by Stacy Gail
She knew all of this. So it made no sense at all when she heard herself say, “Yes.”
Something fierce and wild unleashed in his eyes, and it took her a second to recognize it.
Triumph.
“I would run the hand I have at your back down to cup your ass to see if it feels as perfect as it looks. I would take my other hand and slide it up your thigh, just to see how far you’d let me go. How far do you think that would be, Sass?”
She couldn’t find the strength to untangle her gaze from his. “Um…”
As she watched, the faint lines around his eyes crinkled. “Between you and me, I’m thinking I could get pretty far. And if you were really in the mood to take a risk, I’d undo the button of your jeans and that teeny little zipper I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of. I’d get everything nice and loose so I could get my fingers inside your pants. And your panties. And then inside you.”
She shivered. The fierce light in his eyes intensified. He’d felt it. And damn it, that was unacceptable.
“You’re freaking me out,” she whispered, and she could only hope he’d think it was because she was alarmed, and not knocked breathless. “We don’t have that kind of relationship.”
“Relationships change, and you know this as well as I do. You know this, because you’re the one who asked me what I would do if we weren’t in public.”
Damn it. He had her there.
“You should know that’s not all I’d do to you,” he went on when she didn’t answer. “Do you want to know what else I’d do, Sass?”
She froze, looking into his eyes. She wanted to know. She burned to know.
But they were at a crossroads. She could feel it with every nerve in her body. Their coexistence, as they knew it, hung in the balance, and she didn’t know which way to go.
Except…
She really wanted to know what he’d do.
A faint shadow of disappointment moved across his expression, and he began to turn his head away. Her hand was up and holding him in place without her telling it to, but that was all right. She’d made her decision.
Insane and sleep-deprived as it was.
“Tell me,” she whispered no more than a breath from his mouth. “Tell me everything.”
The hand at her knee tightened, and that mesmerizing glitter in his eyes came back with a vengeance. “I would keep you here in my lap while I worked you, Sassy. I would work you until your body melted, until you’d help me give you pleasure by riding my hand. I’d work you until you’d be moaning and panting and begging me for more. But I wouldn’t let you have more until you said my name like it meant something to you. Until you’d convinced me that you knew I was the one making you feel that good. Only then would I stroke you so hard and fast you’d come for me in a way that neither of us would ever forget.” As he spoke, the hand at her back began to press her closer, until she was half-lying on his chest. “So the way I see it, holding you as innocently as I am now, when in my head I’m finger-banging you until you’re screaming my name, I think I’m being a pretty fucking amazing gentleman.”
With her lungs shrinking to the size of raisins and her gaze held mercilessly by his, Sass was suddenly aware of three all-important points. One, Rude hadn’t saved her seat for the sole purpose of landing her right where he wanted her. Two, She would never be able to control him the way she’d controlled every other adult relationship she’d ever had. And three, he had the power to make achy, wet heat surge between her legs just by talking to her. That was something she hadn’t even thought was possible.
Oh, and four. The growing hardness against her hip was becoming impossible to ignore.
“I’m in a lot of trouble with you, aren’t I?”
“If by trouble you mean you’re the luckiest woman in Chicago, then yeah. You are.”
If only he couldn’t back that swagger up with rock-solid truth. But he did, so there was no point in arguing. “You causing that kind of trouble for me is part of the reason why I couldn’t sleep last night.”
“Did thinking about me keep you awake?”
He didn’t have to look so smug about it. “The thing is, you’re not playing fair. Before you kissed me, I knew the place you had in my life. So did you.”
“I didn’t have a place in your life.”
“So you understand my point.”
“And you’re missing mine.” He settled more deeply into the chair, causing her to flat-out lounge on him. Her free hand came up to brace against what felt like the world’s most perfect pec, and it took all her strength not to give it an experimental squeeze. “I know exactly what my place was in your life. It was nowhere. I was that guy you avoided at family get-togethers. The man you refused to dance with at Scout’s wedding. The former foster brother you never spoke to or thought about because I wasn’t worth the headache. But that’s not what I want to be, so I’m not going to fucking allow you to keep me nowhere.”
“You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I decided this for me.”
She tried another tactic. “When you kissed me, you changed absolutely everything. The rules, the dynamic between you and me… my whole world.”
She was close enough to hear his intake of breath, and she swore his heart thumped beneath her hand. “Out-fucking-standing.”
“Believe me, it’s not.”
“Your opinion, not mine. And by the way, your opinion sucks.”
Ugh. “Why can’t I communicate my point to you? Should I try interpretive dance?”
His chuckle rumbled in the chest she was sprawled on, and feeling it as well as hearing it was so intimate it nearly distracted her from registering his answer. “I get your point. You’re freaking out that things are changing, but I’m not overly worried about that. If anything, your reaction’s going to ensure that you never forget our first kiss. And that is what makes it outstanding.”
She just stopped herself from face-palming. “You really are a glass-half-full kind of guy, aren’t you?”
