Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

“Cal,” Lee yells from the living room.

  “Coming,” I call out and stand on my tiptoes to give Bruno a kiss before disappearing in the direction of her voice.

  “Wow,” I mutter when I walk into the living room, which is at the back of the house. Wall-to-wall windows give the most spectacular view of the lake. Snow covers the trees and the lake is the darkest blue I’ve ever seen.

  “Yeah, sometimes I forget how beautiful it is here.” Lee pats the couch next to her. “Sit.” I follow orders and sit down, but I keep my eyes glued to the windows. The view of the snow falling, fluttering onto the lake, and then disappearing captivates me. “How was the drive? Do you need a rest?”

  “I slept in the car. You know your brother isn’t the best conversationalist.”

  She laughs and lies back into the couch. “How are you feeling?”

  “Pretty good, actually.”

  “Did you have the scan and blood work done since your last treatment?”

  I give her a halfhearted smile. “Yeah. I went yesterday and did everything. Now, we just wait and see.”

  “No matter what—” she wraps her arm around my back, hugging me awkwardly “—you can face anything.”

  “I wonder,” I mutter, not realizing I say that out loud.

  “You can. I remember how scared I was to get mine done. I worried that the cancer had spread and that the chemo didn’t work. I worried for nothing.”

  “But what if I’m not as lucky as you are?”

  She kicks her feet up on the coffee table, and after I push my shoes off, I do the same. Lee makes me comfortable. “Then you fight again.”

  I look over at her and frown at the thought. “It’s not that easy.”

  “It is. It won’t be easy, but what other choice is there, really?”

  “None,” I admit and hold her hand, wrapping our fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Lee.”

  “I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I?” She covers her mouth with her free hand.

  “You are.” I smile and push back the tears. Bruno has gotten me through so much; he gives me so much strength, but Lee has given me something he never could—hope and self-confidence.

  “Fuck!” Mrs. Bruno yells from the kitchen.

  “I should go check on her.”

  “I’ll come too,” I tell her, climbing to my feet and following her out of the living room.

  Mrs. Bruno is on the floor covered in flour when we walk in, and Lee grabs a towel and joins her. “What happened, Mom?”

  She blows out a breath, creating a cloud. “Your damn father and his Chicken Piccata. The man has to be difficult.”

  “You make the best, though, Mom.” I lie because her cooking is far from it.

  “Aren’t I lucky?” She laughs, reaching for another towel on the counter. “What a mess.” I pull the roll of paper towels off the holder and dip a handful under the water and join them. “Oh, Callie. Don’t get all dirty.”

  “I can’t just watch you girls have all the fun, can I?”

  “Babe, if this shit is fun to you, then I think you need some help,” Mrs. Bruno tells me as she falls back on her butt.

  “What are you guys doing?” Bruno asks as he walks in.

  “We thought we’d do an assload of coke and found this was the best way to do it.” His mom snickers without looking up.

  “Mom…”

  “What the fuck does it look like we’re doing, Rocco?”

  He is right about her. She has no filter. I love her.

  “Coke does sound good, though,” Lee teases and starts to laugh.

  “For the love of—” Bruno mutters and grabs a stack of towels from the drawer next to the sink.

  “It’s your father’s fault. He wants Piccata, and you know how I hate to touch chicken. I get all jumpy around it.”

  “Haven’t you gotten over your fear of chicken? It’s dead. It’s not going to attack you.” He shoos us out of the way and wipes the remnants of the flour from the pristine white-tile floor.

  “Bad acid trip,” she tells me before looking down at him. “I’ll never get over it.”

  “Where’s Gabby?” Lee asks, changing the subject.

  “She’s over at her friend’s house. They’re studying.” She uses quotes and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know why the girl can’t be honest about shit.”

  I lean against the counter, looking back and forth between Bruno and his mother. He scrubs his hand down his face and looks a little more serious than he did before. “Who’s the friend?”

  “Down, boy.” Mrs. Bruno points her finger at him.

  I almost fall over. I bite my lip and keep my mouth shut to hide my laughter.

  “Mom.”

