“There’s where you’re wrong.” I skimmed my lips over her cheekbone, her jaw and the tip of her nose. “I don’t know for sure, but I think maybe love makes the impossible stuff happen.” I thought of my meeting with Danielle Romano today and envelope sitting on the backseat of my car even now. I still hadn’t mentioned anything to Amanda. I considered doing it now, but what we were talking about was too important to risk veering off course. Plus, I didn’t want her to think I’d finally owned up to loving her only because there was a better chance for us to be together.
She lifted her chin, her eyes glued to mine as she searched there for an answer she must have found. A sort of peace settled over her face, and she reached up to link her hands behind my neck.
“I love you, Vincent. I didn’t expect to love you, because you’re completely unexpected and not at all the type of man I thought I’d end up loving. But you’re you, and I love everything about you. I love your grumpiness, and the glint in your eye when I tease you out of it. I love when we’re walking together, and you suddenly grab my hand, like you just remembered I was there and you want to keep me close. I love when we’re driving, and a song you like comes on, and you sing along. I love that your family is important to you, and that you like my mother, and that you can cook me foods I can’t even pronounce. I love you, Vincent, and I don’t even know all the reasons why. I just know I do.”
For a long moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, our gazes locked, until a sudden and inexplicable joy bubbled within me, and all I could do was scoop Amanda into my arms and kiss her breathless.
“I love you, babe. I won’t ever be able to tell you how much, but I can show you.”
A bright smile curved her lips. “I’m very difficult to convince, you know. You might have to show me more than once.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Baby, I love how your mind works.”
Amanda nuzzled my neck, inhaling deep. “I love how your body works. And how my body works with yours.”
Using one finger, I slid her robe down until it caught at her elbows and billowed there, leaving her bare to me but for the green lace of her panties. So often when we were together, we were frantic and frenzied, eager to make up for the time we’d missed. We could barely keep our hands off each other, tearing away clothes and plunging together, taking it all fast and furious. If we ever did anything slowly, it was when we were both half-asleep, drowsy as we drifted off at night or came awake in the morning.
But now, I realized that I wanted more than fast and frenzied. I wanted slow and intentional and sensual and tantalizing touches that left Amanda no choice but to feel how much I loved her. I didn’t want her to have a sliver of doubt about that.
With the lightest of caresses, my lips traveled down her neck. With a sigh, Amanda let her head drop back, lolling and giving me better access. I bent, kissing her collar bone and down the center of her chest. Her hands raked through my hair.
“Vincent.” My name was a prayer, a breath.
“Amanda.” I nudged her backwards until her legs met the edge of the mattress. She sank down into the bed, and keeping my eyes on her as she lay back, I toed off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off and then shed my pants.
When I climbed alongside her, she turned her head to gaze up at me. “Do you know what a beautiful man you are?”
I smirked. “Not sure anyone has ever accused me of that one, babe.”
“But you are. Every line of your body . . . every muscle and movement . . . it’s almost poetic in its beauty. You move like a tiger.”
“Hmmm.” I braced myself above her. “Maybe I am. A tiger, I mean.” I leaned down and fastened my mouth around one pink nipple. “Tigers, you know . . . they’re known for their prowess. And one thing you should remember. Tigers show no mercy. Ever.”
“Mercy, huh?” Amanda’s lips curved. “Are we flashing back to that very first night? The time when you begged me to have mercy on you?”
“Funny you should mention that. Because tonight it’s your turn. Now lay still and get ready to beg.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, I shifted to her other breast and sucked hard on the nipple. She groaned and arched.
“Tell me, baby. What does it feel like when my tongue circles you here? When my teeth . . .” I fastened them lightly and scraped upward. “When they do that, does it make your pussy wet and aching for me?”
Amanda gripped my neck. “Yes.”
