, for all the good it does me.” He shuffled off to get another beer.

  “Vincent,” Frank turned slightly in his seat as his brother settled on the stool next to him. Some siblings would’ve hugged after a decade apart, some might have shook hands. Frank gave a nod and Vincent returned it. With their mother and their women, the DeLuca men were openly affectionate. With each other, however, not so much. It was just their way.

  “You look like California’s agreed with you,” Vincent glanced up at the television. “Who’s playing?”

  “The Knicks and the Lakers,” Frank answered, the irony of his answer not lost on him. “You’re looking good. Feds keeping you fit?”

  Vincent thanked Mr. Davis as he accepted his drink. “I train more than they require,” he took a drink and then frowned at the bottle. “And I don’t drink as much as I’d like.”

  “The job that difficult?” Frank was honestly curious. His job was stressful, but for an entirely different reason. He worried about money and board meetings, a far cry from domestic terrorism threats and kidnapping cases. He didn’t envy his little brother the burden of what he did.

  Vincent shrugged. “It has its good days and its bad days, like most jobs I suppose.” He looked down at his hands for a moment before turning his attention back to the television. “Some days, it would drive anyone to drink, but then there are the days when you get to do enough good that it makes the bad seem worthwhile.”

  They fell into a comfortable silence for several minutes, just watching the game and taking the occasional sip of their beers. None of the DeLucas were heavy drinkers, not even Sal when he’d gone through a bit of a partying phase a few years back. Sometimes, they could nurse a single beer all night and they rarely touched anything harder.

  “Vincent,” Frank broke the silence, then hesitated. He wanted to ask the question, but didn’t know if he really wanted the answer. His brother waited, perhaps sensing what was coming next. Frank closed his eyes and forced himself to ask about her. “How are Sofia and Gio doing?”

  “Divorced, about a year ago,” Vincent kept his voice nonchalant even though Frank knew that Vincent understood the significance of his answer.

  Frank felt a flash of happiness go through him and pushed it aside. It didn’t matter. What they had done was unforgivable. Wasn’t it? Rather than debate with himself, he changed the subject. “So, how often do you get to the house to see Ma?”

  “Not as much as I’d like,” Vincent admitted, a touch of regret in his voice. “You know how it is when you’re trying to prove yourself in a job. I don’t think I’ve worked less than a sixty hour week since I started with the Bureau.”

  “And, of course, there’s the fact that you won’t step foot in the house if Anthony’s around,” Frank added.

  “That too.” The two words were tense.

  “Vincent, I have to ask,” Frank turned towards his brother. “Is there any way you’d consider just setting aside your differences long enough to spend some time with the family? I’m sure Ma would love to have all of us together again.”

  Vincent was shaking his head before Frank had even finished. “I can’t do that, Frank. You should know better than to ask.”

  “Come on, Vincent, is it really that impossible?” Frank pressed.

  “Look,” Vincent turned towards Frank, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I’m not the one in the wrong, here, Frank. If my family would stop breaking the law, everything would be fine, but as long as I know that he’s doing what he’s doing, I can’t help. It’s hard enough staying out of it at work. I can’t sit under the same roof, knowing that if it were anyone but my family, I’d have him in handcuffs.”

  Frank sighed. He hadn’t really been expecting anything different, but it was still disappointing. He would’ve liked to have all of his brothers together at once. It wasn’t until just then that he understood just how much that would mean to him. He drained the last of his beer and stood. “Well, everyone else is waiting back at the house.”

  “Then you’d better get going,” Vincent stood as well. “Ma’ll kill me if she thinks I kept you.”

  “Wouldn’t want that,” Frank gave his younger brother a smile.

  “Nope,” Vincent returned it with a grin of his own. “Don’t be a stranger, Frank.”

  Frank nodded but didn’t make any promises. He knew better and Vincent knew better than to ask. He could do one thing though. “I’ll call you before I leave.”

  “Sounds good,” Vincent made as if to move towards Frank, then caught himself. The DeLuca boys didn’t hug. He returned to his seat. “I’ll see you around, Frank.”

  Chapter 3

  Frank nodded as he buttoned up his coat and headed for the door. The wind had died down a bit, but it was still cold enough that he shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled his coat more tightly around him. It wasn’t until he passed the third person wearing an unzipped jacket that he realized it might not have been as cold as he’d first thought. Maybe he’d just gotten used to the weather on the West Coast. The idea bothered him more than he liked.

  When he arrived back at the house, he paused at the sidewalk, a million thoughts flooding through his mind. What if his mother really was mad at him? What if his brothers were angry that he hadn’t been around? Or, worse, what if they hadn’t missed him at all? He took a deep breath and stepped forward. He hadn’t made himself into a multi-millionaire by holding back just because something frightened him. As always, the first step was the hardest.

