by Day Leclaire
He’d only met the woman in his arms hours ago. What did he know about her? They’d jumped into bed because desire had overridden all other considerations, their desperation for each other exceeding anything he’d ever experienced before. What happened when sanity returned? What happened if the flame burned hot and fast, then cooled to ashes?
He shook his head. No. He wouldn’t worry about that now. He’d learned the hard way to take one day at a time. For now, he’d protect this woman with his life. Tomorrow? He’d let tomorrow take care of itself.
Soft morning light teased Lucia’s face and she peeked through her lashes, struggling to figure out why everything looked so strange.
Then she remembered.
Warmth encased her. Male warmth. Delicious male warmth. She inhaled, drawing in Ty’s unique masculine scent. If she could bottle it, she’d wear it every day for the rest of her life. She’d never fallen so hard, so fast.
The Inferno must be responsible. She couldn’t think of any other reason why she’d jump into bed with a man she’d known for less than a day. She’d never done it before. Never even be tempted to have sex with a man who was little more than a stranger. Not after Andrew.
“Good morning.” Ty’s voice rumbled above her, rough with sleep.
She smiled against his chest. “Good morning.”
“Tell me you’re a coffee woman.”
“I’m a coffee woman. Tell me you like good coffee.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Thank God, she mouthed. “Would you mind if I take a shower?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Would you mind if I join you?”
She shivered against him, the thought a delicious temptation. “I’ve never had sex in a shower before.”
“I’m shocked, not to mention horrified,” he teased, planting a kiss on top of her head. “You have no idea what you’re missing.”
Lucia peeked up at him and grinned. “I’d have an idea if you showed me.”
“You’re on.”
“Then coffee?”
“Then coffee. You might have to drag me out of the shower and to the kitchen afterward.”
“I’ll tell you what . . . I’ll drag you if you drag me.”
“Deal.”
Rolling out of bed, he shocked her by sweeping her into his arms and carrying her into the shower. He didn’t release her until they stood in the middle of a marbled section of the bathroom, open to the rest of the room.
Ty pressed a series of buttons and an instant later, water rained down on them from multiple jets, some pulsating, others a hot, hard stream. Another press of a button and the jets eased to a soft mist that beaded on her skin like fairy kisses. In contrast, Ty took her mouth in deep, hungry ones, hurling her into instant arousal.
Then he backed her against the slick wall and cupped her bottom, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist. In one swift thrust, he drove home.
“Oh, God, Ty. Yes!”
“Not too sore?”
She shook her head and buried her face against the curve of his neck. “Never. Even if I was, I wouldn’t care.”
“I’d care.” His voice turned gritty with hunger. “I never want to do anything to hurt you.”
And then he moved, pinning her against the wall with each frantic thrust. She tried to match his rhythm, but their position and the slickness of the marble made it almost impossible. Instead, she held on and let him take the lead, tightening her inner muscles in tempo with his thrusts, their movements building toward a frantic crescendo.
It didn’t last long. It couldn’t. For some reason their need had grown desperate, despite having made love just a few short hours ago. With a muffled scream, she came, clinging to him helplessly. He followed her over with a guttural shout. For long moments neither moved. Reluctantly, she released her grip on his waist and slid down his body. The water kicked on again, a warm, gentle flow that eased them back to reality.
He didn’t speak, a characteristic she’d begun to accept. He simply ministered to her, filling his hands with bodywash and cleansing every inch of her body. She’d never had anyone take care of her like that before. Not ever. And yet, he did it so automatically, as though it were a natural part of his core personality. Then he made short work of scrubbing himself and that’s when she noticed the slashing scars ripping across his back.
Oh, dear God! What had happened to him? Had he been in an accident? Or were these scars from his military days? He’d said he’d had his illusions shattered during his service. Was whatever had occurred to cause these scars responsible for that? She didn’t dare ask. Every instinct warned her to let him bring it up at some point in the future.
When he’d finished rinsing, he gathered her close and kissed her with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. The more she got to know him, the more he revealed himself through his comments and actions, and the more she tumbled, teetering on the brink of falling in love. How was that possible after such a short time? It made no sense, unless . . .
Unless The Inferno was real. Unless it had pointed her to the man who matched her needs better than any other. Isn’t that what Gabe had discovered? And Primo and Nonna? And all of her half-brothers and cousins? Why did she resist what so many of her relatives had come to accept as reality? She shouldn’t allow one bad experience to keep her from the dream. And yet, she shied from trusting. From believing. From attempting to walk through a door that might slam shut in her face at any moment.
“I’m afraid.” The words escaped before she even realized they hovered on the tip of her tongue.
“Afraid of what’s happening between us?”
Could he read her mind? “Yes.”
“It’s definitely strange.”
He pulled her from the stall and wrapped a huge fluffy towel around her, dropping another on her head for her hair. Grabbing one for himself, he dried himself with brisk efficiency. Then he tackled her hair while she rubbed the moisture from her skin. Somehow, he knew to squeeze her hair and not rub it into a mass of tangles. Curls did not respond well to rubbing.