  “Her friend’s name is Trista or something,” Mrs. Bruno tells him, throwing the towel down the basement stairs.

  “You made me think she was at a boy’s house, for shit’s sake.”

  “Make no mistake.” She laughs. “They’re not studying.”

  “Wait.” Bruno stands up, his head tilts, and his eyes narrow. “Are you saying that Gabby and Trista are a thing?”

  “Yep.” His mom’s face tightens. “Quite the scandal in this small-town shithole.”

  “Oh, fuck what people think, Ma. Fuck them all.”

  “I know, sweetie. I just worry about my little girl.”

  Bruno holds his hands up. “Hold up here. So you’re saying Gabby is a…”

  Mrs. Bruno nods. “A lesbian. Yep.”

  A giant smile spreads across his face and his body visibly relaxes. “Thank shit.”

  “Huh?” Lee mutters while staring at her brother.

  “I won’t have to go to jail for killing some little prick for knocking her up. I’m good.” He laughs and drags his hand through his hair. Flour covers his face, and now, streaks of white pepper his hair. He glances down at his hand and realizes what he’s done. “Damn.”

  I squeeze his hand and smile. “It’s a good look on you, B.”

  “Go wash up, Doodlebug.” Mrs. Bruno grins at him, her eyes darting to me.

  My mouth drops open. Doodlebug? I look up at him, and his eyes are wide. He stiffens at my side. “Do not call me that, Mom.”

  She saunters up to him and strokes his cheek. “You’ll always be my doodlebug, Rocco.”

  “Oh my God.” Lee laughs hysterically behind Mrs. Bruno.

  “Doodlebug?” I whisper.

  Mrs. Bruno glances at me and continues to stroke his flour-covered face. “When this one was a little kid, he used to pull down his pants and piss on the driveway. He thought he was Picasso. Hence the nickname.”

  Bruno closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m going to shower.” He squeezes my hand. “Want to join me?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.” I want to hear more about Doodlebug.

  Memories

  When I wake in the morning, I watch him sleep. Last night was the most fun I’d had in…well, ages. After dinner, his parents pulled out old home movies and spent the evening embarrassing Bruno and entertaining me. They opened more than one bottle of champagne, and the more we drank, the funnier things became.

  Gabby had come barreling in after dinner and introduced herself, but she quickly excused herself to her bedroom. I thought I smelled a stench to her like maybe she’d been smoking pot, but I couldn’t be sure and it wasn’t any of my business. Bruno had eyed her warily but didn’t push the case.

  I love Becca to death, but her family would be classified as uptight compared to the Brunos. Hell, I think most of America would be. I can’t wipe the smile off my face as I think about them and watch him sleep.

  I trace the outline of his jaw, my fingers lingering against his skin. The tough, bossy man comes from such a loving family that something doesn’t fit.

  My brain can’t wrap itself around the fact that “Doodlebug” grew up to be “The Butcher.” I wonder if his parents know about him. Know about his current life, his work, his…reputation. They aren’t scared of
him, but everyone else—at least in our area—knows him and quakes in their boots when he walks by.

  Circling around his chest with my fingers, I keep trying to hash it out in my brain. When he sleeps, he looks like a peaceful giant. I’d go as far as a teddy bear, but not one inch of him is soft.

  “Morning,” he whispers without moving.

  Lost in thought, I hadn’t realized he’d woken. “Morning, Doodlebug.” My eyes slide to his, but he doesn’t look amused.

  “Say it again,” he challenges me with a lopsided, lazy grin.

  “Doodlebug,” I whisper again and giggle.

  As if I weigh nothing, his hands grab my waist and he lifts me in the air before setting me down right on his…gulp.

  Bruno and I haven’t been intimate in so long. I’m sure he wants to, but sex has been the last thing on my mind—until now.

  “Now, what was that again?” His hands dig into my hips, almost painfully gripping my bare skin.

  “Doodlebug,” I croak, and I squirm against his hardened length.

  His hands slide to my ass and grip me roughly as he rolls his hips. I gasp and he sits up, quickly covering my mouth with his and capturing a moan before I wake the entire house.

