by J. A. Coffey
He took her hand and escorted her to the center of the spacious room. "You look good in red," he said, admiring her plump breasts. His hands grasped her by the waist and lifted her onto the island. Shay's eyes widened, but she snuggled her pretty ass into the pretty tiles.
"It's cold," she said, setting her hand over the shiny ceramic counter.
"This will warm you up." He handed her a glass of her favorite wine, an Italian cabernet. "Along with everything else I plan to do." He stood there bare-chested in dress slacks, his tan skin and hard body on full display. Dylan knew what his wife liked--he planned to use every bit of that knowledge to his advantage.
"Can't wait," she said. Her low voice had a trace of emotion. She locked eyes with him, sipped deeply on her wine.
He reached behind him. "Hungry?" he asked, holding out a plate with crackers, cheese and fresh strawberries.
Shay inspected the offering. She plucked out a dark ripe berry and bit into it. "Mmm," she moaned.
The first of plenty of moans he planned to draw from her tonight. "Have more," Dylan said, all smooth and suave. He pressed his hands to the counter and his triceps bulged out. His eyes casually inspected his armband tattoo.
She touched his ropey muscles. "I'd rather eat you."
Dylan let out a laugh. He watched his bold wife put another berry to her lips and suck the tip of it. Her eyes closed and her tongue tantalized that lucky piece of fruit. What a mouth. He knew firsthand what it could do.
He shook out two thick white towels and layered them over the countertop. "Get on your stomach," he said. Straightening the towel edges, he reminded himself that tonight was about her, not him.
"All right." The corner of Shay's mouth lifted. She held the towel to her breasts and took another long swig of wine. Setting the glass down, she helped herself to a cracker with cheese and ate it. Her gaze slid back up to his. Chewing slowly, she let the towel fall to her waist.
His heart leaped from his chest. Every part of him did a happy dance. "Is it too hard?" He helped her get on her tummy. Folding her red towel into a fraction of a cover, he smoothed it over her bare ass, conveniently leaving out cheeky folds of flesh for his viewing pleasure. His gaze traced the length of her glowing spine. Candlelight swept her feminine lines, showcasing hourglass curves. He brushed her long hair to the side, clearing a path to her neck and shoulders. "I can pad it some more."
"No. It's fine." She brought her arms up and rested her hands beneath her face. "This feels good," she said, stretching her torso.
"Do your muscles ache?" He drank from his own wineglass. "Because I can fix that."
"Yeah?"
Dylan came around the counter to the front of her head. He crouched to look at her. "Yeah."
He squished coconut oil into the palm of his hand, and went to work on her shoulders. "I can't believe what happened to Nico," he said, pressing, molding slick skin. "He could've been killed." Dylan kneaded down her back using his thumbs to work on her spine, her kidneys. "And it would've been my fault."
"His accident wasn't your fault."
He stroked the small of her back, just above the curve of her sweet ass. "I talked him into working for me."
"Nico knew the job hazards." She lifted her head. "It could have happened to you. Christian. Anyone."
"It should've been me." He thought about his cousin, who was more like another little brother. He drew an "S" on Shay's back with a stream of exotic-scented oil.
"Don't say that."
"It should've been."
"And what about me?"
Dylan's massage technique was practiced, precise. He knew how to work out her kinks. "I thought about that on the way home."
"You did?"
Stroking her legs now, his fingers streaked the backs of her thighs. "It made me realize how selfish I've been."
"Selfish?"
"You're right, Shay. I only care about money."
"I didn't mean to come off so strong last night." She lifted her head again and looked back at him.
"You were just stating the truth."
"Only because I care."
His hands did their best to drive away his wife's bone-deep tension. "I care too." His voice dropped a decibel.
"I know you do."
"Even though I rarely show it?"
"You show it."
"Not really," he said. It was easier to talk to her back than to her face. He didn't do vulnerable and emotional. But right now that's how he felt. "You're the reason I get up every day, Shay. Even if it may not seem that way."