Securing his towel around his hips, he snagged his robe from the back of the door and tossed it to her. It smelled of him, a delicious combination of cedar and spice and some indefinable scent she couldn’t quite describe other than: Ty.
“May I borrow a comb? It’s going to take me a while to get my hair under control.”
“Sure.” He rummaged through a drawer in the bank of cabinets under the sink area. He held it out with a smile. “Coffee?”
“Definitely,” she said, working at the nest of snarls her hair had turned into during the night.
He didn’t bother to dress in more than a towel, just padded in the direction of the kitchen while she followed, finishing up one section of hair before moving on to the next. She hadn’t seen the kitchen the previous evening while Joe cooked for them. Somehow, she doubted the chef would have allowed them to invade his domain, even if it belonged to Ty.
Lucia looked around, impressed by the state-of-the-art appliances and huge island workspace. “Do you cook?”
“Sort of.”
She suppressed a smile. Working through the last of the snarls, she made fast work of braiding her hair. “I mean, do you cook.”
“Not like Joe.”
“Well, no. I doubt many people cook like Joe.”
“And if you were to ask Joe, he’d say no one cooks like him.”
She crossed to a small table set against a bow window and sat in one of the two chairs. She tucked one leg under her. “You haven’t answered my question.”
He sighed. “I open cans. My stove is the microwave. It’s not impressive, but it’s eatable. Otherwise, takeout is my standard go-to.”
“Okay.” She hopped back up. “Why don’t you work on coffee and I’ll make us an omelet, assuming you have ingredients.”
He pointed toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself. I’m going to throw some clothes on, if you don’t mind. I just wanted to get th
e coffee started first.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
It only took twenty minutes to throw together a hearty breakfast, preparing a veggie omelet for herself and one laden with meat for Ty. His appreciative smile told her she’d chosen well. She topped them both with roasted tomatoes and a dab of Fage yogurt she’d been surprised to discover in his refrigerator. Maybe Joe had left it behind.
Ty provided the coffee, a delicious Costa Rican roast, rich and full-bodied. Once again, they ate in companionable silence. Apparently, neither felt a need to fill the quiet with idle chitchat.
“Does this seem strange to you?” she asked, once replete.
“Us?” At her nod, he took a thoughtful sip of coffee. “Definitely. I wish I understood what the hell happened to spark such an intense reaction. Just chemistry, I guess.”
Should she tell him? Explain? Gabe had once mentioned that their cousin, Gianna, hadn’t fully explained The Inferno to her husband and he’d resented it. He’d felt as though all control had been stolen from him, not realizing that his wife had no control over The Inferno, either. That it wasn’t something she’d done to him. It had happened all on its own, through some mysterious quality or ability of the Dante “curse.” Or as some in the family preferred to consider it, the Dante “blessing.”
“When we first touched, you said you didn’t feel anything.” She moistened her lips. “Were you just saying that?”
Ty’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t lie.”
Lucia froze, something in that black gaze warning she treaded close to a line, one she better not cross. “Got it.” She hesitated, unsure how to broach the subject of The Inferno, but driven to do so. “You prefer honesty, right?”
“I demand it.”
“Do you know the Dantes well?”
“Not at all. I know Juice, their head of security.”
That was a relief. She wouldn’t have to confess her connection to the Dantes. Considering she hadn’t told them about her existence, it seemed unfair to burden Ty with her secret. More importantly, she could explain about The Inferno without Ty figuring out her relationship to the jewelry icons.
“What if I told you that there’s an odd curse—or blessing, depending on how you look at it—that runs through my father’s family.” She spared him a swift look. He regarded her without expression which she suspected did not bode well for this conversation. From her limited experience with him, that usually meant he found the topic suspect. “I assume you don’t believe in curses?”
He inclined his head. “Or blessings.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I do either.” She glanced down at her right hand. “Except . . .”
“You experienced it?”
“Yes. With you.”
He instantly made the connection. “This has to do with when we touched. Those odd questions you asked me.”
She scratched at the itch centered in her right palm. “There’s a reaction that happens when someone in my family touches the person they’re meant to be with.” She hesitated to use the term, “soul mate.” Somehow, she suspected he’d take to that with even less enthusiasm than a blessing or curse. “It’s like a burning or spark.”
“I’m guessing you felt it when we shook hands?”
She nodded. “Usually, the other person feels it, too.”
“I didn’t.”
“I guess not.” She hesitated a brief moment, hoping against hope he’d confess to having felt something, anything, even if not the same thing she’d felt. “You didn’t feel anything?”
He shoved his plate to one side. “Lucia, I’ve already answered that question. When we met, I felt an instant attraction.” He managed a sardonic smile, though she sensed he aimed it at himself rather than her. “That should be obvious considering how things went from there.”
