KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “What are you thinking about?” Harley asked, as the limo began to make its way onto the street.

  “I don’t know. How happy I am to get out of there?”

  “You don’t like these things?”

  “I don’t like feeling like a bug under a microscope.”

  “I’d think a guy like you would revel in the attention.”

  “A guy like me?”

  Laughter danced in her eyes. “Yeah. The kind of guy who uses his charm to get whatever he wants.”

  “And here I thought you’d forgotten our courtship.”

  I cupped my hand around her jaw as she began to laugh, drawing her into me. I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t be this close to her and pretend that I didn’t want her, that she wasn’t the first thing on my mind every morning and the last thing every night. My lips brushed hers and that was the last straw, the last barrier between us destroyed.

  I pulled her legs up over mine and buried myself against her like it wasn’t familiar territory, like I hadn’t learned every millimeter of this mouth, this body, over and over again over the past eighteen months. It was like coming home and exploring all new territory all at the same time. She smelled like my Harley, tasted like my Harley, but there was something so innocent and fresh in the way she responded to me that it was all brand new again.

  Her hand moved over my chest, hesitant but confident, that kind of movement that sets a new lover apart from all others. Even the most confident women were reluctant to seem too forward the first time. However, they always came around. Harley was different though. That hesitation had always remained in her touch, even after we’d been living together for months. It was like she couldn’t believe that she’d earned the right to touch me—and that made me feel like a superhero, like a god she’d placed on the highest of pedestals. It made me feel powerful and weak all at the same time.

  I slid my hand along her outer thigh, searching for the split in her skirt that had been teasing me all night. When my fingers finally found the edges, I pushed my hand underneath without even a hint of hesitation. Unlike Harley, I knew what I wanted, and I was going to take it.

  Her thighs were smooth, her hip firm and solid—despite the quiver of muscles just under the surface. I slid my hand over her ass, my fingers exploring places that made her gasp against my mouth. There was moisture there, a need that my body screamed to fulfil. I teased her, reaching deep between her legs to run my fingers tips over her outer lips, touching so close to that spot I knew was aching for the pressure of my fingers, but careful not to actually give her what she wanted. Anticipation is almost as good—if not better than satisfaction. That was something I’d taught her in the past, and I intended to remind her of it now.

  She tugged at my tie, loosening it as her hot breath moved over my chin to my throat. I pulled back just enough to let her nuzzle against my neck, my fingers tracing a pattern that made her shift her position, that made her reach down and tug at my hand. Instead, I pulled my hand free and pressed her forehead back, exposing the long line of her throat and the beautiful valley that lived between her breasts. I buried my face there, my breath coming in hard gasps as her scent surrounded me, as her fingers pressed into my hair and drew me closer.

  I wanted to taste her. I wanted to take my time with her, give her all the pleasure she’d denied me these last six months. But the need was so overwhelming that it became my only thought. I needed to be inside of her. Now.

  I lifted her onto my lap, my hands sliding under her skirt, sliding it up over her firm thighs in a show I’m sure the chauffeur was enjoying. Her boot was heavy and unyielding, forcing her to sit at a slightly awkward angle. And her hands were pressing against mine, pushing them back the opposite direction in which I wanted them to go.

  “Harley,” I groaned, grabbing her ass and pulling her hard against my erection, showing her how desperate I was. She groaned, her fingers twisting almost painfully in my hair as she kissed me with a lack of inhibition Harley had never shown before.

  Oh, hell! I was going to go insane if she didn’t stop!

  “I want you,” I moaned against her lips.

  “I want you, too.”

  And that…I didn’t even realize the car had stopped moving for a long moment, those words were ringing so loudly in my ears. But then the door opened and the cool evening air worked to clear my head just enough. I lifted Harley and set her on the bench beside me, tugging her skirt back to a more presentable position. We’d given the chauffeur enough of a show.

  We climbed out of the car, and I managed to remember the bills I’d stuck into my pocket specifically to tip the driver. I shook his hand, slipping him the money. He winked at me and hopped into the car, peeling out before we were even up to the door.

  I drew Harley in front of me as I unlocked the front door, my lips seeking hers as I blindly worked the key in the lock. She curled up against me, her body so supple and ready. I slid my free hand over her ass, loving the way it felt against my palm. So fucking familiar…who said that being with the same woman every night for a lifetime didn’t have its benefits?

  We spilled into the foyer as the lock finally gave way, falling against the wall as I managed to turn us at the last minute, stopping us from spilling across the unforgiving marble. I lifted her skirt, tugging her barely-there panties out of the way as her hands worked at my belt. But she wasn’t working fast enough. The urgency was taking over again, thrusting all thought from my mind but the need to be inside of her, the need to make her mine all over again.

  Who the hell made suit pants so fucking complicated, anyway? Why wouldn’t the zipper come down and get out of the damn way! And then…her hands wrapped around my length, and I thought I might lose control right there and then. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else. But then she was guiding me to her, and her ass was in my hands, and we were rocking together, her body welcoming me inside of her like a treasured guest.

