Ache for You (Slow Burn Book 3)

by J. T. Geissinger

  I lower my lashes, my smile turning coy. “I think the rubbing has already been done, sir. Now give me back my leg. I’m cramping.”

  He doesn’t give me back my leg. Instead he starts to massage my bottom, then my hips, working his thumbs into my muscles and staying buried inside me, smiling and gorgeous as a teenage dream. He whispers, “I could stand here like this forever.”

  He’s going to give me atrial fibrillation if he keeps looking at me like that. His eyes are selling me a fairy tale, and though I know I’m crazy about him and there’s no going back from this, I’m not ready to roll out the red carpet for another white knight just yet.

  Considering the last one turned out to have rusted armor and a lame horse.

  When I push lightly against his chest, Matteo reluctantly withdraws from my body. He kisses me again, with infinite tenderness, then adjusts my skirt before discarding the condom into the tiny wastebasket in the corner. He buttons his shirt and tucks it into his pants. As he zips up and buckles his belt, I put my boobs back inside my dress and smooth my hair. Then I look around the floor for my panties.

  “Allow me.” Matteo snatches them up, then takes one of my ankles and maneuvers it through the leg hole. He does the same with my other foot, then slides my panties over my knees and up my thighs, settling them in place.

  “That was almost professional,” I say, trying to hide how much his soft eyes are affecting me. Take it slow, Kimber. This was beautiful, but be careful. Be smart. One day at a time. Eyes wide open. Plenty of time to fall madly in love with him down the road after you get to know him better.

  “You’re thinking again.”

  When I look up at Matteo, I find him gazing down at me, the smile faded from his face. I’m about to make a wisecrack, but decide to be honest instead. It worked so well the last time.

  “I was thinking that you’re incredible, and this was incredible, and I hope we’ll keep doing this as often as possible, and also that we should take it one day at a time because I need to be smart and not fall in love with you too fast.”

  He looks amused, thank God. I’d hate to have ruined everything.

  “That’s unfortunate, considering I’m already in love with you.”

  Boom! goes my heart. A wheezing sound passes my lips. “Wha . . . wha . . .”

  Matteo kisses me firmly, winding an arm around my waist. Then he tilts my head back, lightly gripping my jaw. “I’m in love with you,” he says, slowly and clearly, staring into my eyes. “I know it’s ridiculous, and I know it’s too soon, and I know I’m in love with you. I didn’t plan on it. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself until I figured out why I haven’t been able to sleep or eat or think straight since I met you. It’s either love or it’s insanity, and I don’t care which because either way it’s irreversible. It’s fatal. No other woman has ever moved me the way you do, and if you decide you don’t want me, it will be the end of me.

  “So whatever happens from now on, you can’t say you didn’t know. You can’t say I didn’t tell you. I’m telling you straight out: I’m in love with you, Kimber DiSanto. Even if the pope does think it’s a sin.”

  I stare at him for a long time, searching his face, dizzy with disbelief. “The pope?” I say weakly.

  “It’s a long story. Are you all right?”

  My laugh is semicrazed. “Oh sure. Of course. Beautiful men tell me every day how much they adore me—”

  “Love you,” Matteo growls. After a moment, he adds, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m trying not to pass out.”

  He kisses me again. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “But what if I pass out?”

  “I’ll make sure you don’t hit your head on anything.”

  I’m finding it really hard to breathe. “Okay, I need to say something now, and I hope you won’t get mad.”

  He waits a beat before saying, “I’ll try not to, but that doesn’t sound good.”

  I swallow, moistening my lips. “Does this have anything to do with Brad?”

  He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

  He doesn’t look angry at the mention of my ex, so I take that as a good sign. “I mean you came in here the other day, saw us hugging, acted weirded out about it, then left.”

  “And?”

  “And we haven’t talked about it since. Which means you have no idea what’s going on between us.”

  He considers it for a moment. “That’s true. I don’t. But I do know that there’s no way in hell you would’ve come anywhere near this dressing room with me if there was any chance you and he were getting back together.”