She stared at the dregs of her coffee, as though she could find the answer to her questions hidden there. What did it mean that he hadn’t felt anything? Had her palm misfired? Had she been mistaken? Had she wished it into existence?
He reached over and caught her hand in his, his thumb brushing across her palm. “Does it really matter, Lucia?” She shuddered beneath the stroking caress, The Inferno burning hotter, more fiercely. “Can’t we just build a relationship on us, what’s happening between us?”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“If we don’t marry the person The Inferno chooses for us, the curse kicks in.” The second the words left her mouth, she heard how ludicrous they sounded.
Apparently, Ty concurred. “That’s ridiculous, honey.”
“I know, I know.” She shot to her feet and carried their plates to the sink. Turning, she leaned a hip against the edge and faced him. “When I say the words, even I have trouble believing them. It’s just that every single person in my family has experienced The Inferno. I thought I was the only one who never would. Until . . .”
“Until you met me?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He considered her words for a moment, then shrugged. “Let’s say you did. What does it matter? If you felt it, you felt it. Don’t worry about how I experience things. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. Let’s just go with that.”
Pain ripped through her. They were almost the exact same words Andrew had used to convince her to marry him. I’m sure we felt The Inferno when we first touched. I definitely felt something. Not that it matters. You’re attracted to me. I’m attracted to you. Let’s just go with that.
“I tried something similar with my ex. It ended badly.” Lucia swallowed the acid gathering in her throat. “Very badly.”
“I’m not your ex.”
“But you’re also, apparently, not my Inferno mate.”
A stillness settled over him, a tension gathering, like a huge jungle cat preparing to pounce. “Does that mean we can’t be together?”
If only she hadn’t married Andrew. If only Ty had experienced some hint of The Inferno. And if only she could ask Primo’s advice, explain what happened and find out why the reaction only went one way.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” she confessed.
“I think you just did.”
He rose and gathered up the remaining dishes. She stepped aside to allow him access to the sink. “I guess we could just wait and see what happens.”
The muscles along his back stiffened. “Lucia . . .” With a sigh, he turned to face her. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “You’re not the only one with a past. With a bad past.”
“The scars on your chest and back?” she guessed, daring to mention them.
“On my back, yes. The one on my chest is from a train wreck when I was a child.” She blinked. A train wreck? Before she could follow up on the comment, he continued. “I’m not sure we’re on the same wavelength. I’m a logical, practical guy. I pretty much take the world the way I see it. I don’t believe in curses or blessing or fairy tales. I’ve seen too many horrible things happen to believe in wishful thinking.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t like the direction their conversation had taken. “What are saying?”
“I can’t play whatever game you have in mind.”
“I’m not playing a game,” she insisted.
“Aren’t you? Isn’t The Inferno some form of make-believe game?”
She hesitated, driven to be honest with him. “I don’t know. It isn’t for the others in my family. And once upon a time, I thought it was real. Then I stopped believing until—” She waved a hand in his direction, struggling to keep her voice from breaking. “Until you.”
“And if you decide I’m not your Inferno person? You’ll just end our relationship?”
“No! Yes. I don’t know.”
“Well, I do. I can’t go down that road.”
“Wait.” She stared in hurt disbelief. “Are you ending things?”
“I don’t want to. But I don’t think I can handle whichever turn
your Inferno takes. I have a bad feeling it’s gonna go south and I’ll come out the loser.”
“Please don’t do this, Ty.” She hated the desperate plea racing through her words. “Can’t we just wait and see what happens?”
He crossed to her side and, as though unable to help himself, pulled her into his arms. “I want to. Please believe me. I’d love to see where this might go.”
“I’d like that.”
She could tell before he even replied that he hadn’t changed his mind. “Listen, I think we probably should have taken things slower, though in all honesty, I can’t seem to keep my hands off you. But I’m unwilling to compete with The Inferno.”
She buried her face against his chest. “You don’t have to.”
His breath escaped his lungs in a sigh, stirring the curls on top of her head. “You know that’s not true. As time goes on, you’re going to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You’re going to worry that you’ve chosen the wrong person because I didn’t experience The Inferno like I should have. You’re going to wonder if I’m not a repeat of your ex.”
Oh, God. He wasn’t wrong, though not about Andrew. His words echoed her own concerns. She fought against her tears, not wanting to use such a blatantly feminine weapon against him. “I don’t want our relationship to end.”
“Better it ends now before this goes any further. Let’s just chalk up the past twenty-four hours to a special time together, but not something we should repeat. I’m something of a lone wolf, anyway, sweetheart. I don’t do forever. I don’t believe in it. Better we end it now before anyone gets hurt.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. While part of her agreed with him, couldn’t bring herself to trust in The Inferno or the possibility of soul mates, another part shrieked in warning. Begged her to claim him for all time. Warned that leaving would hurt far more than taking a chance. “Is there anything I can say to change your mind?” she asked.
He lifted her face to his and gave her a brief, tender kiss. “Not unless you decide The Inferno isn’t real.”