"Wow." Her head was still lifted. "I don't think you've ever said that."
"I also don't tell you that I love you." His hands moved under her towel, spreading coconut oil over her butt cheeks.
"But you do?" She let out a light sniffle.
"More than anything."
He felt her body go taut and rigid, heard another light sniff. "Me too," she said, her voice cracking.
"At least you show it."
"So do you."
"Yeah, right." His thumbs raked over her slim waist, tracing the deep indentation. He knew she was just being diplomatic. Dylan was highly aware of his own shortcomings, especially in the touchy-feely department.
"You may not be the best communicator. That doesn't mean you're not a loving man."
Her words wrapped around his heart and squeezed it. She understood him better than anyone. Who would he be without her? He was supposed to be the strong one, the leader of the family. Call it a guy thing, a Latin thing, a macho thing. Suck it up and be a man. That's what he'd been taught.
Honestly, the best thing about him was Shay. God, he loved her. He could totally drop his guard and be himself, and yet, he couldn't express all that he thought, felt. Why couldn't he be more like those sensitive guys? "I wish it were easier." He refocused his attention, intensified his hand strokes.
"I know it's not your way."
"Still, I want you to know that I'm sorry."
"For?"
"Letting us drift apart."
"I take the blame for that."
"No. I was the stubborn one who wouldn't reason."
"But you were right. We're not ready for a baby."
"Ready or not, I didn't even consider it. I just stuck to the plan, put the business first."
"I guess we learned something."
"Yeah," Dylan said. He reflected on their relationship, his marriage. "I learned that I take a lot for granted."
"Me too," said Shay.
"What happened to us?"
"We got complacent. We fell into a rut."
"Yeah," he agreed. "We're definitely not what we used to be."
She let out a laugh. "Definitely."
"Back then, we lived to play. Now we live to work." He acknowledged his truth. "Well, at least I do."
"I'm no better."
"How would you change things, Shay?" He wondered if she had any regrets. In hindsight, would she marry him again? No question he would marry her.
"I don't know," she said. "I'm already pretty happy."
"I don't want you to be pretty happy. I want you to be very happy."
"I am."
It wasn't natural for him to share his feelings, but damn it, he'd try harder. He would also make it a point to get out more, work less. Dylan needed to inject some fun back into their life, lighten up a bit. Was anything else lacking? He didn't want to shortchange his wife anymore. "How can I make you happier?" The question came straight from his heart.
"You already do."
"You wouldn't have said that last week."
She laughed again. "No. Probably not."
"At least she's honest."
"I'm really trying to be," Shay said. "So that you know, I love being married to you. Our biggest problem is communication. We just need to talk more."
"But then we'd have no reason for Booty Camp, would we?" He made light of the situation. "What fun would that be?"
"You like that, huh?"
; "Whip your man into submission. Was that the plan?"
"Yep," she said.
"So now I'm whipped?"
"Dylan? Whipped?" She laughed harder. "Never!"
"You don't want a whipped man."
"I don't?"
"No. But if you want, I'll let you whip me from time to time."
"I'll whip you." Shay turned on her side and looked up at him. "Amongst other things." She crunched her bottom lip.
His eyes skimmed down her naked breasts, narrow waist, curved hip. "What other things?" Like he didn't already know.
Chapter Nine
Love me tonight and forever.
To a novice, the mansion didn't appear to be in bad shape. Shay paid careful attention as Dylan detailed its fabulousness.
"It was built in 1923, a Mediterranean Revival, one of the three popular designs back then," he said, with a flair of authority. He'd done his homework. But that was Dylan, thorough, scrupulous.
Watching him now, the way information spilled from his lips, she could see her husband did what he loved. "These arches are all original." His head tilted way back. "Did you know that this area was once a pineapple plantation?"
"Really?" She didn't know that.
