He cradled her against his chest. His heartbeat echoed through her body, like they had gone from two separate people to one.
“I can walk.” She didn’t sound like herself. Who was that woman with the husky, I-want-you voice?
“You were going too slow.” He carried her through her open bedroom door and laid her on the clean, floral sheets.
She was vaguely aware that there was something she needed to tell him, but then he kissed her, and she decided it didn’t matter. Nothing could be more important than kissing him again.
She brought his body over hers, large and vital and pulsing with need. For her.
His mouth grazed the shell of her ear. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
Like some mean-spirited deity had flipped a switch, all traces of desire fled her system.
He didn’t understand. He thought she was inexperienced. The victim of a few unskilled partners. That he could add in a little extra foreplay and she’d come like a porn star.
She must have pushed away from him, because he rolled to the side and levered himself up on one arm.
“What’s wrong?” There was no trace of annoyance in his tone, only worry.
“I have to tell you something.” She hugged a pillow to her chest. Her heart was pulsing all the way up in her throat, making it hard to talk. “I’ve never…. I mean, I’ve tried. Believe me, I’ve tried. But I’ve never actually managed to….”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re a virgin?”
“No!” She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that might stop all the blood in her body from rushing to her cheeks. “But I’ve never…you know. Enjoyed it.”
“Hey.” His knuckles traced her cheek so gently she wanted to cry. “Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open.
“You mean you’ve never had an orgasm?”
“Not while anyone else was in the room.”
His lips turned up, hinting at that grin she loved. The one that said everything was going to be okay, because he was Ty MacKinnon, and the universe existed merely to please him. “Is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“I thought you were gonna tell me you were really a man or you had to listen to opera music to get in the mood.”
“Seriously, Ty. It’s not like Christian was the first. I haven’t been with a ton of guys, but there have been enough that, statistically speaking, I’m pretty sure I’m the problem.”
His grin disappeared as quickly as it had formed. “Fuck statistics.”
“You can’t ignore—”
“There’s nothing wrong with you. And no amount of charts, graphs, and data points is gonna convince me, so you might as well give it up professor.”
“I want to. But I don’t know how.”
“You don’t need to know how. I’m gonna lead.” His hands combed through her hair, massaging her scalp. “All you have to do is follow.”
Just like on the dance floor, her body naturally conformed to his, her head tilting at the barest direction from his hands. His lips were inches from hers, but he didn’t kiss her. He held her steady, letting her see exactly how much he wanted her.
Her body sparked to life. She didn’t just want his kiss, she needed it.
The pressure of his lips was an unspeakable relief. Her body strained toward his. They’d been apart too long. Forever.
He kissed her with his whole body. His arms pulled her close, his hips rolled into hers, and his tongue plunged into her mouth, each movement a message—I want you.
She wanted him too. She wanted him so close there was no room for doubt. No room for any thoughts at all.
His fingers found the row of buttons that fastened her shirt. She was faintly aware of him undoing them, but then his lips were tracing her neck.
She pressed closer. His stubble rasped against her skin, marking her.
Her breath caught in her throat. More. She needed—
Her top came off with a single tug of his hands.
He levered himself up to undo her bra clasp, and a blast of deja vu hit her along with the cold air from the AC vent.
This had happened before. After prom, she and Ty had—
“You’re thinking.” He brushed a light kiss over her lips. “You know what I told you about that.”
He was right. She needed this. She wasn’t going to let her insecurities ruin her best chance at a normal life.
She shrugged off her bra.
Ty’s eyes went dark. Hot.
“C’mere.” He pulled her close.
She needed that. His skin against hers, hot and eager and here.
She tugged at his shirt, but she didn’t have the right angle.
He reached behind his head and pulled it off. There was nothing between them now, and she wasn’t cold anymore. His whole body was hot, muscles straining, skin damp and musky.
His hands traced a path from her waist to her collarbone, and her body responded, no hint of hesitation or fear. She wanted his hands all over her—everywhere—but he kept missing the good parts. Every. Single. Time.
He was teasing her.
“You…” She couldn’t turn the desperation inside her head into a coherent sentence. All she could do was press her body to his, wordlessly pleading.
Still, he made her wait. He kissed her until every single muscle strained toward him.
Then, finally, his hand found her breast. His rough skin against her sensitized nipple made pressure coil deep in her belly. She shifted restlessly.
It still wasn’t enough. She clutched at Ty, grabbing anything she could, desperate to get him closer. And then he was on top of her.
Her legs opened instinctively, forming a cradle for his thighs. For that rigid, throbbing pressure right where she was aching.
A groan tore from Ty’s throat.
She found the buttons at his fly, but her fingers weren’t working right.
Ty ripped the buttons open. He shoved his jeans and boxers off as she kicked her legs free of her skirt.
The only barrier between them was a fragile layer of cotton. He traced the hem of her panties with one finger, and she arched in desperate need.
“I want you so bad.” His words were low. Guttural.
