KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I walked over and stuck my finger in some icing, licking it slowly off my finger. Not bad.

  There was a card hanging from a ribbon.

  Enjoy yourself for once, it read.

  There was no signature, but I knew whom it was from.

  “Fuck you, Justin,” I muttered as I studied the cake. It was huge, not the kind of thing you usually bake in an oven. It was more like the kind beautiful women jump out of. But nothing was happening.

  “Someone in there?” I asked, moving closer, aware that there was some sort of tissue covering a large opening in the top.

  I suddenly had this idea that the cake contained some girl who’d suffocated waiting for me to get home. I had no idea how long this had been here. Was it possible to suffocate inside a fake cake?

  “Hey!” I called a little louder, rapping my knuckles against the wooden side of the highest tier. “Anyone home?”

  Still there was no answer. I tugged my cellphone out of my pocket, thinking I might need to call 9-1-1. Or Justin and ask him what the hell he was thinking, leaving this dud in the middle of my foyer. But then I spotted a bag stuck behind the cake and a step that was built into the bottom of the cake. I stepped up on it and ripped the tissue paper off the top. And nestled inside was a sleeping beauty if I’d ever seen one.

  It was my accounting assistant dressed in nothing but a bikini.

  “What the hell?” I muttered again, not sure if I was more surprised or pleased.

  Chapter 5

  Joey

  “Hey,” a warm, deep voice said from somewhere above me.

  I was dreaming. I was at work, but instead of sitting in my cubicle, I was leaning over Mr. Brooks’ desk, and he was talking to me about billboards and t-shirts and things that just didn’t really make sense. I was in a bikini, and he was standing behind me, his hands moving over my hips like a man molding wet clay on a spinning wheel.

  “Joanne? You need to wake up.”

  It was the use of my given name that made me fight off the heavy weight of the dream. I moved, stretching an arm, but it hit resistance a lot sooner than it should have if I were lying in my bed. My wrist smacked into wood, the resounding thud resonating through my head. I opened my eyes and…oh, hell!

  I looked up and piercing blue eyes were staring down at me from the top of the cake.

  “Oh, God!”

  I sat up, my body immediately protesting the movement. He reached in to help me out, and I wanted to refuse his touch, but I knew I couldn’t get out without some help. I’d been sitting in the same position for too long. But he was so close and this damn bikini...

  I crossed an arm over my chest as I accepted his hand with the other. He gently pulled me to my feet, my thighs protesting as I came up on all three inches of the heels I was wearing. I’d fallen asleep. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep! And he was watching me, a bemused look on his face.

  “If you could just back up a little,” I said, my arm still over my chest. The last thing I wanted was for him to get more than an eyeful when I turned and stepped over the edge of the cake.

  He let go of my hand and stepped down, moving back a few feet. But his eyes never left me, and that made me more self-conscious than I was already.

  I climbed down and my phone began to buzz. Rosie. Why hadn’t she called me a few minutes sooner? Maybe then I would have been awake when he came home.

  When he came home…this was Mr. Brooks’ house?

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I said softly.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “What time is it?”

  “A little after eleven.”

  “A couple of hours,” I said, putting my phone to sleep and reaching around to put it in a pocket that wasn’t there.

  I was in a bikini. I was standing in Mr. Brooks’ house in a bikini.

  “If I’d known you were here…”

  I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what he meant, so I didn’t know how to respond.

  “Are you going to look at me?” he asked.

  I turned slowly, tears burning the back of my throat.

  “I’m really sorry. I guess I fell asleep.”

  “You did,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes even as he managed not to smile. “Do you moonlight or something?”

  “My sister.” I gestured to the cake behind me. “She works for a singing telegram company, but her boyfriend didn’t want her to do this one, so I agreed to do it so she wouldn’t lose her job.”

  “Why didn’t her boyfriend want her to do it?”

  “Because she normally has this guy with her…Rahul. But they didn’t know how long you would be and if you walked into your house and found a strange guy here…”

  “They sent him home. So you’re alone.”

  I tilted my head slightly. “Yeah.”

  He frowned. “That doesn’t seem smart to me.”

  “It’s three hundred dollars.”

  “Don’t I pay you well enough?”

  I blushed, dropping my arms to my side as I struggled to explain myself. “You pay me very well, Mr. Brooks. But I have debts, so I work several jobs to try to get them paid off.”

  He nodded, but his eyes were no longer on my face. They were moving slowly over the length of me. He crossed his arms over his chest, stepping back just slightly until his back hit the wall as though he was afraid that if he didn’t put distance between us, he might touch me. And that thought made my nipples harden, reminding me of the ill-fitting bikini top. I crossed my own arms over my chest, adjusting them a few times to make sure everything was fully covered.

  He cleared his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor.

  “You should probably put some clothes on.”

  I turned to grab my bag, but I moved too fast on the unfamiliar shoes. I stumbled and would have pitched forward and cracked my head on the side of the cake if he hadn’t come up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. He pulled me back against his chest, his bare hands pressed against my skin just under my ribs. For just a moment, I leaned back into him, the feel of his strong arms and firm chest bringing every nerve in my body alive.