  This. This was what made life worth living.

  “I love you,” I whispered against her lips, as the urgency turned into something else, something beyond physical pleasure.

  She wrapped her thighs around my hips and placed her hands against my shoulders, her hips doing so much more of the work. And I let her. I watched her writhe against me until her expression shattered and her orgasm rushed through her, a scream ripped from her throat. It was a beautiful scene that pushed me over the edge. I buried myself inside of her and let loose, the pleasure and the pain of it taking the steel out of my knees.

  And then she was laughing. Laughing! And peppering my face with kisses, pure joy flashing from her eyes.

  “That was…”

  I laughed, too.

  “I know.”

  Chapter 21

  Harley

  He carried me upstairs, and we undressed each other, taking our time this time. The way he looked at me, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited all his life to receive, made me feel like a queen, like the most adored starlet that ever existed. I’d never enjoyed being the center of attention, never played the role of a drama queen. But I loved this, loved the way it felt to be the center of his world.

  I loved him. There was no doubt in my mind.

  We moved together on the bed, our bodies fit together like they were made for one another. When he was inside of me this time, the pleasure was muted, but still just as exciting. I could have lain there all night, my hands moving over his warm skin, my body aware of every movement of his, his aware of every movement of mine. I touched his face and tilted his head so I could see the hooded look of his eyes; I could see my own thoughts mirrored there.

  “I love you, Harley,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you.”

  I wished I could say the same. I couldn’t remember our first meeting, but something inside of me screamed that it was the same, that I knew the first time he looked at me this way that he was the only man I would ever love again.

&
nbsp; “I love you,” I said.

  The joy that jumped into his eyes in that moment, the passion in the kiss he offered me, told me everything was going to be okay. Whatever happened in the past no longer mattered. He was my future—and that was all.

  It was a long time before sleep came. When our bodies were exhausted, we lay together, talking about everything and nothing all at once. We watched the sun come up through the French doors to the balcony, curled up together there in the bed. I sensed we’d done this before, and it was a comforting idea. Normalcy. It seemed like nothing had been normal these last months. But this was.

  When I did fall asleep, it was a deep, contented sleep. And, for a while, it was good. But then the dreams began.

  It was a jumble at first. Different locations, different people all mixed up into a mish mosh of details. There was emotion, a lot of emotion. Anger. Fear. Betrayal. Love. Always underneath it all was love, and that seemed to make it all so much worse. And the pain. It was so much more than the physical pain of my accident.

  And then there were clear images. Moments that I instinctively knew were memories.

  Standing in the middle of a gallery, dressed in shorts, my hair a mess. Xander watching me from his position against the wall. He was dressed in a suit and tie, but he didn’t seem to be feeling the heat. I was annoyed that he didn’t offer to help, but when he did offer, I wanted him to disappear. I didn’t need help from someone like him. I didn’t know who I thought he was, but I instinctively knew he was trouble.

  A few days later, I walked out of the gallery and found him loitering around my car, trying to look casual, but clearly waiting for me. At first, I was annoyed. But then I thought it was kind of cute, how uncomfortable he looked in his uncertainty. Not enough to accept his offer of coffee, but cute just the same.

  And then he kept showing up, once with a bouquet of roses. I told him I hated flowers, so he came the next day with chocolates. I accused him of trying to blow my diet, so then he brought a gold keychain with my initials in it because he’d seen that my keychain was broken.

  So considerate. How could I say no then?

  And then the first date. He showed up when I lost track of time and caught me still in my studio. I took a quick shower, all too aware of him waiting, alone, downstairs in my tiny house. Wondering what he thought of my house, of my possessions, if he’d see anything that would scare him off. As uncertain as I was about this man—this stranger I barely knew who just came off as the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type—I didn’t want him to give up on me. I wanted to know where this might go.

  And then…God, it was a perfect first date! He could kiss like a god! I was so close to letting him inside.

  If he’d known how lost I was that first night, he might not have waited three months to invite himself into my bed. But I was glad he did. He showed that he wasn’t just in it for the sex…and that was so amazing! I’d never known how great sex could be. I mean, when Philip James is your only experience…yet, I couldn’t imagine it would have been that great with anyone but Xander.

  The night we lay in his hotel room bed and he asked me to move in with him…I would have gone home right then and there to pack my bags. But then, adding the stuff about Margaret Wallace wanting me to paint a mural for her…it was just the icing on the cake.

  It was all coming back, every incredible minute of it. And not just Xander. I remembered my brother, Charlie, and his argument with Daddy over his decision to go premed instead of the veterinarian route. I remembered the Christmas I took Xander home with me, how I snuck a good bottle of brandy out of Daddy’s liquor cabinet and drank it out in the barn with Charlie, trying to convince him that adulthood wasn’t all defiance and struggle. I remembered waking up sometime before dawn, Xander laughing as he held my hair out of the way while all that brandy made a second appearance.

