Ready for You (A San Francisco Brides Book)

by Juliano, Celia

  “Mmm, sweet and almondy. My little biscotti.” He winked. “Ready for a dunking?”

  “In your Italian roast? Hell yes.” Her voice rasped and her ripples began again, stronger.

  He kissed her and teased her nipples with his marvelous hands. A tiny voice of guilt whispered to her that she wasn’t doing anything for him, but she smacked it away. He wanted to take care of her and every inch of her needed him to. His strong body surrounded her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled him closer. His scent made her lightheaded. He laced his fingers through her hair and gazed into her eyes. Opening herself to him, she tilted to meet him. His thick, hard length entered her, he took her. Their unbroken gaze spoke his need, her fulfillment. Moving together, they slowly rocked and thrust. The waves crested and crashed again until she spun under. She gripped his arms to steady herself but this only intensified her plunge.

  “Fuck hard,” she breathed out. He did, so hard her body slid in tiny jolts along the sheets, up and down with his movements. His face blurred but she knew his eyes never left her face, as the light of pleasure never left his. “Rocco,” she moaned.

  He pressed his body into hers. “Never leave me,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Never,” she cried out. Her body moved on its own, the leaping, ecstatic participant in a celebratory huddle after winning the championship. Rocco slid for home plate. Safe. Their hot breaths blew on each other’s necks as they came down from the high. She licked him, wanting to taste every part of him.

  “My dirty girl,” he said. He kissed her again before he rolled slowly onto his back. She missed him but she couldn’t move. A snap followed by a rustle of plastic caused her to glance over. Even erectionless, his fine Italian instrument stretched long and splendid. She turned on her side and fondled him. Leaning back, he beamed at her.

  “Ready for another game?” he said.

  “World Series, let’s go for seven,” she said as she moved closer. He gave his shoulder a tweak. She kissed it. “I forgot. Let me make it up to you?”

  “I wasn’t feeling that, believe me,” he said.

  “What were you feeling?”

  “You, us,” he said in a serious reply to her tease.

  She snuggled her head on his chest and listened to his heart, his breath. “Next time--”

  “Shit,” he said. “I only had the one condom. Can we, I mean, I think we can trust each other, right?”

  “Yes, but I’m not on the pill,” she said.

  “Oh. I’ve got to pick up Sabrina and Maddy later. I can stop on the way and get some.”

  “Should I come with you?”

  “Up to you. We’d have to tell her something.”

  “Better not. I want this night to be just us,” she said.

  Other thoughts crept in. She shoved them back and shut the door on them. He made it easy when he kissed her. Wrapping herself around him, she returned the favor. Every sense heightened, his touch, even the slightest brush of his fingertip over her cheek, renewed her, rekindled the flames. His phone rang. Moving off him, she lay back and he stretched over her to answer.

  “Hi, sweetheart,” he said into the phone. “Good. Okay. No, I’ll meet you outside the theatre. Love you too.” He put the phone back but stayed on top of her.

  “You’re a good dad,” she said, placing a hand on his cheek. He took her hand and studied her, his grin gone.

  “Thanks. I better get ready if I’m going to stop somewhere and then find a parking spot in time. Promise you’ll stay?”

  “I promise. I’ll miss you,” she whispered.

  He kissed her again. “I’ll make it worth your wait,” he said with a wink.

  She watched him as he rose and went into the bathroom. Stretching, she smiled. This much happiness couldn’t be possible. Her stomach began to ache like when she ate too many chocolate caramels. It must be late. She glanced at the clock, nine-thirty-four. Rising, she found her purse. Three missed calls on her phone, all Phil. She didn’t want to talk to him. She’d call Kitty to check on the boys once Rocco left. What she had with him and her real life had to stay apart.

  Coming up behind her, he kissed her neck, gently lifting her hair. Only the weight of her phone in her hand kept her from bending over and demanding immediate release from the pulsating warmth he aroused in her. She stepped forward then faced him.

  “You don’t want to be late,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. His resigned tone matched hers. He dressed, not looking at her. She went into the bathroom. When she came out, he was dressed. “You want to go?” he said, his brows pushed together.

  “No, just getting dressed. Feels weird to call Kitty naked.” She picked up her dress.

  “Who’s Kitty?”

  “Phil’s mother.”

  He made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll be back in about an hour. Sure you won’t come along?”

  “Yeah, I need to call and check on the boys. Drive carefully,” she said.

  “Nothing will keep me from you again,” he said. He kissed her so hard and fierce she began undressing him. “Mmm,” he groaned as he stepped away. “Gotta go. Save that feeling.”

  “I will.”

  His hand on the door, he glanced back. “I…” He opened the door. “See you soon.”