She could feel how it was going to be when he was inside her. The heat. The desperation.
“I….” The words wouldn’t come. The only language she could speak was more ancient than words. Her moan answered by his groan. His weight shifting against her. Her body’s desperate arch as she tried to get closer.
Somehow, her panties came off. She held her breath. His thumb found that place where she most needed his touch and circled in the perfect rhythm.
Then there was nothing but her and Ty and the pressure gathering low in her belly, building and building until her whole body shook with it. And, still, there was more.
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t believe… She’d waited so long…
The thought disappeared, overwhelmed with wave after wave of pure pleasure.
She hadn’t thought it was possible, but Ty had done it. Ty had given her this miracle.
She closed her eyes and breathed him in. Nobody else felt like this. No one else was Ty.
She came back to herself, limp and boneless and sated, just in time to see Ty rolling on a condom.
His gaze locked onto her, eyes sparking with desire. One look, and the pressure coiled inside her once again.
He breathed in, nostrils flaring. “I’ll go slow.”
She didn’t want him to go slow. She wanted him inside her. Now.
He lowered himself over her. She wrapped her legs around his hips. Arched against him.
His body was covered with a sheen of sweat. She could smell him—a concentrated form of his usual musky scent that sent a gush of moisture between her legs.
The tip of him nudged her entrance.
It wasn’t enough.
“Ty?” She kissed him hard. Desperate. “I don’t want you to go slow.”
His whole body shuddered. “Annabelle, sweetheart.” He pushed into her—a few inches that only teased her into madness.
Her body was needy and desperate, beyond ready, like she’d been waiting seven years for this. “Now, Ty. Please.”
He groaned, surging into her.
Being filled by him was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She wanted to stay like this forever, but her body refused to be still. She had to… She needed…
His fingers found her once again. “Come with me, sweetheart.”
She was with him, joined as completely as possible, the line between their bodies a blur of grasping hands and arching bodies.
The pressure inside her built higher than before.
Her eyes wanted to close, but she refused to allow it. If this was the only night she had with Ty, she would remember all of it.
He plunged into her, hard and desperate, groaning unintelligible words into her mouth.
And then she realized he was saying her name.
Annabelle.
Her core clenched around him, even as the rest of her body went weak, overrun with waves of pleasure.
She tried to call his name—she wanted him to know what he was doing to her—but she couldn’t be sure if she said it out loud.
He pumped his release into her, and his body went limp.
He was heavy against her, but she didn’t want him to move. Not now. Maybe not ever.
Eventually, he got up, but only to discard the condom. Then he was back, pulling her so close his breath whispered against her forehead. His heart beat against her cheek. And, for once in her life, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
He cleared his throat. “That was….”
The ensuing silence was so absolute, she could hear the blood rushing through her veins.
“I know,” she said, quickly. She didn’t want him to put it into words. She didn’t want to think about what this meant. Not yet.
His arms tightened, but he didn’t say another word. His breathing grew slower, deeper, and hers followed. She drifted into fairytale dreams, where she and Ty found their happily-ever-after.
*
Annabelle wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep when Ty woke her with a soft kiss at the base of her throat. She would have sworn she’d used up her quota of orgasms for the decade, but he was slow and thorough, and by the time he was done she was shivering with pleasure.
She lay in the circle of his arms, coming down from another epic high. “How did you do that?”
He stretched, every inch of his body radiating satisfaction. “It’s three AM and I’m about to pass out. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
“The way you…” She took a deep breath and forced the words out. “When you make me come, it’s so much stronger than it’s ever been before. I don’t understand how you…” What the heck was she doing? Did she really want to know exactly how often Ty had practiced with other women? “Forget it.”
He pulled her even closer. “It’s simple. I read you.”
“Like I’m a book?”
“Not exactly. It’s more like…when I touch you, I can tell what you’re feeling, because I’m feeling it too.” He huffed out a laugh. “That sounded crazy, didn’t it?”
“N-no. I know what you mean.” She knew, because she felt it too. And it scared the crap out of her, because the connection was even stronger than it had been in high school.
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about it, but I’ve gotta know. I think tonight proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that you don’t need any more lessons. But I don’t want you disappearing from my life. We can take things as slow as you want, but at least tell me you’ll give us a chance.”
“You want to date?”
“I don’t care what we call it. As long as I get to be with you.”
The words should have terrified her, but with her head pillowed on Ty’s bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, she was cocooned in warmth. She’d taken a major risk tonight, and it hadn’t ended in disaster. Far from it.
She took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s give it a try.”
It was time to live her life. Despite the risks.
*
Annabelle came awake slowly, dragged from oblivion by an insistent hammering. Ty must’ve decided to finish putting together the bookcase. That was sweet of him, even if he had woken her from her deepest sleep in years.
Except the instructions had only called for a crescent wrench, not a hammer.
“Mmph,” grunted a masculine voice next to her.
