Her parents looked at Rico eagerly.
Rico cleared his throat, looking pained. “Okay, here goes. I tried to impress you with all that romance stuff because I thought that’s what you wanted, but you were right, that isn’t me.”
Samantha hmphed. “I knew it!”
“But this is me,” Rico said. “I really want you in my life. You’re all I can think about. Whether we’re getting along or fighting, you’re always right here.” He tapped his head. “I thought I was having a heart attack because whenever I got near you my heart flip-flopped or squeezed or skipped a beat.” He rubbed his chest. “Even now it’s like a racehorse. It’s love. The doc told me.”
Samantha’s brows shot up. She uncrossed her arms. Was there something wrong with his heart, or was he saying what she thought he was saying? She studied his expression. He looked totally and completely sincere. She felt herself weakening.
“You went to the doctor?” she asked. That must have been an awkward conversation.
“Shhh!” her mother scolded. “Go on, Rico.”
He took a deep breath. “I love your smile, your talent, your goodness…” He paused, and Samantha found she could barely breathe because this felt real—this love he was trying so hard to express. He spread his arms wide. “This is the real me talking to the real you. So take it or leave it, the real me just wants to hang out at a bar with you, drink beer, eat wings, and watch the Knicks.”
“I love the Knicks,” Samantha said softly.
His eyes lit up, full of hope. “Really?”
She nodded as hope surged through her too.
He smiled. “I’ve never done that on a date before. I’m not trying to impress you. I’m letting you see the real me, and I hope you’ll like who that is.”
Samantha and her mother sighed at the same time.
“Don’t leave the guy hanging,” her father said.
Samantha laughed. “I’d love to watch the Knicks with you.”
“I knew it! Mothers know.” Her mother shook her finger. “I told you! Mothers know.”
Samantha rolled her eyes; then she crossed to Rico and took his hand, not even caring she was wearing her old ratty comfortable clothes. If he could be himself, so could she. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twelve
Samantha got into Rico’s truck, smiling to herself. Finally she was getting the real Rico. And she liked what she’d seen so far.
He got in and turned the ignition. “For a minute there I thought I was going on a date with your whole family.”
She laughed. “I’m sorry I made you say all that in front of them.”
He pulled out into the street. “You’re forgiven only because you’re here with me now. Besides, I’m sure you’ll run the gauntlet with my mother. My dad’s no problem. He likes everyone.”
She suddenly got worried. “Do you think she’ll like me?”
He squeezed her hand. “Yeah, she’ll like you. She’ll want to check your permanent record for red flags but…” He looked over and grinned. “Any history of streaking? Please say yes.”
She laughed. “No. I never went skinny dipping either.”
“We can fix that. I’ve got a tub.”
“Tell me it’s not a hot tub. That would be just so—”
“Play-uh,” he sang. “No, it’s not a hot tub. It’s a—” he lowered his voice comically “—love tub for special people named Samantha Dixon.”
“You’re too much.”
“You’ll let me know,” he said in a husky voice that gave her a thrill.
She crossed her legs, and he laughed. “Payback is a bitch,” she told him.
He put a warm hand on her leg. “I can hardly wait.”
When they arrived at Garner’s Sports Bar & Grill, Samantha was starting to feel like she was on a first date without all the nerves. The restaurant was warm and welcoming, decorated with greenery and tiny multicolored Christmas lights strung along the ceiling. Rico seemed to relax the moment they left her parents’ house. He was warm and funny, and if he’d been like this from the beginning, she would’ve fallen head over heels.
As it was, he had her at doctor. She couldn’t believe he went to the doctor for a diagnosis of love. She’d fallen for him too. No man had ever tried so damn hard in so many crazy ways just to be with her.
The wings arrived, and they each took one, hot and spicy and crispy, just like she liked them.
Rico wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So how do you like Garner’s?”
“I love it. Good wings too.”
They watched the Knicks, ate hot wings, drank cold beer, and Samantha had never had a better date.
Rico turned to her after they finished the wings. “You’re a mess.” His thumb wiped at her chin, then her lower lip. “Hell, I’ll just kiss it off.” He leaned over and kissed her, drawing her lower lip into his mouth, sucking it. Heat pooled through her body. She kissed him back, her hands gripping his shirt, and the kiss got hot and heavy fast.
He pulled back. “You want to get out of here?”
She jumped off the bar stool. “Yes.”
They walked out of the bar holding hands. The night air was cold and crisp. Main Street was lit with white lights that arched over the street. More white lights wrapped along the trees that lined both sides of the street.
“It’s so beautiful here at night,” she said.
Rico stopped and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re so beautiful. And that’s not a line.”
“Oh, Rico!” She threw her arms around him.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her around.
She laughed. He set her down but didn’t release her. He just stood there, his arms around her waist, smiling down at her.
“I shouldn’t have complained so much about your romance stuff,” she said. “You meant well.”
“No, you were right. I was borrowing lines and faking my way through. But now it’s from the heart.”
She swooned. Then they were kissing again, right on Main Street, under the twinkling white lights.
He pulled back with a groan. “My place?”
She beamed at him. “Yes.”