  He hesitated at the door, raising his hand to knock before thinking better of it. If he knocked, it was acknowledgement that this was no longer his home, that he’d been gone too long. The moment he opened the doo
r and stepped inside, he knew he’d made the right choice. As he slipped off his shoes, he inhaled deeply, the scents of his childhood wafting over him. Roast beef and baked potatoes. Homemade bread. And underneath it, lemon-scented furniture polish and the baking soda his mother always used on the rugs. They were all good smells, ones that brought back memories of safety and love. Birthday parties and holidays. Coming in to a home-cooked meeting after football practice. Hot cocoa as a thank you for shoveling the driveway. Watching Sal take his first steps. Wrestling on the living room rug while Maria hollered at them to stop. High school and college graduation celebrations.

  “Frank?” It was a man’s voice, deeper than he’d heard it last, but still familiar enough for him to know which brother was coming.

  “Sal,” Frank grinned as his youngest brother came into the living room. His surprise must have shown in his eyes as he realized that Sal was only two inches shorter than he was, because Sal laughed.

  “I hit a growth spurt my senior year,” Sal offered by way of explanation. He didn’t mention that Frank would’ve known if he’d come back for the graduation.

  “You look good, Kid,” Frank patted Sal on the shoulder.

  “You’re just saying that because I look like you,” Sal stepped to one side as Maria came through the doorway.

  Frank had a moment to realize just how true his brother’s statement was and then his mother was wrapping her arms around him and he was leaning over to accommodate their considerable height difference. No matter how old he got or how much bigger he was than his mother, he always felt like a little boy when he was in her arms.

  “Francis,” Maria pressed her face against his shoulder.

  Frank swallowed past the lump in his throat and didn’t say anything about the use of his proper first name. Maria called all of the boys by their full first names. “Hey, Ma.”

  “I’ll go get Sergio and Anthony from the backyard,” Sal said as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  There were tears in Maria’s eyes when she pulled away and Frank felt another stab of guilt. “You’re thinner than the last time I saw you. Don’t you eat well out in California?”

  Frank bit back a smile. He’d put on weight since moving, just by virtue of being older. “I can’t find anyone to match your cooking, Ma.” That, at least, was the truth.

  “Well, I’ve got a roast in the oven and all your favorites,” Maria couldn’t stop smiling. “We’ll get you eating right again.”

  “You didn’t have to do that, Ma,” Frank protested.

  “Hush,” Maria gave him a stern look that was compromised by the joy on her face. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t take care of my firstborn?”

  “Listen to that, boys,” Anthony’s booming voice came from the doorway. “Gone for ten years and he still gets the fatted calf.”

  “It’s good to see you too, Anthony,” Frank ignored the comment. That was just Anthony. Any chance he got to bust Frank’s balls, he took it.

  “Hiya, Frank,” Sergio gave a half wave from where he stood behind Anthony. The dark circles under his eyes told Frank that the next to youngest DeLuca was still putting in insane hours at work.

  “Why don’t we all sit down and catch up while we’re waiting for the roast to finish up,” Maria’s tone made it anything but a suggestion. Not that any of the boys would ever dare do anything other than what she asked.

  Frank settled on the couch next to his mother while his brothers took the two remaining chairs and Sal stretched out on the floor. The spot on the other side of Maria was empty, but no one sat there and no one mentioned why it wasn’t filled. That was Vincent’s seat. It didn’t matter that it had been years since all five of them had been in the living room together. None of them would take his seat.

  “So, Frank, how’s the adventure business?” Anthony asked.

  “Profitable,” Frank answered with a bit of pride in his voice. He’d worked hard to get where he was and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. “I’ll be taking it to Paris next month.”

  “Paris?” Maria sounded impressed.

  “You already have locations in England, Italy and Spain, right?” Sal surprised Frank by speaking up.

  “That’s right,” Frank gave Sal a questioning look.

  Sal shrugged. “I keep tabs on everyone.”

  Frank looked away from his youngest brother. Sometimes he forgot that Sal had the fewest memories from when they’d all been together as a family. Sergio had at least a few faint ones of their father. Sal had none. His brothers were the closest thing to a father he’d known and now Frank wondered if that was how Sal had seen it when he’d gone away, that another father had left him.

  Sergio, perhaps sensing Frank’s mood growing somber, asked, “So, anyone special in your life, big brother?”