  “Shh,” he whispers against my lips and pulls my body close to his, causing his dick to press into my flesh.

  “We can’t do this.” My fingernails dig into his shoulders. I don’t mean what I say, of course. I want him. It’s been too long, but this is still his parents’ house.

  “Why?” His eyebrows are drawn.

  “Your parents’ house.” I moan as he kisses a path down my neck. “We can’t.” My voice is needy.

  “They can’t hear,” he tells me against my skin. “I want you, Cal. I can’t wait any longer.”

  “I want you too,” I admit before tipping my head back and giving him better access to my breasts.

  He sucks in a breath, dragging his hands down my neck and settling just above my chest. He pushes down, causing my body to arch more and my head to dip closer to his legs with my chest jutted out. “Perfect.” He captures my nipple between his lips and I cry out.

  My hands rest on his shin, keeping me balanced while he worships my chest. I groan and squirm, rubbing myself against his dick. He’s rock hard, solid, and ready. When his hand slides between us, I moan so loudly I have to have woken somebody.

  I freeze and listen for noise, but Bruno doesn’t stop. My body needs this and so do I. Quite possibly he holds the record for the most time spent with a man without sex being involved. I don’t want it to be that way with us. He deserves pleasure and I want it.

  Just as I’m about to ask him to get a condom, as if reading my mind, he grabs one from the nightstand. I didn’t see it earlier, but he must’ve planned the entire thing. I’m not about to question him either.

  He tears it open with his teeth as I scoot down his legs. Within seconds, he has it on and I inch back up, ready to take him. But before I can, he grabs me and flips me on my back. He’s on top of me before I can protest.

  For a brief moment, I think he’ll be gentle. That he’ll slide inside me inch by inch, but I’m wrong. After he rubs his cock through my wetness and I’m panting like a cat in heat, he pushes inside quickly. I gasp and his hand covers my mouth, muffling my cries of pleasure.

  Latching on to his biceps, I push back in rhythm. When he pulls, I push as we fuck each other. Over a month of pent-up emotions come pouring out. The want. The need. The love?

  Wait.

  Do I love Bruno?

  I push the thought from my mind, letting our bodies become one and concentrating only on him. The way he smells, moans my name, and the feel of him in me and on top of me. The heaviness of his body on top of mine makes me feel enveloped and swallowed whole.

  I wrap my legs around him and tip my ass when his hands slide underneath me. His cock hits the perfect spots, causing my orgasm to grow quickly. I didn’t expect it to happen so fast.

  As he pushes back inside, deeper this time, everything in my body tightens. I close my eyes and let the orgasm crash over me. My toes point and I bite down on my lip to stifle the screams of pleasure as he relentlessly pummels my body, chasing his own release. When he collapses on top of me, out of breath and sweaty, I smile against his skin and gasp for air.

  If I could pick a way to die, fucking Bruno would most certainly be the best way to go.

  Breakfast of Champions

  “Did you guys sleep well?” Mrs. Bruno asks when we walk into the kitchen. She’s holding a coffee mug near her lips and trying to hide her devious smile

  “Great.” Bruno looks down at me and squeezes my hand.

  “Yeah, great.” I smile and bounce from foot to foot because I know we weren’t as quiet as I thought.

  “Sounded like it,” she mutters before lifting the mug to her lips.

  “So what are you kids doing today?” Mr. Bruno asks, sitting in his boxers and reading the newspaper.

  “Um,” I mumble and try not to stare at his half-naked father.

  “Shit, Pop. Can’t you wear pants, at least?”

  He sets down the newspaper and glares at Bruno. “Why? Please, my swimsuit shows more.” Mr. Bruno laughs, lifting the paper in front of his face.

  “Thank fuck it’s snowing,” Bruno mutters, his eyes darting to the ceiling.

  “Heard that. Hot tub, baby.” His father chuckles behind the paper and shakes it a little for effect.

  “Christ,” Bruno hisses.

  “It’s okay.” I squeeze his hand and smile. “It’s his house. I’m not bothered by it.”

  Gabby comes skipping into the kitchen. “Good morning, family.” She heads straight to the fridge, ignoring us before she buries her face inside and searches for something.