They walked hand in hand to his truck. He did the whole open door, shut it gently behind her thing, and she was glad to see that his manners were here to stay. It was so gallant.
His place was a short drive away. Once he unlocked the door to his apartment, she threw herself at him, and he staggered back.
“You don’t waste any time,” he said with a grin.
She tried to climb him like a fire pole. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
“Samantha?”
She kissed her way up his neck. “Hmm?”
His warm, rough hands ran up and down her bare back under her sweatshirt. “I want you so bad but…” He trailed off as she sucked on his earlobe.
“You got me,” she said before kissing him again.
He groaned into her mouth and hauled her against him. But he wasn’t moving to the bedroom or getting naked, and that was a problem.
She pulled away and met his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
He flashed a quick grin. “Nothing, believe me. I’m ready.” They both glanced down at the massive erection bulging through his jeans. “But I wrote you a song, and I really wanted you to hear it before we…make love.”
Make love. Omigod, could he be more sweet? She ran to the sofa and sat down. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
He headed over to his guitar, and she sighed happily. The guitar playing was real, and now she was going to get her very first serenade dedicated to her.
He settled on the sofa next to her and strummed a few notes, tuning it. He was so sexy when he bent over his guitar like that. She waited for his melodic voice to sing to her in Spanish.
Beh-beh-beh. He glanced at her as he started to play. Beh-beh-beh. The beat was fast and loud. She sat up straighter. Rock ’n’ roll. Then he belted out the lyrics:
“Love hit me like heart failure
I thought I was gonna die
Samantha! Samantha!”
She slapped a hand over her mouth, torn between crying and laughing. This wasn’t like any of his other songs. Her eyes welled up. That was exactly what made it so special.
He went on:
“Things were tough
Then they were rough
Samantha! Samantha!
What would I do without a girl like you
Can’t wait to find out what’s in store
Samantha! Samantha!”
Her heart filled with love as he belted out her name, pouring his heart and soul into the song. He finished and turned to her. She bit her lip to keep from crying.
“Did you like it?” he asked.
She nodded and felt a tear slip away. “I loved it.”
“What’s wrong? You’re crying.” He set the guitar down and pulled her into his arms.
She smiled through her tears. “I’m just happy.”
He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, kissed her tenderly, then folded her in a tight embrace. Her whole body relaxed in his warm, strong arms.
He pulled back to look at her, stroking her cheek. “Okay?”
She nodded. “What else did you learn from those romance novels?”
He barked out a laugh. “What are you into? Werewolf style, old-school Scottish, billionaire dominance, low-down country, reformed bad boy—”
She lifted a finger. “I’ll take that last one.”
He grinned. “You’re looking at him.”
“You are not bad.”
“You said I was a player.”
“You were!”
“Not anymore.” He kissed her gently. “Just you, Samantha, only you.”
“Oh, Rico,” she breathed. “Enough talking. Get naked. Now!”
“That’s my line,” he said on a laugh. He lifted her off his lap and stood. “Just remember you wanted bad boy,” he reminded her as he peeled off her sweatshirt.
She threw her arms around him. “I do, I really do.”
And then his hands were everywhere as his mouth pressed hard on hers, demanding entry, and she opened for him. His tongue thrust inside, and she lost herself in his taste, in the rough stubble scraping her as his warm lips devoured her. Her bra sprang open, then it was off, and before she had time to pull his shirt off, her pants hit the floor. His hand thrust between her legs, pressing against her dampness, and she gasped. He ripped the panties off in one quick pull, and her eyes flew open.
She was completely naked, and he was still fully dressed.
“Get those damn clothes off now,” she growled.
“You want this?” he asked, peeling off his shirt.
Her mouth went dry as she took in the full effect of a half-naked Rico. He was like that unicorn. She didn’t know such beautiful muscular men existed in real life. She ran a hand over one warm pec and down his rippling abs. He pulled a condom from his pocket and dropped his pants and briefs. She forgave his obvious plans for their night in light of his obvious, thick, hard desire. She gulped.
“And this?” he asked. She goggled over his colossal erection as it stretched the condom.
“Yes,” she breathed.
Then he grabbed her, turned, and pinned her back against the wall. And there was nothing but him, his musky scent, his skin burning into hers, his mouth pressing into her. He slid his hands under her bottom, lifted her, and then with one hard thrust he was inside, stretching her, making her ache. She panted.
“Wrap your legs around me, baby,” he crooned into her ear.
She did. But then he surprised her by carrying her like that off to the bedroom. “I thought I was getting the wall banging,” she said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.
Rico groaned and tightened his hold on her. “The wall’s too hard for you. I want silk against your skin.”
Then they were in the bedroom, and he shoved the cover aside. He released her to lay her down gently on silk sheets. She ran her hands along the sheets. She’d never known a guy who had silk on his bed. “You have silk sheets?”
He rose up over her, settling between her legs. “I like softness too.”
He kissed her tenderly, then moved along her cheek, nuzzling into her neck.
“This doesn’t feel like bad boy,” she pouted.
He stilled.
Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. But she’d gotten so excited that she was finally going to get the bad-boy experience. Even better, the bad boy with a tender heart, the perfect combination.
He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes, a smile playing over his lips. Then he cradled her face with one hand. “This is what a bad boy feels like when he’s fallen in love.”
Her heart squeezed. She felt that love soul deep. She smiled up at him. “I think I’m falling for you too.”
“You think?”
“I might need a bad boy to sway me.”
He dipped his head and nipped her bottom lip, and her hopes soared—bad boy was back. He pulled back long enough to yank her down, away from the headboard, then grabbed her leg, lifting it and setting it over his shoulder.
“Bad boys like a woman who goes along for the ride,” he told her with a hot look that had her throbbing in anticipation. He lifted her other leg and set it over his shoulder.
“You talk too much,” she said, goading him on.
“I talk too—woman!” He grabbed her hips and drove into her, hard and fast, so she could barely catch her breath. The position forced her wide open, and she threw her head back in surrender as hot waves of pleasure drenched her, making her clutch at his back, her nails scraping, wild for him as the thrusts rubbed against some pleasure spot on the inside that made her crazy. Her moans seemed to drive him on as he pumped harder and faster.
“Touch yourself,” he growled.
She did without hesitation, too far gone for any inhibitions with this man. He watched her, his eyes dilated with desire, as she pleasured herself while he thrust deep and hard inside her. She panted, eyes wide open on her very own sex god, already on the brink.
“Come for me,” he commanded.
At the words, she came violently, the room going out of focus as pleasure crashed over her. And then he was pounding into her for what felt like a never-ending pleasure ride as her insides coiled and tightened again. With a guttural groan, he reached his own climax, and she took in every last shuddering thrust until her body clamped down as she broke in a rush, crying out his name.
They stayed like that for a moment while she shuddered from aftershocks as he throbbed within her. He released her legs and crashed down onto the bed next to her.
He took her hand. “Was I too rough?”
She grinned. “I liked it. Next time I want werewolf style.”
He groaned. She looked over. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re really gonna kill me.”
“The doc said it was just love,” she teased.
He opened his eyes and drilled her with them. “You think that’s funny?”
She bit back a smile. “Maybe a little.”
He grabbed her and hauled her on top of him. She let out a squeal of surprise. He kissed her tenderly. “You won’t be laughing when I’m done with you.”
She smiled cheekily. “I certainly hope not.”
He stroked her hair behind her ear. “I love you so damn hard.”
“I love you too. Kiss me, my romantic hero.”
He did, and it was with real, true love.
Epilogue
Rico brought Samantha to the O’Hare Christmas Eve party, feeling like he’d won the fucking lottery. Samantha was perfect for him. First off, she was a Knicks fan, she liked beer as well as wine, and she liked to shake it up in the bedroom. He smiled to himself thinking of their recent billionaire-into-light-bondage adventure. She was beautiful, smart, artistic, loving, the perfect future mother of his children.
To think they never would’ve found each o
ther if not for their crazy mothers and that matchmaking Maggie. He felt like getting down on his knees and kissing their feet in gratitude.
Maybe not that far. But he did hope to give his mother the wedding and grandkids she’d prayed for. He squeezed Samantha’s hand and gave her a quick kiss before he rang the bell. After this, they’d be heading to her parents’ house.
Trav opened the door, wearing the Santa hat with mistletoe hanging off the pom-pom. “Ah, you’re under the mistletoe,” he told Samantha as he leaned toward her.
Rico’s hand slammed into Trav’s chest. “Don’t even think about it.”
Trav laughed and made kissy noises at Rico. Samantha giggled.
They stepped inside, and the Chihuahua ran by, mistletoe headband in his mouth. Probably going to destroy that offender of his dignity. Rico breathed in the scent of pine and hot chocolate and cinnamon. Maggie came up to them in her Santa hat with two more in hand. Actually everyone was wearing Santa hats. Christmas Eve tradition.
She plopped one on his head and one on Samantha’s. “Merry Christmas, you little lovebirds!” she exclaimed. “I can tell you did the deed, you’re glowing.”
Samantha turned bright red. Rico laughed.
This time instead of the chipmunks, Julio Iglesias crooned Christmas carols—Jorge must have picked the music—as everyone sat around the cozy living room with a cheerful fire. There was eggnog, mulled cider, and hot chocolate with peppermint sticks sticking out of it. All his favorite people were here, his second family—Maggie and Jorge, Trav and Daisy, Ryan and Liz, Shane and Rachel. Trav’s son, Bryce, sat on the floor, banging the hell out of a toy drum.
“Our little drummer boy,” Daisy said with a smile.
Rachel handed Rico a wrapped gift. “Don’t open it until you get home,” she said with a wink. “It’s that one we talked about.”
It was in the shape of a book. He felt himself flush. It was one thing for Samantha to know he read romance novels, but he sure as hell didn’t want that getting around to anyone else.
“Thanks,” he managed. He left to quickly slip it into the inside pocket of his jacket, out of sight.
Kissing Santa, A Clover Park Novella (Clover Park, Book 4) Contemporary Romance (The Clover Park Series) Page 10