  “Why not?”

  He answers without having to think about it. “You’re a one-man woman. You’re too good to play that game. Too loyal.”

  A flush of pleasure spreads through my belly. My heart dissolves into a kaleidoscope of butterflies, flitting through my body on gossamer wings. I feel tipsy, as if I’ve spent the afternoon sipping champagne.

  Oh no.

  “You’ve got that funny look again.”

  I make a small groan of desperation. “I’m finding it very, very hard not to fall madly in love with you. Like, now.”

  His eyes blaze with emotion. He says gruffly, “Challenge accepted,” and gives me a kiss so passionate and pure and full of emotion I know without doubt it can never be matched by another man.

  The entire time, a bell of warning rings in a distant corner of my mind. If the debacle with Brad taught me anything, it’s that things that seem too good to be true inevitably are.

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Matteo once told me.

  Was that a joke . . . or his master plan?

  THIRTY-ONE

  MATTEO

  “If you’re going to do this right, Matteo, you have to tell her, and you have to tell her in a way that can’t be misunderstood. Forget about being the strong, silent type. Women need to hear the actual words.”

  I’d given my mother an exasperated look when she’d said that over dinner the other night. A man can’t simply charge in with an “I’m in love with you” out of nowhere. Especially with our history. Her history. These things take finesse. Finesse is practically my middle name.

  Except it turns out it isn’t.

  I charged.

  I couldn’t help myself. Being inside her proved too much for my self-control. Judging by her reaction, I’ve made a huge mistake.

  Let’s hope it’s not a lethal one.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she says weakly. She sends me an unconvincing smile.

  “Then I’ll assume you’re so pale because I’ve just given you the most earth-shattering orgasms of your life. Anything else will crush my ego.”

  “I seriously doubt your ego could even be dented.”

  It’s getting massively dented right now, but I decline to share that. I also decline to share that her bringing up Brad not two minutes after we had sex for the first time is more than a little disturbing.

  She regrets it.

  The thought makes my blood run cold.

  “I should probably get back to work.”

  She’s running away. Trying to avoid my eyes. Fuck.

  “Look at me.”

  She gives me those big green eyes, and for a moment I lose my breath. Everything I’ve ever wanted is there. It’s all right there.

  And I’ve probably screwed the whole thing up by opening my mouth and coming on too hard, too soon.

  My voice thick, I say, “I didn’t plan to declare myself like that. It just came out. I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable. I won’t bring it up again.”

  A small furrow forms between her dark brows. She stares at me in silence for a moment, searching my face. “Don’t be sorry,” she murmurs, sliding her hands up my chest. “It was beautiful.” She stands on her toes and kisses me, a soft, sweet kiss that almost manages to break my heart.

  I can already feel her slipping
through my fingers.

  What a fucking idiot I am.

  A bell jingles over the front door. Someone’s come into the shop.

  “Shit,” whispers Kimber, panicking. “Someone’s here!”

  “Hello?” a man’s voice calls out.

  Son of a bitch. It’s Dominic. I’d recognize that bastard’s voice anywhere.

  When a growl of anger rumbles through my chest, Kimber smacks me on the arm and puts a finger to her lips. I scowl at her, ready to rip open the curtain and stride out, but she pushes me back, shaking her head, her eyes blazing.

  “Hello?” The sound of Dominic’s voice grows fainter. He must have wandered into the back room.

  “Stay here until I get rid of him.”

  “What? You’re joking!” I’m red with anger at being forced to cower in the dressing room like a bad little boy, but she’s already gone, whipping the curtain back in place and calling out in a cheerful voice.

  “I’m here! Hello!”

  I stand there in shock and disbelief as Dominic and Kimber share friendly greetings and start to chat.

  She’s hiding me in the fucking dressing room! She’s ashamed to be seen with me!

  I’ve never been this humiliated in my life.

  “How are you, tesoro? I’ve been so worried about you, living up there with the barracuda.”