“Good.” I slipped my fingers between her legs and found that she was telling the truth. “Mmmm. You feel good here.” Even as I explored her silken folds, I didn’t touch her clit. Instead, I touched everywhere else but there, smiling a little when she gave a small cry of frustration.
“You smell good, too.” I shifted so that my mouth was over her stomach, pausing to kiss her navel and the hollows of her hips. “Like . . . spring flowers. And sunshine. And sex.” I began to move as though I was about to be where she wanted me, lying between her legs, but at the last minute, I changed direction and instead, kissed the smooth skin of her thigh and worked my way down the length of her leg.
“Vincent. God, please.” She lifted her leg, like she was trying to steer me in the direction she wanted.
“Please is getting close, but it’s not the word I’m waiting to hear.” I sat up and bent her leg so that I could maneuver my mouth to the back of her knee. “You’re so soft right here.” When she shivered, I grinned. “And sensitive, too, huh?”
“Yes.” She wriggled and reached for me. “Come here so I can touch you, too.”
“Not yet.” I lifted her other leg and gave it the same treatment. “We’re not in a rush, Amanda. Tonight . . . it’s all about slow, because we have the don’t need to be fast. We’re not hurrying through this. I want you to feel me and to remember every touch, every pleasure I give you.”
“I don’t think I’m likely to forget. Especially not if I end up combusting out of frustration.”
“We can’t have that.” I gave in—or seemed to—and settled at the apex of her legs, slinging one thigh over my shoulder. “Is this what you need, baby?” Dropping my mouth to her center, I licked her seam, one hard and hot stroke, and then I sucked her clit between my lips. Amanda gasped and hummed, encouraging me to go on with every small nonsensical sound issuing from her throat.
But when I knew she was close to exploding, I backed off, using my hands to tease lightly over her hips and up her ribcage.
Amanda groaned and lifted her head. “What the fuck are you doing? I was so close. I was about to come.”
“Were you, now?” I blew on the crease at the top of her leg where her muscle tensed. “Hmmm.” I pushed up to sit on my haunches, looking down her body, and took my cock into one hand. “That’s frustrating, isn’t it? When you’re right there . . . right on the edge of pleasure . . . just about to dive over into your climax . . . but you can’t quite get there, because the other person won’t touch you where you need it most.” Almost absently, I gave my erection a few hard pulls. “When it feels like you might die if he doesn’t do what you need—right now.”
“Vincent.” Her tone was almost threatening and bordered on hysterical. “Vincent, for the love of—”
“Now this feels fucking good.” I pumped myself a few more times. “I’m hard. Hard and long and ready for action. I could slide into you, stretch you, make you feel every inch of me. I could fuck you so hard, I drive you absolutely insane. I could make you scream my name.”
“Vincent!”
“Yeah, just like that.” I nodded.
“Please, Vincent.” She made a mad grab for my hand.
“One word, babe. One word, and I give us both what we want.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips opened to form the word I was dying to hear. And then I saw something else wash over her face—a sort of tenderness and joy. Instead of begging for mercy, she touched my knee, the only part of my body she could reach, and she murmured fou
r soft words.
“I love you, Vincent.”
It killed me. It absolutely destroyed me that she’d been smart enough and observant enough to know that there was a way to get around crying uncle, and she’d found it.
“I love you, Vincent, and I know you love me. And I know you’d never deny me what we both want. Not when this is so much more important tonight than just proving who can hold out longer.”
Damn. I swallowed and stared into eyes that gleamed with both challenge and trust. Would I stand firm and make her give in . . . or would I be the man she believed I could be?
It wasn’t even a choice.
I eased up her body until my face hovered over hers and angled my head to kiss her, my lips soft and coaxing. Amanda’s hands circled me, her fingers playing against my spine. With one hand, I teased at her nipple until she squirmed beneath me, and then, holding onto my dick, I rubbed the head into her slickness.
“Because I love you, babe, I want us both to feel good.” I slid into her just a little, and it was so incredible that for a heady minute, I didn’t realize what I’d done. When I did, I hissed in a breath between clenched teeth.
