by Sam Mariano
As soon as she’s gone, Griff glances over at me, keeping his voice low, like he’s still worried she might hear. “Did you stop and pick up the bracelet?”
“Of course I did. I put it in your trunk along with the flowers. When we go downstairs, I’ll keep her busy and you can run out and grab them.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, he says, “Great, thank you.”
“She wouldn’t have minded waiting until tomorrow,” I point out.
He shakes his head. “Years of conditioning. Ashley would’ve ripped my head off.”
“Fuck Ashley,” I mutter.
“We don’t have to talk about Ashley,” he says, a little more firmly. Then he glances my way again and steps on more neutral ground. “What’d you get her?”
“Diamond necklace, a box of biscotti dipped in Belgian chocolate, and chocolate covered strawberries for dessert tonight.”
Smirking faintly, Griff says, “Or maybe for dinner. The steaks are probably cold now.”
I shrug. “We’ve eaten worse than warmed up steak in our time.”
“That’s true,” he allows.
“Overall, a better Valentine’s Day than your last one?”
“Much better.” Griff nods his head, looking like he’s lost in a memory, but he doesn’t offer any insight into what it might be. He used to talk to me about Ashley, but even though it’s been nearly a year, he still hates bringing her up to me now. It bothered me a little at first, but it doesn’t anymore. Regardless of how he feels about the situation, it doesn’t get in our way, so I don’t lose any sleep over it.
Since we’ve got some time to kill while we wait for Moira, we relax here, bullshitting and talking business. Then Griff tells me he wants to do something special for Moira since our first official anniversary is coming up. I tell him he’s more than welcome to if he wants to plan it himself—I already have a wedding anniversary to keep track of; I don’t need a second one.
Moira finally shoots me a text that we can come back downstairs. While Griff gets dressed in the bathroom, I pull my clothes on out here. I leave the tie off and my top few buttons undone since Moira isn’t here to fiddle with it.
I stop outside the bathroom door and rap on it lightly with my knuckles. “I’m gonna go downstairs now. You can grab the stuff out of your car and meet us in the kitchen afterward.”
“That works. Thanks again for picking it up for me.”
“No problem.”
When I get down to the kitchen, I get a lovely view—not the romantic décor she lovingly exploded all over the room, but my wife’s ass bent over as she reaches into the oven and pulls out a pan that smells like brownies. She’s not wearing the cream-colored blouse and red skirt she left the bedroom in, but a see-through lace contraption with a matching pink thong, and two tiny triangles of fabric over her breasts, tied together by little more than a string. Fuck, she is beautiful. I wait until she puts the pan of brownies down on the stovetop, then I come up behind her and encircle her waist with my arms.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous.”
Moira leans back into me, securing her hands on my forearms. “Thank you, honey. Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too. I should probably warn you; I got you a super sappy card.”
“How sappy are we talking?”
“Wear gloves when you open it, otherwise you’re gonna get pretty sticky.”
I smile, nuzzling my face into the curve of her neck and leaving a few kisses. “If I’m gonna get sticky opening something, I’d much rather it be my present.” Her head falls back against my shoulder as I drop one of my hands from around her waist and reach down to rub her between the legs.
A bit dazedly, she murmurs, “It’s nice of you to keep accepting the same present year after year. You already own the damn thing, you know.”
“I do know. It’s the only present I ever want,” I assure her, my lips moving to her jaw. “Besides, I like all the different ways you wrap it up.”
Her lips tug up in a smile, but she keeps her eyes closed. “For the entire 65 seconds you let me keep it on.”
“How’s Griff enjoying his present?”
She sighs again, moving against me as I slide a finger inside her. “He enjoyed it quite a lot. You were right. He loved being the one I called to come rescue me.”
Satisfied, I nod. “Good.”
“Did you bring the car back home?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t want him to get suspicious. I’ll pick it up tomorrow after it’s ‘fixed.’”
Biting her bottom lip and moaning low in her throat, Moira brings her arm up to wind around my neck and draw me closer. She sighs with pleasure. “I love you, Sebastian.”
Moira already knows exactly how much she means to me, but I’ll never tire of telling her. Never tire of showing her. Right before I make her come, I kiss the shell of her ear and murmur, “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
The Morelli Family
BONUS DELETED SCENE
A/N: There already exists a deleted scenes collection for the Morelli family series (Entrapment, if you missed it), but there is one scene I decided not to include, and that scene has since been requested many times by many readers. So, I decided to write it. I know not everyone wants it, and that’s fine. This scene is optional. I priced this ebook based only on the two short stories; I threw this one in for free. If you don’t want to read it, skip straight ahead to the sweet treat, A Perfect Valentine’s Day!
I’ve positioned it before the Valentine’s Day story since this scene happens long before that one, and also because A Perfect Valentine’s Day is the place I would like to leave you in at the end of this treat bundle, not this one. If you’re going to read both, make sure you read this one first.
This deleted scene takes place during Last Words, at the end of part one after Rafe and Mateo’s scene in the study. Consequently, this takes place many months before Rafe comes back for Easter and meets Laurel.