  Frank shook his head. “I get my fair share of -” he glanced at his mother and flushed “attention, but there’s no single girl I spend my time with.” He saw his brothers exchange glances and defended himself. “I’m too busy for a relationship, that’s all.”

  The expressions on their faces told him that they didn’t believe a word of it. He opened his mouth to reiterate his claim when a movement from the kitchen doorway caught his eye. He glanced that way and froze.

  It was nothing more than a glimpse, but he knew who it was. He would’ve recognized the gasp even if he’d been deaf, would have known the face even if he’d been blind. He would always know her.

  Sofia.

  Her name was on his lips and he only just stopped himself from saying it out loud. He couldn’t, however, stop himself from remembering what that last night had been like.

  ***

  Frank cupped her cheek, the skin hot against his palm. He always marveled at how, even after all these years, the mere touch of her body sent a thrill through him. When their lips met, it was more than the hundredth or the thousandth time they’d kissed, but they made it feel as if it was new. Frank wrapped one arm around Sofia’s waist and pulled her closer. As their lips moved together, Frank dropped his hand from Sofia’s face to cup her ass. She moaned as Frank’s tongue parted her lips and she pushed her hips against his. He was hard against her stomach.

  “Sofia,” he gasped her name as he tore his mouth from hers. His hands moved between them, pulling at ties and buttons. “I want you naked.”

  She laughed at that, a melodious sound that never failed to turn him on. She tugged at his dress shirt, sending buttons flying. “Have I ever told you how much I like when you’re straightforward?”

  Frank grinned and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” He kept his eyes on her face as he yanked open her blouse, scattering her buttons across the apartment living room. When Sofia nodded, Frank pushed her shirt from her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor. “Then I should probably tell you that I’m going to fuck you senseless tonight, that I won’t be satisfied until you’re hoarse from screaming and your body can’t take another orgasm.”

  Sofia shivered at his words and the scramble to remove the rest of their clothing became more frantic. Spurred on by the arousal flushing Sofia’s silky skin, Frank kept talking.

  “I’ll never get tired of you, of your body. The feel of your skin beneath my fingers, sliding against mine, slick with sweat. The way your tongue feels in my mouth,” Frank was vaguely aware that he was tearing Sofia’s bra and panties in his rush to get them off, but he didn’t care. Judging by the expression on Sofia’s face, she shared the sentiment. It had been months since they’d last seen each other and phone sex just wasn’t the same. Nothing was a good enough substitute for flesh on flesh.

  Frank pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the side of Sofia’s throat as he ran his hands down her ribs, his thumbs skimming over the sides of her ample breasts. As he rained kisses down her neck and across her shoulders and collarbone, he continued to speak, his words punctuated by moans as Sofia’s hands explored the broad expanse of his back.

  “I’ve been dreaming about thi
s moment for weeks, waking up so hard that I have to jerk off just so it doesn’t hurt anymore. I want to bury my cock in your pussy, feel you squeeze me so tight. I’m going to take you on the couch, in the shower, in the bed, everywhere and anywhere.”

  When Sofia’s fingers closed around his cock, he swore, everything he’d intended to say instantly disappearing. She stroked him slowly, bringing him to full size even as her touch ignited the fire deep inside him. Finally, he could take it no more and grabbed her wrist, stilling her hand. She looked at him expectantly and smiled as he dropped to his knees. The moment his lips touched her pussy, she cried out.

  ***

  That cry echoed in Frank’s ears and the taste of her lingered on his tongue. That night, they had fucked and they’d made love. Fast and wild, slow and sweet. He couldn’t remember a time he’d cum so many times in just one night. Each time, he’d thought he was done, but Sofia’s hands and mouth had brought him back until the pleasure had been edged with pain. They’d finally passed out in his bed, all energy drained. He’d awoken hours later to find their limbs tangled together with the sheets, the sweat on their bodies long since dried. He’d just lain there, watching her sleep.

  It should have been a great start to an amazing three-day weekend, but that last night had been the beginning of the end. The call from work had come at eight the next morning. He’d left Sofia a note saying that he’d gone in to the office for a few hours, but those few hours had turned into all day. When he’d arrived back at his apartment, Sofia had been gone and she’d left a note for him. Even after eight years he could still remember what it had said.

  If she’d been angry, he supposed things would’ve been different, but the note hadn’t been angry at all. Instead, she’d said that she understood how much his business meant to him and that he’d worked so hard to get where he was. She’d said that as they’d spent the last two years apart, she’d seen how much time and effort he had to put into his work, that time he spent with her was time he was often wishing he was at work. In the last paragraph, she’d told him that she wasn’t going to hold him back any longer and that he was now free to throw himself whole-heartedly into his work.