“I’ll never forget it either, Sassy Pants.” The hand at her back urged her closer, until they were nose-to-nose, and his breath feathered over her lips like a phantom caress. “In fact, I’d bet real money that I’ll only have a few other kisses in my life that will overshadow our first kiss.”
“You think you’re going to experience a more memorable kiss than mine?” The words were out before she could analyze them, but damn. A girl had to defend her kissing prowess, no matter the situation. It was an unwritten rule.
“Cool your jets.” Laughter danced in his eyes as he ran a hand over her back. “No need to get excited. Only two or three kisses will take its place, I’m sure. Maybe four.”
“Only two or three… or four?”
“The only kisses that would overshadow our first kiss would be the first kiss I share with my bride once I link my life with hers for all time and she promises to do the same with me, and the first kisses I give our babies when they’re born. But that’s it.”
“Oh. Well. Okay then.” That earned her another chuckle, and when he pressed his hand under her ponytail to bring her lips to his, she couldn’t help but think that as of now, their first kiss still ranked number one with him.
It was certainly number one with her.
That, of course, only proved that she was losing her mind.
Chapter Eight
“Bottom line, we’ve got to get the most bang for our buck.” Sunlight beamed down through Crystal Garden’s atrium glass ceiling six stories above them, creating a fabulous shadowy geometric pattern on the concrete floor. Wide circular planters were scattered throughout the botanical garden, and those planters were home to over eighty living palm trees and other exotic greenery. Through the atrium’s glass walls, Navy Pier’s famous Ferris wheel seemed close enough to touch. The air smelled fresh with just a hint of water, and as she walked down a tree-lined path, she noted four circular pools, set to make a perfect square, with each ra
ised pool surrounded by beautiful iron framework. “I know this place is gorgeous, but we have to think of all the angles, Rude. Chic Chicago has a more affordable catering package, and it’s more convenient to get to from a car.”
“So people are going to have to hoof it an extra hundred feet through a well-lit, very secure shopping mall after they have their car valet-parked for them. There are worse things.” Stopping on the other side of a pool, Rude looked up at the glass ceiling, where curtains of white lights were hung every ten feet or so. “I like this place, Sass. I like it one hell of a lot better than Chic Chicago.”
She did too, for one very obvious reason. “It’s more expensive. And there’s a wedding and reception being held here prior to the time we can get it at eight.”
“So?”
“So, what happens if they get off-schedule and you’ve got a hundred guests cooling their heels waiting to get in?”
“Then I shuffle everyone over to the Beer Garden further down the pier and get everyone so shitfaced they forget they’re pissed off. That’s not a valid reason to not pull the trigger on this.”
Sass made a mental note to suggest at the next family meeting that the anniversary party-planning was never again left in the hands of a Panuzzi man. “At the very least, if you do decide to have the party here, please put it in the contract that if they’re late in allowing you inside to set up for the party, they owe you a full refund.”
“Spaghetti at your place is looking better and better.” Again he looked around the cavernous area, his attention falling on some workers setting up an arbor on a riser not too far from them. “I bet they do a lot of weddings here. It’s a great place for it.”
“All the benefits of the outdoors while never getting rained out. It’s the best of both worlds.” Frowning at the brochure she held, she scanned through all the amenities. “It says here that it has leapfrog fountains. What does that—” She broke off in a startled yelp and ducked her head when the four pools surrounding her suddenly came to life, shooting thin jets in high arcs toward each other and in various patterns, with barely a drop lost on the concrete floor.
“I think that answers your question.” Grinning widely, Rude moved in and pulled her, unresisting, into his arms, his chin coming to rest on top of her head. “Remind me never to do an action movie with you. You’d never look cool walking away from an exploding car.”
“I’ve never opened a can of ready-to-bake biscuits without screaming. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he said through a laugh that she could feel was accompanied by what had to be a manly headshake. “How do you handle spiders and bugs?”
“I usually leave the apartment so they can relax and take what they want at their leisure before going on their way. But then I’m afraid they haven’t gone, so I wind up at Scout’s place for an impromptu sleepover.” She reluctantly rested her head against his chest, and told herself that position simply made more sense than holding herself stiffly away like some frigid weirdo. “I guess that’ll change now that she’s married. I’d be smart to invest in a carton of flyswatters and some heavy-duty combat boots made for stomping. Oh, and work on my aim. Everyone knows bugs retaliate if you miss.”
“My God, you’re hilarious.” The arms that held her gave her a squeeze. “I’ll kill your bugs. Just give me a call and I’ll come running with my combat boots and my flyswatters, and I’ll vanquish their little buggy asses before they can even think about retaliating.”
“My hero.” For just a second her arms returned his embrace before she let go, calling herself all sorts of an idiot. She wasn’t a hugger by nature. She’d never had hugs until she hit the Panuzzi household, so she’d never felt right when it came to putting her arms around someone unless it was a prelude for sex. Since that certainly wasn’t about to happen, she stepped back against his arms, ignoring their faint resistance before they let her go. “Which means that Operation Sassy Pants is a complete success. I think it’s pretty obvious we’ve made our peace.”