  “Top shelf,” Mrs. Bruno yells over her shoulder and then looks at us. “She’s into that soy shit.” She makes a face and pretends to gag.

  “Coffee?” Bruno asks me, deciding to ignore everyone in the room.

  I follow him around the kitchen island, trying not to stare at Mr. Bruno anymore. “I’d love a cup.”

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he slides the coffee cups in front of the pot.

  I lean against the counter and face his family. “Don’t be.” I don’t care how quirky and foulmouthed they are; I like them.

  “What do you want to do today?” he asks me, filling our mugs before sliding one in front of me to add my sugar and milk.

  “I don’t care.”

  “Oh no,” Mrs. Bruno chimes in, eavesdropping on our conversation. “It’s Christmas Eve. You know what that means.”

  Bruno hangs his head and sighs. “No, Mom. We’re doing our own thing today. Callie doesn’t—”

  “I’m game for anything.” I laugh and plop two spoonfuls of sugar into my mug. “What’s the plan?” I ask as I stir my cup of heaven.

  “Fuckin’ women,” Bruno mumbles, tapping his spoon on the rim of his mug and feigning annoyance.

  “Well.” She pushes her chair back and stands. “We have a tradition. Today, we cut down our tree and decorate it as a family. Always have and always will, as long as I’m alive.”

  “Sounds like fun,” I say behind my mug. Never in my life have I helped cut down a tree. My parents opted for the fake, plastic trees when I was growing up.

  “What a nightmare.”

  I shoot Bruno a look like I’ve seen Lee give him a time or two to silence him. “Hush.”

  “Then we’ll make dinner, maybe sing Christmas carols, and go down to the church for mass.”

  Bruno crosses one arm over his chest and holds the mug in front of his face. “Um, Mom, I’m not going into town.”

  “Why?” She glares at him with her hands on her hips.

  I lean over so only he can hear me. “Just go. Make her happy,” I tell him and rest my hand on his arm. “I’d give anything to make my mom happy one more time.”

  “Fine, Mom. We’ll spend the day with the family.” His face tig
htens as if he’s in pain. “Even church.”

  I smile and his mom claps her hands. “Yes!” she cheers.

  “Gabby, go get your brother’s ass up. It’s time to get a tree,” she yells while walking toward the sink with her empty coffee cup she grabbed from the table.

  Gabby sets her half-drunk soymilk on the counter and rolls her eyes. “Mom, I’m right here. You don’t have to yell.”

  “Just go get Lucca and zip it.”

  Gabby storms off, taking the steps two at a time. Her heavy footsteps echo in the kitchen. “Lazy ass. Get your ass up. It’s tree time.”

  Lucca’s voice is muffled when he yells at Gabby.

  “Get up or Rocco’s coming to wake your ass up.”

  A loud thud sounds before frantic feet move around the room above us. I look up at Bruno and he smiles widely. “Smart kid.”

  “You’re a bully,” I tell him and purse my lips.

  His jaw ticks, but a smile spreads across his face. “He’s my brother. Someone has to harass him.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “Yeah. It is. He doesn’t seem to be lacking in cockiness, for all the shit I put him through.”

  “True.”

  “Okay, you two,” his mom tells us and grabs the mugs from our hands. “Go get ready. We have a tree to chop down.”

  Bruno gives me a look as I reach for my cup, not ready to relinquish my cup of java. “Okay,” I grumble with a fake smile.

  “It’s your fault,” he whispers when we walk out of the kitchen and stand at the foot of the stairway.

  “My fault?” I ask, placing a hand on my chest.

  “I tried to get us out of it, but you just had to please my mom.”

  “Oh, shut it. We’re cutting down a tree.” I stick my fingers into his chest and narrow my eyes. “And you’re going to like it.”

  He lifts me up, tosses my body over his shoulder, and runs up the steps while I scream bloody murder. He smacks my ass and laughs. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he proclaims when he throws me on the bed and climbs on top of me.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” I tell him and try to push him off, but I fail.

  “You want this,” he whispers and pushes his cock against me.