  She nodded. The door thumped shut. Slowly, she refastened her dress and took her purse into the bathroom to brush her hair and freshen up. She stared in the mirror. What was she going to do? If Phil found out…but she could maybe go home with Rocco and the girls anyway. She could say she’d spent the night with the girls because she couldn’t stay with Phil anymore. Sabrina seemed like she might be supportive. But once they got home…maybe she could move in with her parents or Isabella until she could afford something. She and Rocco would have to be careful. Frowning, she went to the sofa and sat down.

  She held her phone in front of her. What would she tell Kitty? Chiara wasn’t ready for that battle to begin. The clock glared its numbers, almost ten. She sighed then jumped up at a knock on the door. Had he forgotten something? She ran over and peeked out the peephole. She braced herself. Phil stood outside. Calm down, he can’t know anything. But then how did he know where she was? She opened the door and stepped out a bit, holding the door ajar, but not enough to let him see the room.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Your phone.” He seemed his usual calm self now. He’d changed his clothes and his hair was newly combed. But his eyes were different, wary and warning.

  “You have tracking on my phone?” She clenched her teeth, knowing she had to control her anger.

  “Yes. You didn’t answer. My mom called over half an hour ago. When she told Max he couldn’t talk to you, he got hysterical. I just talked to her. He’s still crying, hiding in the closet.” Phil’s eyes bored into her, accusatory. “I’d go by myself, but you know that might not be enough.”

  “I’ll call and then he’ll be okay,” she said. The freezing walls jutted up again, popping her last warm bubble of happiness.

  “Mom said we should just come up. We were going to tomorrow anyway. She says then she and Dad can take Danny out while we stay with Max in the morning. He’ll probably be tired.”

  “I told my friends I’d be here.” She shivered.

  “What friends?”

  “Sabrina Buffone and her friend, we met on the beach earlier.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They went to get a snack. They’ll be back soon.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can call them. We should go. I already packed all our bags, everything’s ready.” He motioned to the car, parked in Rocco’s spot. She was going to throw up. But the feeling just lingered like a nasty hangover as she clutched her purse and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “’Night girls,” Rocco said with a wave as he watched Sabrina and Maddy walk into their room next door. He grinned, like he had the whole drive back to the hotel.

&n
bsp; Opening his door and stepping in, the emptiness struck him. Her scent, the warmth she radiated, her glowing presence, all gone.

  “Chiara?” he called once the door shut. He scanned the room. Nothing. He paced, panic gripping his gut. What if the husband followed her? Those calm, controlled types were the ones who went wacko. What if he had a gun? He stopped. You have a cell, use it. He gritted his teeth and dialed her number. She answered with a cheery hello.

  “Where are you?” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, thanks. I was going to call you. My husband came to get me. Our youngest got really upset so we’re on our way there now.”

  She spoke to him like he was just a friendly acquaintance. He sank into the sofa. “Has he threatened you? How did he find you?”

  “He should be fine, thanks, Sabrina.”

  He leaned back. What the hell was she doing? “Talk to me, what--”

  “You too,” she said. “Maybe we can have lunch next week?”

  “I need to know--” his voice choked.

  “’Bye,” she said. Call ended.

  His breath came in ragged fits as his mind struggled to understand. Was she in danger? Was she playing for time? Was she brushing him off? Based on her previous behavior, his logic told him the last. That it had all been a lie and she’d gone back to her husband again.

  He shut his eyes and saw her, felt her. Her glowing face, her soft hair, her womanly, willing body under his, her taste, her tight, wet sweetness enveloping and gripping him. He groaned. He could go after her. But no, he had to drive Sabrina and Maddy home tomorrow. He could call back, make her let him talk to the husband. No, then if he was crazed, that might put her at more risk. He could call the cops. They must be driving Chiara’s car. Right, imagine that conversation: “Yes, you need to stop this Ford Escape and make sure Chiara Kirkwood is okay. No, I’m not her husband. Just the guy who made love to her before she left.” She promised she wouldn’t leave.

  He rubbed his forehead. He didn’t make love. He fucked women and he was good at it, no complaints. Maybe complaints, but only about the other stuff, the bullshit lack of intimacy, the clinging, and calling wanting to see him again after a one night stand or a few dates. But Chiara was different. She was his ultimate perfect combination of dirty and clean, sweet and bitter, a sexy, intoxicating concoction. He needed a drink. Instead, he flipped the TV back on and stared at it, phone in hand.

  His head jerked up. The phone rang and he fumbled for it on the cushion. One a.m.--he must have fallen asleep on the sofa. It was Chiara.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice muffled a little.

  “Where are you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “In the bathroom of the boys’ hotel room. Phil and I are sleeping with them. They’re all asleep.”

  “I don’t get it.” He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

  “I tried to tell you, Phil came to your hotel room. He had some tracking thing on my phone. Max was really upset. He’s been extra sensitive lately. We’re going home tomorrow, well, today, after lunch.”

  “You said you were going to let me take care of you.”