  My body stiffens with outrage. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to separate all his limbs from his body. No one calls my mother an ugly savage fish and gets away with it. We have our problems, but I won’t allow her to be disrespected.

  I reach for the curtain, but freeze when I hear Kimber’s voice.

  “You don’t have to worry. Things are okay.”

  “Really?” Dominic sounds dubious.

  Kimber laughs. It’s a nervous laugh, and completely insincere. “Well, one of her dogs destroyed my entire wardrobe, but that’s been the only skirmish so far.”

  “You need to be careful, Kimber. I didn’t want to speak of it earlier. Things were already so upsetting with your father’s passing . . .” His voice drops. “But you can’t trust that woman for a moment. The son, either. They’re a pair of real slick operators, those two. You should get rid of her before she figures out how to get the house.”

  There’s a long silence. I have to fight myself from bursting out of the dressing room, but I need to hear what Kimber’s going to say in response to this outrageous lie.

  Tell him to go to hell. Tell him you don’t believe it for a minute. Stand up for me, if not for her.

  Instead, she says in a strange tone, “Why do you say that?”

  It’s like a dagger plunged straight through my heart.

  Dominic scoffs. “Because I know them! He’s vicious, and she’s money hungry. The only reason she married your father is because she thought he had wealth. The house, the business—that’s what she fell in love with. Not your father. Believe me, I saw how she bled him. And once she found out there wasn’t much money to be had, she started pestering him to sell the business. Of course she had a buyer in mind.”

  Kimber says faintly, “Of course she did.”

  She believes him.

  It hits me with the force of an avalanche. Just as suffocating. Just as cold.

  She believes every word coming out of that bastard’s mouth.

  Hope surges through me when she pushes back, her tone brisk.

  “How do you know about any of that?”

  “Your father told me.”

  He sounds apologetic, the fucker.

  After I tear off all his limbs, I’ll set them on fire.

  When Kimber speaks again, her tone is no longer brisk. It’s confused, edged in desperation. “But . . . in the hospital . . . he told me he loved her. He said he was happy—”

  “Your father was a romantic,” Dominic says softly. “You know that. A romantic who only saw the best in people. He looked at life through rose-colored glasses. He was a lamb, no match for the Moretti lions.”

  Fury pulses through me like acid, corrosive and hot. There’s nothing more I’d like to do than reveal myself and choke the truth out of him, but I’d look like a fool strolling out of my hiding place now. She wouldn’t believe me anyway. He’s her father’s best friend, a man she’s known her entire life, and I’m the untrustworthy ex-stepbrother who forced her to trade kisses for her own designs.

  Who she disliked on first sight.

  Who’s done nothing but irritate her since, orgasms notwithstanding.

  I already know how this story ends. It’s not with a happily ever after.

  THIRTY-TWO

  KIMBER

  I feel sick. I’m going to be sick all over my shoes, the floor, the front of Dominic’s white linen shirt.

  How could I have been so stupid?

  Again?

  “That’s really upsetting to hear,” I tell Dominic, my voice shaking. “I don’t want to believe it.”

  His expression softens. He clucks in sympathy, patting my shoulder. “I know. You have a good heart, like your father. It’s hard to hear such awful things about people. Believe me, tesoro, I hate to have to tell you. But you’re like a daughter to me, and now that your father’s gone, it’s my job to look after you, yes? So. This is what you do.” He turns businesslike, folding his arms over his chest. “First thing, you turn the marchesa out of the house.”

  “No.”

  We’re both surprised by that. I had no idea it would come out so forcefully, and Dominic’s rapid blinking tells me he didn’t, either. I hurry on, talking over the pathetic groaning of my heart.

  “My father specified in his will that she stays in the house until she dies. I have to honor that. It’s what he wanted.”

  Dominic sputters, “But she cannot be trusted!”

  “He loved her,” I say firmly. “He was alone for almost thirty years after my mother died, and for whatever reason, the marchesa made him happy. I won’t throw her out.”