“Fuck. I need a condom.”
“No.” Amanda held my face between her palms. “Not for me. Vincent, I’m on birth control. And I trust you. I want this. Don’t leave me. Not now.”
“Not ever.” No woman had ever trusted me this way, and I’d never wanted to trust one, either. This was a first, and it wasn’t something I took lightly. I kissed her again, and as my tongue stroked against hers, I thrust the rest of the way into her. “Never going to leave you, baby.”
She cried out and rose to meet me, to match the rhythm I set. All of my intentions for making this last, for taking it slow, fled as pleasure built between us. I ground the base of my cock against her clit, and Amanda dug her nails into my ass, urging me on.
“Amanda . . . babe. I love you.” I mumbled the words, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. “Love you.”
When she arched into me, muscles tensed as she cried out my name, I couldn’t hold back a minute longer. With a final plunge, I emptied myself into her, shuddering when I felt the spasms of her inner channels against my cock.
“God.” Amanda was breathing heavily as I fell onto the bed next to her, rolling so that we faced each other. “Vincent, that was . . . maybe I didn’t beg for mercy, but I would’ve.”
“No more begging.” I brushed back her hair. “This—what’s between us when we’re together, when we make love—that’s what it is. It’s not about power or who can hold out longer or who comes more than the other. It’s about what we give each other, and what we receive. Making you happy and giving you pleasure is all I want.”
She studied me, her eyes wide and serious. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you go and blow my mind all over again.”
“No one’s more surprised than me. I never planned on this. I never planned on you.”
“Am I a good surprise?” Amanda tilted her head. “Or do you ever wish you’d never walked up to me at the engagement party?”
“Never. No regrets. You’re the best kind of surprise.” I kissed her forehead. “You’re the kind of gift that makes me a better man than I’d ever hoped to be. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“You look beautiful. Stop fussing.” Vincent glanced at me out of the corner of his eye as we drove down the side street that led toward his parents’ house. “Your hair is perfect. Your face is perfect. And your body . . .” He waggled his eyebrows. “Fucking perfection.”
“You’re not a reliable source.” I shot him a glare. “You look at me like a boyfriend, not like a boyfriend’s family.”
“Babe, it’s not like you haven’t met everyone here already. You’re going in with every advantage. My brother-in-law is your best friend. My sister is one of your good friends. You know my mom and dad.” He paused. “Oh, and Frankie loves you already. She talks about your super cool apartment all the time.”
I groaned. “Great. Your eight-year-old niece thinks I’m nifty. That’s changes everything. And you’re missing the point, Vincent. Your family all knows me as Liam’s friend. Now, today, they’re meeting me as Vincent’s girlfriend—the one he’s been dating for months but never brought around, and what’s that about? Why didn’t I come over sooner?”
He shook his head. “No one’s going to think that. If anyone gets blamed, it’ll be me. Trust me, in my family, when all fails, blame Vincent.”
“That’s not true.” I frowned. I’d noticed before how Vincent spoke about his family—with love, of course, but also with an undercurrent of exasperation and frustration. It wasn’t anything I could relate to, since I didn’t have any siblings.
“I’m not having a pity party. That’s just the way it is.” He lifted one shoulder. “And my point is that they’ll all love you for being wonderful enough to take on the grump. So you don’t have anything to worry about.”
I rolled my eyes and gazed out the window, taking in the trees and blooming bushes of the pretty suburban neighborhood. Spring had more than sprung, and the days were getting both warmer and longer. I’d driven down here on Friday night after work, and yesterday, while Vincent had worked at the restaurant, I’d spent the afternoon on the beach, catching up on my reading before finals. It was the first time I’d spent an entire weekend in Seagrove City; while I’d spent the occasional Friday night or Saturday with Vincent, I always went back to Philadelphia before Sunday morning.