"The oldest house is from 1895. It's still around, just a few blocks from here." Dylan continued his tour, Shay following right on his heels. "Would've loved to get my hands on that one, but it had already been restored."
"Can't imagine it's more beautiful than this." She found the home's character and graceful opulence totally absorbing. She loved the blend of colors, especially marigold yellow. The home transported her to a different era. She imagined herself in a long poofy dress, with her waist cinched to nineteen inches, her hair in a powdered wig. Pretty awesome. She grinned to herself.
"If you look closely, you'll see the wear and tear of eighty-plus years," Dylan said, snapping her back to this century. "But that's why I'm here, to make this beauty look like the work of art that she is." His eyes gave Shay a smooth once-over.
"I love that painting," she said, pointing with her finger. She stared up at the woman with the long golden hair. "She looks so real, like she's staring right at me."
"Mrs. Barbarito at nineteen."
"Whoa. Is that how she still looks?"
"She's pretty hot for sixty-something," he laughed. "Just like you're gonna be."
"I hope."
"I know."
Shay smiled. She did have the genes. Her mother looked a decade younger than her real age, and that was without any invasive surgery. "Show me bedrooms next." She wanted to explore every bit of the palatial palace.
"Ah, my favorite place," Dylan said. He waggled his brows.
Judging by last night, she would've guessed the kitchen was more up his alley. Thank God the weekend had arrived. Otherwise she might've died. The things they'd done last night. No way could she have dragged herself to work. Her mouth watered just thinking about it. She should've been spent. But her dirty mind already schemed for tonight, the last night of Booty Camp.
The week had had an amazing effect on their relationship. Booty Camp had saved their marriage. Her hunky husband had reverted back to his old self. And they were best friends again. With their souls reconnected, Shay never wanted to feel such pain again. She promised herself she'd work hard for her marriage. When two people were meant to be, they fought with each other, and they fought for each other.
Dylan led her up the lavish circular stairs. "This is the White Rose Room," he said. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"They have names?" She stepped inside an ivory oasis. The room was beautifully appointed with light vintage furnishings and divine antiques. Old-world charm met modern day conveniences, and Shay found herself hugging her body.
"Wait 'til you see the Tropicana."
Her eyes lit up. "Show me that one next."
The house was a museum. Ceilings were swathed in elaborate gold tiles with ornate details that Shay had never seen, and she'd seen some impressive things in her time. Dylan rattled off his to-do list, pinpointing what needed restoration. With the Barbaritos out of town, Dylan had full access to the place, permission to come and go as needed.
She followed her husband outside to a dazzling garden. Omigod. Her eyes bugged from their sockets. She strolled at a snail's pace, her gaze darting over the sprawling aqua swimming pool nestled amidst tropical foliage. Cobblestone courtyards cut pathways down colorful blooms and manicured lawns. Water dripped from an elegant fountain, filling the backyard with a placid, almost meditating calm.
They came upon a pretty stone bench and she took a seat. She bent her neck back to admire her splendid surroundings. "What a great place to work."
"Ain't it?" Dylan sat beside her. "See those verandas?" His finger pointed upward. "We're redoing that whole area as well."
She measured the height from the terrace to the ground. Two stories in this house seemed much higher. "Be careful you don't end up like Nico." Shuddering at the thought, she brushed his hand.
"No worries. I'm not an adrenaline junkie anymore."
"Good," she said. The tip of her shoe toyed with some white decorative garden rocks. "Nico looked a lot better today, right?"
"He sure did."
"Nothing gets that guy down." She leaned forward and propped her elbows on her thighs. Resting her chin in her palms, she inhaled the rosy aroma emanating all around. "He carried on like nothing hurt." Shay laughed. "I don't know about your family."
"I'm sure the hospital was glad to be rid of him."
"Not that cute curly-haired nurse. I think she wanted him to stay a while longer."
Dylan popped a breath mint into his mouth. He offered one to Shay. "No cast ever stopped a LaCosta."