  I can’t believe I’m saying the words, but they feel right. The marchesa might be a snooty unlikeable witch, but she gave me a dress to wear to my father’s funeral, and she gave birth to the god who made me understand what sex was really supposed to feel like, even if he is a lying jerk.

  I know it’s too soon, and I know it’s ridiculous, and I know I’m in love with you.

  I wonder if his mother coached him to say those words. How to say them, with such sincerity shining in his eyes. I wonder how soon he planned on bringing up the sale of the business again.

  I wonder if he was eventually going to ask me to marry him, get everything squared away legally, get all the paperwork out of the way so he and Mumsy-Wumsy could have everything they wanted. My breath catches—returning the sketch pad was such a clever move.

  “The longer she lives there, the better her case to make a claim of ownership on the property.” Dominic is beside himself. He’s not the only one who can’t believe I’m taking the marchesa’s side. “And the more she’ll try to win you over with her wiles!”

  “Trust me, she’s not trying to win me over.”

  “No? She hasn’t given you any gifts? Done anything special for you to make you like her?”

  The dress. And she said Brad should be shot.

  God, please just kill me now.

  I squeeze the bridge of my nose, but it doesn’t help the stabbing pain in my forehead. “Matteo’s rich. He lives in a castle, for God’s sake. Their family owns a castle. They can’t be that hard up for money!”

  Dominic looks at me as if I’m incredibly dim-witted. “Castello di Moretti is owned by the family only in name. The government has a lien on the property. Back taxes, my dear. The upkeep on the place is astronomical.”

  The wind has been knocked out of me. I should sit down before I fall. But first I have to ask one final question before I abandon all hope. “Lorenzo has such a high opinion of her. He seems like such a smart guy, and he’s been with her for so long, how could he not see what she’s really like?”

>   “Isn’t it obvious?” Dominic says gently. “He’s in love with her.”

  Yes, now that you mention it. It’s as obvious as day. I had it pegged right from the beginning. I had everything pegged on the nose.

  “Right,” I whisper as the world crashes down around me.

  I barely make it to the trash can under the register before my lunch comes back up in a Technicolor stream.

  Dominic exclaims in surprise, hurrying over to hover over me like a mother hen. I wave him away as I retch, embarrassed and humiliated, wanting to get rid of him, Clara, and the other ladies as quickly as possible.

  I need to be alone with Matteo. I need to look into his eyes when he comes out of that dressing room. I need to make him tell me the truth to my face.

  “Sit, sit, you’re as pale as a ghost!”

  Gripping my arm, Dominic helps me onto the stool behind the counter. I collapse onto it, gasping and faint, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The peperoncini in the salad I had for lunch tasted much better going down. Now they’re searing my throat and the inside of my nose and making my eyes water.

  Yeah, that’s it. The water in my eyes is from the peppers.

  Dominic hands me his hankie. “Are you sick?”

  Heartsick. Soul sick. Sick of men and their endless supply of bullshit. “I think I ate some bad fish at lunch,” I say dully, though it was a vegetable salad. I can’t have Dominic thinking my projectile vomiting has anything to do with the story he told me. I might have terrible taste in men, but I still have a shred left of my pride.

  God, he’d be so disappointed to know what I was doing before he walked in the door.

  “Let me take you home, Kimber. You should rest.”

  “I’m fine.” I’m desperate to be rid of him. I can feel the burning presence of Matteo behind the dressing room curtain. I have to get Dominic out of the shop before something bad happens. I’m surprised Matteo hasn’t burst out already, but that probably only means he’s buying time to formulate his response.

  “You’re not fine,” he presses. “You vomited. That’s the opposite of fine.”

  I have to spend another five minutes convincing him I’m well enough to be left alone. He doesn’t like the idea of me taking a taxi home, but I reassure him by saying Clara will drive me. After he extracts many promises from me that I’ll call him later, he finally leaves. When I close the shop door behind him, my hands are shaking.