  I remembered it all.

  I sat up in the darkness, my head pounding as the memories continued to pour forth.

  I remembered it all.

  I climbed out of bed and grabbed a bathrobe off the back of the bathroom door, still hanging there even though I moved out of this room six months ago. I rushed upstairs to my studio, pushing aside a rollaway shelf that concealed the little safe I’d had put in there a few weeks after moving into the house. Xander knew about it. It’d been his idea.

  “Everyone has valuables, Harley. You should have the safe just in case.”

  I never imagined I would use it for anything more important than a life insurance policy, maybe a copy of our marriage certificate. But we never got it, did we?

  Why did it take me so long to put it together? I saw them together; I knew there was something more going on there than he ever told me. But I never stopped long enough to wonder just how much more because I never wanted to believe that Xander would lie to me.

  How naive could I be?

  It was still there. Thank God. I knew he didn’t have the combination, but there were other ways to get into a safe. All those weeks, I had to bide my time. I had to plan the perfect moment to get back into the house and take this out. Show it to that reporter.

  What were the chances that he would be there tonight? Was that what brought my memory back? Or was it seeing Jonnie? Seeing Xander’s mother, Bonnie, probably helped, too.

  They were all involved.

  I was so stupid to not see it all so much sooner. I wanted to believe in Xander so much; I wanted to hide in our relationship so desperately that I ignored the proof that was right there in front of my face.

  I couldn’t ignore it forever.

  “Harley? Are you up here?”

  I quickly replaced it in the safe and slammed it closed, and then I moved the shelf back into place. I was turning as Xander came up the last few stairs, naked except for a pair of thin sleep pants that did little to hide the impressive length of his handsome body.

  I reached up to run my fingers through my hair, but, of course, it wasn’t there.

  “Are you okay?”

  I backed up instinctively.

  “I remember.”

  That was all I had to say.

  Chapter 22

  Xander

  I never meant to get involved. I knew what Grant was up to, but I kept my distance. When he offered me money, I refused to take it. When he tried to buy me a house, I told him I’d rather do things on my own. He didn’t understand it. My mom, Margaret, they were both eager to share in the wealth. But not me. I wanted to keep my hands clean, to be the good man my mom had always told me I could be.

  Even if she wasn’t the angel I’d always believed her to be.

  And when I met Harley, I thought she was my chance for a new start. I thought I could put all this behind me. I never expected her to learn the truth.

  “You remember?”

  She didn’t have to answer. I could see it in her face. The weariness that had come that day, the day she found out about me and Margaret…

  “You were married to Margaret?”

  The disbelief in her voice as the county clerk stared at us through the dirty Plexiglas shield around her little cage was enough to strip me bare. I tried to touch her, but she pulled away, turned, and stormed out of the building.

  “If you could just get that divorce decree,” the clerk said.

  “Yes, thank you very fucking much!”

  I chased her out onto the front steps of the county building. She was standing on the sidewalk, staring at the passing traffic as though she didn’t really see any of it. I walked up behind her and laid my hands on her shoulders. She jerked away and turned, slapping me hard enough to make the inside of my lip bleed.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why would you let me find out like this?”

  “I wanted to tell you, Harley. But you always cut me off whenever I started to explain…”

  “Margaret. It’s bad enough that you married once and didn’t bother to tell me. But to Margaret? To the woman I work with? The woman who spends almost as much time in our
house as we do?”

  I didn’t know what to say. I knew it was wrong; I knew I should have tried harder to tell her. But with everything else going on, it seemed almost trivial.

  A taxi pulled up then to discard its passenger. Harley climbed in before I realized what she was doing, the car pulling away from the curb almost instantly.

  “I remember everything,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, her back pressed against the rollaway shelf that hid her safe.

  Was she looking in the safe when I called out to her? What was she hiding in there?

  Did it matter anymore?

  “Then you remember our plans. You remember how we feel about each other.”

  “I remember you lied to me.”

  “I was protecting you.”

  “You were protecting yourself.”

  She might be right about that. I thought I was doing the right thing for us both, but maybe I was only thinking of myself. Maybe I was selfish in the way I went about it. But I still believed my intentions were right.

  “I had to do something. If I didn’t—”

  “You put us both in danger, Xander.”

  Her face crumbled, and she sank to her knees, sobs vibrating through her body. I went to her, not sure she would welcome my touch, but grateful when she didn’t push me away.

  “I love you,” I whispered, as I sank to the floor beside her and pulled her into my arms. “I just wanted to make this right for us, for our future.”

  “You should have trusted me.”

  “I thought I was protecting you.”

  She curled into me. I kissed away her tears, our lips meeting on a long, lingering touch that I wished could last forever. I had my Harley back. And, for the moment, I was going to celebrate that.

  She crawled into my lap, her lips sliding over my throat.

  “It was so hard, being away from you.”

  I groaned. “I know, baby. That restraining order just about killed me.”