True. The LaCosta men were extraordinary. Not to mention hot. One more click on the handsome dial, and they'd swing it all the way back to ugly again! "How long will Nico be out of commission?"
"Several weeks. That arm is pretty busted up."
"Let's see how long he can stay away."
"Knowing my cuz, he'll be around here sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. The boy has ADD."
"Another LaCosta trait."
Dylan pressed his hand to her back. He traced his finger down her spine, streaming electrical currents over her skin. "Whenever you're around, I can't sit still either." His hand dipped into the space at her lower back where her jeans gaped.
"Why?"
He snagged her eyes. "Because you make me so hot."
Shay swallowed the lump in her throat. She knew the feeling. "Why?" She straightened and inched closer to her man.
"Because I can't get enough of that sweet booty."
"You want more tonight?"
"Tonight. Tomorrow night. Every night."
"Yeah?"
"And right now. Right here." The heated look he gave her could've boiled the water in the swimming pool.
Her eyes narrowed. Interesting thought, but then she snapped back to reality. Shay looked around suspiciously. "Bet they have hidden cameras everywhere."
He laughed. "Yeah. We might give the Barbaritos a stroke."
"You think?"
*****
Think? Dylan couldn't think. Not when he wanted to take Shay in his arms and stop time, because right now nothing could top what he felt. Love. Love for his wife. Love for his life. Love for this house, which he couldn't wait to get his hands on.
With his marriage back on track, he could be again, his world once again Technicolor. His soul was happy, his brain sharp, his body relaxed from so many orgasms. Sitting on the bench, he crossed his foot over one knee and studied the imposing compound. "Would you like to live in a place like this?"
Twisting her diamond eternity wedding band around and around, Shay stared up at the columns and verandas. "It's beautiful." She slid the ring up and down her finger. "But I don't think I'd want to live here."
The brilliant stones on her ring glittered like twinkling stars. A simple piece of jewelry, yet so significan
t. "Why not?" Dylan asked. He marveled at what the ring symbolized. She belonged to him.
"For one, it's too big."
"A house can never be too big."
"Neither can a diamond, but I prefer something more subtle." She took his hand and inspected his wedding band. "Why? You'd want to live here?"
"I don't know. It might be pretty cool." When he braided his fingers with hers, their rings touched. His eyebrows knitted and he went into thought. Kinky thought. Dylan's brain flooded with raw naked images. Again. "Lots of rooms to do it in."
"True."
"There's enough room for at least ten kids."
Shay slapped his thigh. "Two will do."
Clasping hands, his demeanor turned serious. Time to broach the baby subject, negotiate new terms. He wasn't afraid to take the leap if that's what Shay wanted. As long as they were together, as long as she loved him, he wanted to fulfill all of her dreams. "Let's talk about baby number one."
Her happy grin evaporated. "Let's talk about it."
"Tell me what you're thinking. Do you want a baby now?"
"I thought I did."
"But?"
"Now I'm not so sure."
"Because of me?"
"Because of me."
"Really?"
Shay slipped her hand from his. She stood and paced the grounds. "I don't think I'm ready to leave the bank."
"Why do you have to quit?"
"I don't want somebody else to raise our kids."
"Neither do I, but you shouldn't have to give up your career." He knew how important it was for Shay to have her own identity, to make a contribution in some way. That's how she separated herself from the Giordanos. She didn't work because she needed money. She worked because she wanted to feel normal.
"I'd want to. At least for a little while."
He stared at her backside molded perfectly in form-fitting jeans. She looked like a kid herself in that slim t-shirt and pink sneakers. "You think you'd be happy?"
"Yes." She turned and locked eyes with him. "But only after I finish what I started at the bank. Erin and I promised big things. I'd like to deliver, make good on my word."
He wouldn't have expected less from her. It was one of the qualities he admired. "What kind of time frame are we looking at?"