If you feel you need to skip this scene to protect any of your warm and fuzzies for certain characters/pairings, no problem—just don’t read it and disregard its existence. :)
Obviously parts two and three of Last Words happened after part one, so you already know how it all ended up and that this did no damage. That this happened was referenced in part three a few times, but I think it may have escaped the notice of some readers. I know Mateo can be a touch too kinky for some of you, and that’s totally fine—you don’t have to read this if you know you won’t enjoy it. Mia and Mateo love, want and need only one another, so this is not required reading to appreciate their story.
The title of this sexy scene is Mateo/Mia/Rafe and it is exactly what it sounds like.
For everyone who has been asking for this scene, enjoy! :)
If that sounds like nothing you want to read, feel free to skip to the completely safe Valentine’s Day short story, and wait for Rafe’s book to see what he’s like during sexy time. ;) Given the uniqueness of this situation, this may not be the best indicator anyway.
Mateo/Mia/Rafe
Mia
I lie in bed trying like hell to sleep, but it’s impossible. The tension won’t leave my body. Replaying over and over in my mind is the visual of my husband—my incredible, untouchable husband—being marched across the room, his lip bloody, his arms held tightly behind his back. Alec’s accusations traipse across my mind, leaving a trail of inky dread behind them. Dante’s resentful words lance me.
Mateo is my heart and soul, and I put him in danger. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t real. It doesn’t matter if he was only performing for me.
It could have been real.
I bought so completely into Mateo’s legend, his presence, his reputation, it just never occurred to me that by trying to help others, I could hurt him. Not really. Not until tonight.
Tonight I felt it. Tonight I felt a lot of things.
And right now what I feel is overwhelming anxiety that my husband hasn’t come back to bed yet. I tell myself he�
�s safe because there’s no reason he wouldn’t be—tonight was a production. Only a production.
Their words were real, though, and they are still running through my head. No matter how imaginary the events may have been, it was real to me as it was happening. The consequences felt real.
Another thing is, Rafe is still here, and I still don’t completely trust him. I don’t completely trust Dante, either. I trust Adrian with my life on a daily basis, but even he lied to me. If he was in the closet tonight to make sure things didn’t go sideways, he did know what was going on. When I told him how worried Rafe was making me, he told me he didn’t think Rafe’s behavior toward me had anything to do with why he was in town, and that was bullshit.
Right now, in the aftermath of what just happened tonight, I don’t feel like it’s worth trusting anyone. I just want to curl up with Mateo and stay in our little bubble forever.
Thank god, my husband saved me from reality again tonight.
Now I need him to save me from my memories of tonight. When I was wrapped up in him, when our bodies were one and his strong arms held me, both of us safe and sound, it was over. The feelings lingered, but they were just an uncomfortable memory, not a real threat. He let me get lost in him, but now that he has been gone for so long, my worries are coming back.
I’ll say one thing about my husband—he doesn’t half-ass teaching a lesson. That man goes big and makes it stick.
After a few more anxious minutes, the door opens and a faint sigh of relief escapes me. He’s back. Now he’ll strip his clothes off, climb into our bed, pull me close, and absorb all my fear. He’ll comfort me with his presence and banish every last shred of doubt. Mateo will be just fine—as long as I keep my ass out of his way.
I’ll stay out of his way.
Peace and contentment flow through me as I hear him shut the door, as I hear the soft sounds of his shoes against the bedroom floor. Then I frown faintly. That sounds like more movement than I expected.
Fear slices through me, reminding me of earlier when Dante darkened our doorway. My heart pounds and I turn over, my gaze seeking out the shape of my husband.
I find him, but before I can feel too relieved, I see a second body. My eyes widen, my heart falls clear through my stomach, and I start to sit up. Remembering I’m naked, I wrap the soft white sheet around my body more carefully.
Mateo approaches my side of the bed, but his carriage is calm. There’s no urgency, no hardness outside of the layer of exterior he always has up when other people are around.
“You awake?” His deep voice pours over me like honey and I smile up at him. His big hand comes toward my face and he runs his knuckles across my cheek, watching me with a tender glow in his dark eyes. God, I love this man.
I nod my head. “I was waiting for you to come back to bed.”
“Here I am,” he offers.
“Yes…. But I thought you’d be coming back alone. I’m kinda naked under here.”
Amusement flickers in his dark gaze. “I remember.”
“So, are you coming to bed soon?”
He drags his fingers across my jaw a little more deliberately. “Mm hmm.”
A soft hint of discomfort tugs at me. “Why is he here?”
The other figure in the room has been lurking at the foot of the bed while we talked, like a shadow that wouldn’t come to life until acknowledged. Now, Rafe Morelli takes several slow steps forward, his hooded gaze on me. It should be on my face—only my face—but like my husband, Rafe doesn’t excel at respecting boundaries. Instead, his dark gaze traces the curve of my bare shoulder, the wrinkled line of the sheet I’m holding across my breasts like my life depends upon it. I don’t like the way he’s looking at me—like I’m not a married woman, like my husband isn’t standing right here, like he’s going to get a peek beneath this sheet, and he’s damn sure of it.
My stomach flutters with nerves and my gaze flashes back to Mateo. He hasn’t answered me, so I reword and ask, “Mateo, what’s going on?”