  “You need to be a little more careful, Ms. Forman,” he said, his voice just a little breathless. “Can’t have you cracking your head open in my foyer.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  He didn’t let me go. He pulled me even closer against him, his hip pressing against my back. I thought…I couldn’t have. But I really thought that maybe, just maybe…

  “My brother keeps telling me that I need to live a little,” he said. “I think that’s why he arranged for this little surprise.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Justin. He’s something of a practical joker.”

  “His wife must be in on it, too, because she was the one who let us in and helped us set up.”

  “Yeah?” His hand was flat against my side now, his fingers moving over my back in tiny, little strokes. “Sara would do just about anything for Justin.”

  “It’s nice that your family cares that much about you.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish they would care a little less.”

  He let go of me suddenly, all in one, quick movement. I almost pitched forward again, but managed to catch myself. I bent to pick up my bag, aware of how close he still stood behind me. I hoped my ass wasn’t falling out of the bikini bottoms like my breasts were; I hoped that it wasn’t a horribly unattractive sight.

  I turned, my lip caught between my teeth as I let myself take in everything about him. He was so gorgeous. And he looked exhausted, standing there in the same suit he’d been wearing earlier, just with the tie loosened and the jacket missing. I wanted to touch him and had this really strong desire to run my hand over his jaw. I don’t know why, but I wanted to stand close to him and just breathe in his scent. There was something about him that just made my insides turn to jelly and my common sense go flying out the window.

  The way he was looking at me
…I was beginning to wonder if he was having some of the same thoughts about me.

  “I should…” I said, gesturing toward the powder room that was somewhere behind me.

  He nodded. But before I could move, he crossed to me, took my face between his hands and kissed me. And it wasn’t just a friendly, hey-I-just-found-you-hiding-in-a-cake-in-my-entryway sort of kiss. It was an I-want-to-discover-everything-about-you kind of kiss. It was the kind of kiss that a guy you’ve been dating for a lifetime gives you when he can no longer wait for you to be ready. It was the kind of kiss a man who hasn’t touched a woman in too long offers.

  And I, as crazy as it was, responded with just as much demand, just as much need. I opened to him, welcomed him inside of me, and loved the way his tongue touched places inside my mouth that I was pretty certain had never been touched. And when he touched them, something corresponded with other parts of my body, bringing to life things that had nothing to do with this kiss but wanted equal attention just the same.

  It was amazingly good. I didn’t want it to stop. But it did.

  He backed away, holding up his hands and looking at me as if he thought I would slap him.

  “I don’t know why I did that.”

  “Maybe it’s the bikini,” I said, not ever sure where it came from.

  A slow smile slipped over his kiss swollen lips. “Maybe. It is a little skimpy.”

  “It was meant for my sister. She’s a little smaller,” I said, gesturing toward my chest.

  He licked his bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth. “That would have been my guess.”

  “I should go,” I said. “I’m sorry I ruined your surprise.”

  “You didn’t,” he said.

  I smiled. I knew I should go; I knew that I should get dressed and call Rahul or Rosie or someone, but I couldn’t make myself move. The way he was looking at me. I wanted to stand there all night and bask in that admiration. I wanted him to kiss me again; I wanted his hands on my body.

  I knew I could lose my job, but I wanted what he’d unconsciously offered with his kiss.

  I dropped my bag without even thinking about it and reached behind me, tugging at the thin strings holding the bikini top in place.

  His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. He came to me, his mouth gentler as he kissed me again. I moved into him and slid my arms around his neck, my fingers teasing the thick hair just barely touching his collar.

  The bikini top fell, and he took one breast into his hand, my nipple rubbing roughly against his palm. He tugged me closer against him, one arm around my waist, his hand dipping low against the small of my back. His lips moved down over my chin, his mouth finding a tender corner of my throat, his tongue and his teeth doing amazing things that sent wave after wave of pleasure down my spine that ended up right in my lower belly, making me ache so much that I tugged at his hand and drew him down to my cunt, to my swollen clit.

  He groaned, as he rained kissed over my chest before he drew one, then the other, nipple into his mouth. His tongue did this lovely swirling thing that made me want to scream and pull him inside of me right there and right then. But then his mouth was on my throat again as his hands slid around to the back of my thighs and he picked me up off the floor. I wrapped my legs around his waist, a tiny bit of relief bursting through me as my clit rubbed up against his lower belly.

  We kissed for a long moment, then he broke away, carrying me toward the stairs. I’d never been carried anywhere before. The sensation was disconcerting. But his arms wrapped around me, and I laid my head on his shoulder and felt safer than I had in a very long time. I ran my fingers through his hair, teasing it there where it was getting a little long just above his collar. He nuzzled my neck a little, then stole another kiss.

  I couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t believe I was in this house, touching this man, letting him carry me up to his bedroom. It made my belly quiver and my thighs ache. I moved my hips a little, and he groaned. We couldn’t get to the bedroom fast enough.