  “Huh? I can’t…Kitty and Phil have made it clear what they’ll do if I file for divorce. I can’t give them anything to use against me,” she whispered.

  “So, that’s it?” His mind swam. If? He grabbed for something, anything to make her see what she should. “Wait, those tracking programs aren’t that precise. How’d he know what room you were in? Just tell him the truth. He must already know something. I won’t let him--”

  “Just let me handle it,” she hissed. “I hear something. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

  He stared at the phone. She was sorry. Sorry to rip his heart out and spit on it, again. Sorry to beat him down to a bloody pulp and leave him for dead. What else could you expect from a Vitale? Wearily, he stood and went to the bathroom before crashing into the bed.

  The next morning, a knock on the door woke him. Another knock sounded as he eased out of bed, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Coming,” he shouted. It was Sabrina, smiling and cheerful.

  “Morning, Dad,” she said, standing in the doorway. “Maddy and I want to explore this morning. You said to tell you if we were going out. You didn’t answer your phone.”

  “Yeah. You two have fun,” he grumbled.

  “You okay? You look like hell and sound worse.”

  “Thanks a lot,” he said. He patted her cheek. “Rough night, that’s all. I’ll just relax so I can be ready to drive later.” The bright morning sun mocked him.

  She gave him her tiny worried frown. “Okay. Dad, are you sure you’re doing all right? I know you’ve been more stressed out since Grandpa had that heart attack last year, but lately you’re…and Shawn seemed to think--”

  “I said I’m fine,” he snapped. She turned her face, almost as if he’d slapped her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” His voice softened. “You and Maddy have a good time. I’m just tired.”

  “You are turning forty…” she said, her grin back.

  “Yeah, I’m an old man.” He sounded joking, but he felt around twice his age.

  She kissed his cheek. “No, you’re not, Daddy.” She started walking away but faced him again. “Have you heard from Chiara since you dropped her off yesterday? I was thinking of calling her to see how she is, but she might think that was weird. Maybe you could…”

  “Why the concern?” he said.

  She shrugged. “I got the feeling…her husband was kind of an…”

  “Yeah, I know. But we shouldn’t interfere. It’s her marriage.”

  “Sometimes people need help, right? Grandma and Grandpa always say it’s better to offer and know you tried than do nothing. Besides, I think Chiara would be glad if you called. I’ll check in later,” she said with a wink as she walked to her door.

  “Keep your phone on,” he said, reentering his room. He smiled slowly. Huh, maybe he should listen to his daughter. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been right. She and his mom had a lot in common that way. First, a shower, then he’d call.

  Chiara wouldn’t answer her phone. Damn voicemail every time. Over lunch with Sabrina and Maddy, he listened to them chatting happily and remembered their lunch with Chiara. She had been happy, enjoyed herself in a way she’d never let him see before. They could be good together, comfortable yet exciting. What had happened to his Buffone persistence? He wanted Chiara more than anything, ever, and he saw no reason to give up. Before they’d made love, he could convince himself otherwise, but that had changed everything. Now he needed a plan.

  The drive home along Highway 5 gave him plenty of time to think. A lot of those hours were spent wondering if Chiara and her husband and sons would appear at the next rest stop or gas station, but they never did. He dropped Sabrina and Maddy at his parents’. They had plans too, he knew, for his birthday dinner tomorrow night. Whatever happened, he intended to have the present he wanted.

  Once he got home, he opened his mail and tidied the house. He almost went to the store, but he wasn’t sure what Chiara liked to eat. They could go together. Maybe he should ask his dad for Monday off. It was his birthday, but more importantly, Chiara might need help moving her things or finding a lawyer. He strolled to her house as the sun began lowering, but only her husband’s Prius occupied the driveway.

  Eating dinner alone, he planned and let his mind dwell on her. Before going to bed, he walked around the block again, but still her house was dark and empty. Maybe they’d left L.A. late and had to stop overnight. That bastard better keep his hands to himself or Rocco would see him suffer. The boys would be with her, so surely she would be fine.

  Next morning, he dressed and prepared to walk to her house again, but Shawn showed up to take him to brunch. Luckily, he didn’t still have any beer in the house, because Shawn looked after he discovered Rocco hadn’t been to the AA meeting. Brunch had been good, but there was an unspoken tension between them which only
intensified after that discussion.

  “Look,” Rocco said as Shawn continued his search of the cabinets and closets, “you won’t find anything. I’m okay, honestly. I can’t say anything yet, but I hope to have some great news soon. At least, I hope you’ll think so.”

  Shawn stopped and studied him, arms crossed. “I don’t know what’s up with you lately, but I don’t like it. We better go, though, Grandma’s expecting us soon.”

  “I thought it was a dinner thing.”

  “Uncle Ray has an early shift at the hospital tomorrow, so more like late lunch. You have plans or something?”

  “Yeah, kinda, but I can wait until later.” Rocco followed his son out.