“I need you to do something for me, sweetheart.”
My heart beats faster in anticipation. I know that tone—deliberately calm, oozing authority. He’s going to issue a command I’m not going to want to follow, and he’s priming me to do it anyway. “What do you need me to do?” I ask, tentatively.
“You’re going to help me pay a debt,” Mateo states, his finger dropping from my face. He trails it lightly across my collar bone, prodding lightly at the sheet I’m still clutching close.
“A debt?” I ask, cautiously.
Now he hooks his finger on the inside of the sheet and tugs. I push my hand more firmly against my chest, but he has only to cock an eyebrow at me and my heart pounds, my grip easing. He drags the sheet away from my breasts and I take a shuddering breath. I’m tempted to look at Rafe, but I keep my gaze locked on my husband’s. What the hell is he doing?
“Mm, very nice,” Rafe murmurs, in approval.
“Aren’t they?” Mateo remarks, casually.
I try to go along with whatever the hell Mateo wants from me, but I can’t. I bring my hands up to cover my breasts, shooting a dirty look at Rafe, then at Mateo. “What the hell are you two doing?”
“Playing,” Rafe offers, taking a seat on the edge of my bed.
I scoot back, putting more distance between us. “I’m not your toy.”
Now a slow grin splits his face, somewhat predatory—but not the way he has been this past couple weeks, more like the way he was that first day I met him in Vegas. “Don’t I know it, little one. Mateo found you first; otherwise I think we both know you would be.”
I squirm, shaking my head stubbornly. “I don’t know that.”
“If you’re going to lie, at least do it to someone who might believe you,” Rafe advises.
“Your fibs are wasted on us, sweetheart.”
I shoot my husband a dirty look. “You… What the hell, Mateo?”
“You two have some tension to work out,” Mateo informs me. “Rafe got to play with you once and I didn’t even get to watch.”
Shame floods me and I have to look away. I can’t believe he would bring that up at all, but in front of Rafe?
“There it is,” Rafe says, like he’s just found Waldo.
“Like I said,” Mateo responds.
I don’t like the feeling of them talking about me right in front of me. “I don’t want Rafe in our bedroom. Please make him leave.”
“No,” Mateo says, simply.
My gaze jumps to him and my eyes widen. “No?”
He nods. “No.”
“But…”
Mateo watches me for a moment, then says, “Rafe, give me a minute with my wife.”
Relief pours through me. I only need a minute alone with him to talk him out of whatever stupid idea he has. When Rafe is around, I can’t talk to Mateo as freely. As soon as the door clicks shut and Rafe is safely on the other side of it, I crawl forward, grabbing onto my handsome husband and drawing him close. Clearly he’s lost his mind and he requires help finding it.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning my naked body against him. One of his hands moves to the small of my back and he gazes down at me, waiting to hear my objections. “This is insane. Rafe shouldn’t be here. This is our bedroom. He shouldn’t be in our space.”
With a look more knowing that I’m comfortable with, Mateo caresses my jaw with his free hand and tells me, “He’s already in it.”
I get the feeling he doesn’t mean because he invited him. Guilt multiplies inside me and a lump forms in my throat. “You said you forgave me. You’ve said it a million times.”
“I’m not the problem, Mia,” he says, gently. “I’m over it. You’re not. Even my ordering you on multiple occasions hasn’t worked to completely free you from the guilt. It comes back when he does. That’s not getting over it. Time to try something else.”
“Not this,” I say desperately, shaking my head. “I’ll do better. I’ll let it go. I promise. I don’
t want anyone else, Mateo. I only want you—forever. I don’t want Rafe, and I don’t see how anything that could possibly come from Rafe being in our bedroom when I’m naked could make me feel less guilty.”
“Because I’m in control of this,” he says, simply. “This is my call. You’re doing what I tell you to do, not acting of your own volition. This time, you get no say.”
I sit back on my heels, looking up at him curiously. This is not the first time he’s pulled rank and taken my consent out of the equation, but it is the craziest. “I get no say,” I repeat.
Holding my gaze, he nods his head once. “You’re doing this because I want you to. I want to watch you with him. I want both of us to play with you. Just for tonight. Then you can see that I mean it when I say it doesn’t bother me.”
I bite down on my bottom lip, still skeptical. I’m starting to see the logic in what he says—it takes the responsibility off my shoulders when Mateo makes me do things. He can’t really make me do anything I don’t want to do, because I want to do whatever pleases him. I get pleasure by giving it to him. If he’s doing it for me, I don’t want to do it, but he’s telling me it’s what he wants. If I could fully believe that, I could get on board, but there’s a part of my brain that doesn’t believe him.
Maybe the part that’s been there.
God, I don’t want to bring that up.
“You’re talking about another threesome,” I say.
Since he also knows we don’t talk about that, his dark eyebrows rise slightly in surprise that I’m bringing it up. He recovers quickly, because he’s Mateo, but then he nods. “Yes—this one should be more your speed, don’t you think?”
How can he joke at a time like this? “I don’t want to have a threesome with Rafe,” I inform him. “Just like I didn’t want to have a threesome with Meg.”