Ty’s voice. Ty was in bed with her.
Which meant the hammering wasn’t hammering after all. It was…
She sat up, trying to coax her sleepy brain into finishing that thought.
The pounding ended abruptly. There was the unmistakable snick of a key turning in a lock.
Her blood ran cold, and she was suddenly, fully awake.
“Ty!” She jerked him up by one arm. “Get up! It’s my parents!”
CHAPTER 11
“WHA…?” TY PRIED his eyes open. He hadn’t been that deep under since he’d learned the art of the combat nap.
“Get dressed!”
He caught the boxers Annabelle hurled at him. The panic in her voice cleared the last of the sleep from his brain, and—shit—how had he missed those footsteps? They were thundering down the hall like an entire battalion charging forward.
He pulled on his jeans without wasting time on the boxers. His shirt was on the other side of the room, but before he could get it, Annabelle yanked it over her head.
“You’re not still in bed, are you?” called a voice that sounded almost like Annabelle’s. “We called five times.”
“Hang on, Mamma. I’m getting dressed.” Annabelle grabbed her panties, stuck one leg through the hole, and almost fell over trying to get the other one in.
“If you were sick, you should have called. I would have dropped off some stracciatella before—” The woman stopped half way through the doorway.
It had been seven years since Ty’s brief encounter with Annabelle’s parents before the prom, but Mrs. V looked exactly the same—like an older version of Annabelle—and Ty couldn’t help grinning. This wasn’t the way he’d planned on introducing himself to Annabelle’s family, but he had to work with what he was given.
He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Hello, Mrs. Voretti. You probably don’t remember me, but—”
Annabelle elbowed him perilously close to the family jewels.
He hissed in a breath. But maybe it was a good thing Annabelle had shut him up, because Mrs. V was glaring at him like she’d have broken the hand he’d been about to offer her.
“Annabelle Francesca Voretti! What is the meaning of this?”
“Calm down, Mamma.” Annabelle tugged his shirt lower over her hips—like that was gonna help everybody forget she was only half dressed. “I can explain.”
“Then let’s hear it.” Annabelle’s father pushed into the room, his face I’m-about-to-kill-your-boyfriend red.
Three younger men piled in behind him. Annabelle’s brothers weren’t kids any longer, and they were ready to do some serious damage.
“What the fuck?”
“Who is this guy?”
“Damn it, Annabelle!”
They surrounded him like a fire team getting ready to take out a tango, the two twins on his left, and the other—no less dangerous despite the baby strapped into a front carrier—on his right.
Annabelle shrank back, and Ty fought the urge to strike first. As long as he and Annabelle presented a calm, united front, there was no reason this had to end badly.
He put his arm around her.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “You’re making it worse.”
He dropped his arm but kept himself glued to her side. Hell if he’d let her face this alone. “Okay. I’ll be honest, guys. This wasn’t how I planned to meet the family, but—”
<
br /> “Tyler MacKinnon.” Mr. V pronounced his name like it translated to spoiled dog shit in Italian. “I remember you. You took my daughter to that dance.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We did not have much chance to talk the last time we met.”
Ty was hyper-aware of Annabelle standing stiffly at his side, mad as hell that he hadn’t made himself disappear. “No, sir.”
Annabelle had pulled him out of the house like it was on fire, but now the entire Voretti clan was glaring at Ty like he’d kidnapped their precious baby at gunpoint instead of driving her to the prom.
Annabelle muttered a word he was pretty sure had never come out of her mouth before, and he got this strange, hollow feeling in his stomach. Worry.
He didn’t fucking like it. He needed to get the conversation back on track. “I joined the military after high school, and I’ve spent most of the last seven years overseas. Now that I’m back, I hope we can get to know each other.”
“Yes.” Mr. V glared some more. “You will come for dinner, and I will show you my home.”
“I’d love to.” Ty would just be sure not to leave Annabelle’s side, in case Mr. V got any crazy ideas about showing him how sharp the kitchen knives were or the sound his baseball bat made when it connected with Ty’s skull.
“A military man like yourself will appreciate my collection.”
“What kind of a collection are we talking about?”
“I think of it as a piece of history.”
“Papa, please.” Annabelle’s voice had a panicked note, and the hollow in Ty’s stomach grew.
“Did you know that Sig Sauer began as a wagon factory? A few years later, they won a competition to design a rifle for the Swiss army. I have one of the original Prelaz-Burnand rifles—a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. And, of course, their more modern offerings. What do you think about the P226, Tyler?”
“A very nice weapon.” He tried to give Annabelle a reassuring smile, but she was looking at everything but him.
“Papa,” she tried again.
Mr. V was too busy incinerating Ty with his glare to listen. “Maybe for a little boy shooting targets at a Sunday picnic. The P226 is shit compared to my SIGM400 Predator. Of course, we all have our favorites. Rafe prefers the M24. And Alessandro and Matteo have been known to use an SR-25.”
Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) Page 12