  He set me on the bed and stepped back slightly, his eyes moving over me as he tugged at his tie, pulling it over his head and tossing it away.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice nothing more than a low groan.

  The thing was, I felt beautiful when he looked at me like that.

  He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled that over his head, too, tossing it aside like he’d done with his tie. His chest was bare, just the thinnest amount of hair growing between his heavy pecs. There was a tattoo along his ribs that surprised me a little. He didn’t seem like the type. I wanted to touch it, to run my fingers over the letters.

  “Ex-girlfriend?” I asked, sitting up to do just that, to trace the letters.

  “No,” he said, his fingers fumbling over his belt.

  I pushed his hands away and worked the belt myself. He stood still, his hands at his side, and watched. I pulled the belt free and dropped it to the floor, my eyes on his, and then I began to work the button above his fly. He closed his eyes briefly, and then focused on me, the intensity of his gaze almost more than I could bear.

  His zipper slid easily, his cock pressed so hard against the front of his boxer briefs that I could almost see the veins of his shaft. I ran my fingers over him, and he groaned. But when I tugged at the top of his briefs, he grabbed my wrist and held me still for a moment. I thought he was going to stop me completely, that he was going to push me back onto the bed and take this thing to the next level. But then he released me and dropped his hand back to his side.

  I’m not really going to do this, am I?

  But I thought the moment of backing down had already passed. I pulled his briefs down and caught my breath at the sight of his beautiful cock. It was long and slender and pale and…

  God, I’m staring at my boss’s cock! I’m so losing my mind!

  I wrapped my hand around the shaft and lowered my head just slightly, my lips already slightly parted to welcome him inside my mouth. His abs flexed, as I drew him slowly inside, running my tongue lightly around his glans. He groaned as I took him slowly, very slowly, letting his head rub ever so perfectly against the roof of my mouth. Then I backed away and tried again, taking him just a little deeper the second time. And then I found a nice rhythm, taking him a little deeper each time until he was pressing with growing persistence against the back of my throat.

  He was quiet as he watched me. His hands remained at his sides for a while, but then he pressed them against the back of my head. At one point, he tugged the band holding my ponytail, causing my hair to cascade down my back. His fingers were warm, insistent, as he dragged them through my long tresses, tugging at a few knots, pulling the waves out and straight against my bare back.

  After a while, he pushed me back against the mattress, a hungry look in his eyes as he tugged at the strings on either side of my bikini bottoms. They fell easily from my body, exposing me completely to his gaze. He didn’t seem disappointed. And then he was braced over me, his lips tugging at my bottom lip. I ran my hands over his ribs and back, my body slowly remembering what it was like to be touched by a man. But his touch was so different from anything I had known before. He knew what he was doing. There was none of the awkward fumbling that often came with a first time, or an only-done-this-in-the-back-of-Daddy’s-car time. It was as if his touch was familiar with my body even as he discovered it for the first time. He seemed to know exactly where to touch me to make me moan, where to touch me to make me shiver. His mouth on mine was like all the best tasting foods in the world touching my taste buds all at once. His fingers moving over my inner thigh, searching for my swollen clit, was like the anticipation that was always better than the moment of satisfaction. Only, this time, satisfaction was just as sweet.

  I arched my back as his fingers found my entrance, sliding inside of me with a lovely pressure that was only a taste of what I knew would soon be coming. But then he pulled away, a slight chuckle falling from his lips when I moaned in
protest.

  “Someone’s ready,” he said softly against my ear.

  “Please,” was my only response.

  And that made him groan.

  He slid his finger inside of me, pressing so deep that the heel of his hand ground against my clit. My breath seemed to stutter in my chest as I again writhed beneath him, moving my hips against him at the same moment my back came off the bed. I twisted away from him, his lips grazing my shoulder as he watched the pleasure force my body to take over all my senses. When I lay back down, he nibbled at my jaw, as he slowly removed his finger once again.

  My mouth opened to beg when I felt his knuckles brush against my outer lips. And then his head was pressed against my opening, the hunger in his eyes transforming his handsome face into something even more beautiful. And then he was sliding slowly inside of me, his shaft touching things that I don’t think have ever been touched. My senses came alive as if someone had set a firecracker off inside of me, my muscles wrapping around him like they were determined to never let him leave. I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him as close against me as I could. And then we both lay there, just enjoying that first moment, waiting for our nerves to stop going haywire, threatening to push us off that cliff a moment too soon.

  When he began to move, all I could think about was him, the way his skin felt pressed against mine, the way his lips tasted against mine, the way his hands felt on my hips, my breasts. And then I couldn’t think. It was all sensation, all about the little sparks—millions and millions of them—rushing up and down my spine and deep in my lower belly. They built to a crescendo like a great symphony piece, rising and rising until I thought I couldn’t take it anymore. And then the moment of climax, that moment when the pleasure couldn’t rise any higher and something finally had to give.

  I cried out. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to. And then his voice rose to the same level, a bellow that announced his own jump over the cliff, his cock swelling and pressing even deeper inside of me. I wrapped myself around him, my legs around his waist, my arms around his ribs, holding him as we both rode the wave.