“That was my goal at first. But like I said, my objectives changed a long time ago, so Operation Sassy Pants is still going strong.”
She eyed him warily. “What are your objectives now?”
“Right now they’re about nailing down this place for the party, and moving on to the next item on your checklist of things that need to get done.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“That’s all the answer you’re going to get from me, so suck it up, Sassy.”
As much as she wanted to pursue the subject, she figured she wasn’t going to get anywhere by questioning him, so she offered up the brochure she held. “The main thing now is to get an approximate headcount—and FYI, it was almost a hundred last year—so that you can pick a catering package. But even before that, you need to pick a theme for your party. That way you can match the food to fit your theme.”
He looked as blank as if she were speaking in another tongue. “The anniversary is the theme. This isn’t the fucking Prom.”
It nearly killed her not to eye-roll. “Will you stop being such a man?”
“I’ve got a dick, Sass, so no. I can’t.”
She tried again. “Looking at it like a Prom is a good way to go. The bigger the party, the easier it is to coordinate all the minute details if it has a theme.”
“Spaghetti night. Your place. Done.”
She sighed. “When I did the floating casino party, I was inspired by Papa Bolo’s love of James Bond. Last year, Scout went with a Spring Flowers theme, since Mama Coco and Papa Bolo got married in the spring. A couple years before that, Frankie went retro and revisited the decade in which they were married, and it became this awesome, pop-culture inspired bonanza-slash-costume party. That’s been my favorite so far, I think. And the year before that, it was Anthony’s turn, and that meant a Godfather theme, because that’s what he always does when it’s his turn to do the party, not to mention it’s his and Papa Bolo’s favorite dude movie. So now you need to come up with something that has to do with your parents. Anything will do.”
“This is impossible.” He scanned the brochure with a scowl, looking as if he hoped to find inspiration there. “My brain works in logistics and mission execution, not fucking party themes.”
“I…” She bit her lip, stunned at her behavior. Usually she guarded her inner thoughts way better than that, but he had a certain lost-puppy air that just got to her. Then he looked to her with such hope that she sighed again and wondered when she’d gotten so soft. “There’s been a running joke between your parents for as long as I’ve known them about a honeymoon. Do you know the joke I mean?”
“They didn’t have a honeymoon,” came the frowning reply. “Pop was working two jobs at the time and Mom was already pregnant with Anthony, much to the dismay of her parents.”
“Exactly, and that’s the joke. ‘Someday, I’m going to take you on that honeymoon I’ve been promising you.’ I heard Papa Bolo say that at least once a day when they fostered me, and Mama Coco would always laugh and say that she’s waited all these years for it to happen, so she could wait a few more just in case he didn’t get around to it. And the place he always wanted to take her—”
“Was Italy,” he finished, starting to smile. “Now that’s a theme. And I could still have my spaghetti night.”
“The possibilities are endless. From setting up a photo booth in a mock-up of a gondola in Venice, to regional wine-tasting, to traditional music and folk dancers… seriously, you could do just about anything, even do a tracing of your family tree back to their places of origin and present it to them as their anniversary gift. Give them the honeymoon they never had.”
“You’re rocking my world in all the right ways, you know that?” His hand caught at her nape to pull her up to meet his kiss, and though it still bewildered her to kiss her former enemy, she found herself responding with gusto. When he raised his head and she was still savoring the lush sweep of his tongue against her
s, she couldn’t even say she was sorry. “I’ve got a question for you.”
If it was a question about whether or not she wanted to find a more private place and make out, she suspected she could be talked into it. “What?”
“If this party was for you, what would you want most at that party?”
She blinked. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But… this party’s for your parents, not me.”
“Yeah, I know, but here’s the thing. I remember my mom bringing home cakes and a present or two for the fosters’ birthdays, but it was never an actual party. And I’m pretty damn sure no other foster home threw parties for you, much less bothered to ask what you’d like to do at one. Am I right?”
She didn’t even want to think of the other homes she’d been in before she got to the Panuzzis, so all she could do was nod. “Parties have always been something that happened for other people, not us strays.”
He grimaced sharply, as if the term left a bad taste in his mouth. “We’re changing that right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m taking advantage of being in charge of this blowout by asking you what you would like. It won’t make up for all the parties that never happened for you, but at least you’ll know that a little bit of this bash is going to happen because someone gave a shit about what you wanted.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, so touched by his thoughtfulness she felt an embarrassing prickle in her eyes. “Uh…I can’t think of a thing.”
“Don’t give me that. Five seconds ago you were overflowing with ideas for Mom and Pop’s party. Tell me what would make you happy, and I’ll make it happen.”
“A dance floor,” she blurted, trying to come up with things so he wouldn’t notice she was one thin hair away from boohooing like an idiot. “And I’d love to set up a hashtag ahead of time and have a live feed of it on a large screen so everyone could enjoy the partygoers’ favorite pictures and videos being posted as they happen. I would love to have the people who mean the most to me close at hand to hang out with, to laugh with. To build memories with. With good food, good music and good friends, I can’t think of anything happier. That’s what I’d want to make it perfect.”