But this time, I hadn’t. I was on my way to my very first family supper with the DiMartinos. And I was unreasonably nervous about it. As Vincent had pointed out, I already knew everyone who would be at the house. Ava and Liam were going to be there, so I’d have the moral support of people who were friends. I’d always looked at Ava’s family as warm and welcoming, even if they were a tad overwhelming en masse, so why had that changed now that I saw them as Vincent’s family instead?
He turned a corner and slowed as we approached the two-story gray house with the well-kept yard. There were already two cars in the drive and another alongside the curb in front, and Vincent parked behind that one, in front of the house.
“Okay. Let’s do this.” He opened his door and climbed out before coming around to my side to offer me a hand. “You all set?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I grasped his fingers and let him pull me to my feet. “Damn, I should’ve brought flowers or wine or something. That’s what people do when they go to someone’s house for the first time. They bring something. I know this. How did I forget?”
“Amanda, this isn’t a dinner party with the governor. This is a family meal. No one expects you to bring anything. You just go in, yell hello . . . and then every pitches in until the food is on the table. It’s not fancy, and it’s not a big deal.” He rubbed his hands up and down my upper arms. “Just relax and be yourself. You’re pretty incredible, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”
I gave in to my nerves and let myself lean against him for a few seconds. Vincent was strong and steady, and when his arms wrapped around me, I felt so utterly safe and protected. It was an unfamiliar sense, because I’d always relied on myself and stood on my own feet. My parents had always been there for support and encouragement, but I’d prided myself at an early age that I could do anything on my own. The idea that now I didn’t have to be alone—that I could rely on Vincent—was a new and heady feeling. Now I had someone else who I could count on when I needed him, someone who wasn’t going to make me less or hem me in when he held me up.
“Hey.” He nudged my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. “You’re Amanda Simmons, and nothing and nobody scares you. Didn’t you tell me that last summer?”
I smiled a little. “That sounds like something I would’ve said. But maybe I was an idiot. Or just too cocky.”
“No, baby, I’m the cocky one in this relationship, remember?” He smirked, and I couldn’t resist lifting my lips
up to kiss him. I meant it to be just a light brush, but he gripped my arms and held me to him, coaxing my mouth to open as his tongue made lazy forays against mine.
“Mmmmm,” I hummed against his lips. “This is lovely but making out in the front yard isn’t going to win me any points with your mom. We should go in.”
“Yeah, I know.” He gave my ass a playful smack. “I might have to tell Ma that you were molesting me in front of the whole neighborhood, if she asks what we were doing out here.”
My eyes went wide in horror. “You wouldn’t.”
He shrugged. “Probably not. Unless she starts in on me and I need to throw someone under the bus.”
“Nice, Vincent.” I threaded my fingers through his as we began to make our way across the yard. “So how many girls have you brought home to meet your family?”
He slid me a glance that was speculative and apprehensive at the same time. “Counting now? Today? One.”
I came to an abrupt halt. “What? You’re kidding, right? I’m not the first woman you’ve introduced to your family. No way.”
“But you didn’t ask that. You asked how many I brought here. Sure, my parents and my brother have met women I was sleeping with. But I’ve never brought a woman here, home, for Sunday dinner with the whole bunch of them. You’re the first one.”
“Why?” I needed to hear this from him. I wasn’t normally an insecure woman, but I’d found that with Vincent, I craved his words of affection and reassurance. I needed to know how he felt—to hear it from his lips.
“Easy. Because you’re the first woman I’ve fallen in love with and wanted them to all meet.” He smiled down at me, and the truth of what he’d just said glowed in his eyes. “I love you, Amanda. And for me, that makes all the difference.”
“Me, too,” I murmured. “I’m glad I’m the first with you at something. But it does kind of up the ante for me, you know? They won’t have any comparison. They won’t think, well, at least she’s better than that skank he dated a few years back.”
Just Roll With It (A Perfect Dish Book 4) Page 19
