Stripped Down

by Eden Butler

  I wanted to kiss her right then, almost more than I had two days ago when I’d stopped by to tell her about the designer meeting with her. She’d been honest with me, real. It had been the first time I’d seen that, really seen that from her since we were kids, and I’d been aching for more of the same.

  There was so much noise around us—my family being loud and obnoxious, the waitstaff buzzing around us to make sure the bread and drinks had been replenished. But the only thing I noticed was that faint rosemary scent coming off Sammy’s long, thick hair and how the dim light above us reflected in her bright green eyes.

  Sammy watched me with her elbows resting on the table, her chin on her knuckles and the gorgeous, movie-star face turned toward me like a work of art etched out of marble. So much flawless perfection and only I was allowed to see her this way.

  “What are you looking at, Johnny Carelli?” she asked.

  She was so close and not close enough at all.

  “Everything, Sammy. Absolutely everything.”

  Sammy hadn’t smiled at me this much since the night of her eighteenth birthday. But I think that was mainly because her uncle had allowed her to leave with Cara, thinking she’d stay all night with my sister in the pool house of my father’s home, watching movies and swimming under the careful supervision of his guards. Cara had acted like a good friend, which she had been at the time. But she’d been a better sister, convincing our father that she and Sammy were tired and would spend the night alone in the pool house. Sammy did, at least. Cara didn’t. My sister slipped out at eleven, hours after my father went to sleep, and I met Sammy to give her my present—me.

  It had been the best night of my life. Touching her, tasting her, feeling everywhere I’d only teased, every sweet part I’d dreamed about but wasn’t allowed. She’d been relaxed, calm afterward, falling into me, wanting me again and again, teasing me herself, making jokes until we were both breathless.

  Tonight, I’d seen a bit of that girl, surrounded by my family, watching Antonia being teased by her brothers, hearing Kiel giving back all that we gave him. Sammy laughed at us, all of us, and my God had she been beautiful doing it.

  “It’s good that Dario is home,” she said, walking next to me as I led her down the hallway to her door. “I haven’t seen Antonia that happy in a long time.”

  “Me either.”

  My cousins ended the night by closing the restaurant, waving me, Sammy, Kiel, and Cara away as we made our goodnights. Last glance I took, I spotted the three of them huddled at the end of the table sharing a bottle of bourbon, heads together as they talked. Smoke was right. It had been good to see. I worried about Dario, about how he’d do after so long locked inside. Some people weren’t ever the same again, but he wasn’t just some people. He was a Carelli. Besides, family never leaves you, no matter how many hurdles you throw in its way.

  “You think he’ll be okay?” Sammy asked, seeming to read my mind. She tilted her head, looking curious when I moved my eyebrows up. “What?”

  “I was just wondering that myself.”

  She leaned back against the wall next to her door, her keys dangling from her finger. “Is this where you tell me we’ve always had this stupid psychic connection?”

  “Think that would get me inside?”

  She laughed, likely a little buzzed or, at least, relaxed enough not to be bothered when I moved a palm next to her head on the wall and stared down at her. “No. It won’t,” Sammy said. She looked like she wanted to argue with me, may have even been thinking of something clever and sarcastic to say, but I moved then, lifting her chin with my knuckle. And the smile and smartass comment disappeared from her mouth. “What…what are you doing?” Her question came out in a long, panting breath, but Sammy knew what I wanted. It was the same thing she’d wanted from me since the day I sent her the flowers.

  “Can’t you figure it out?”

  She’d always been a good girl, sweet, dutiful. But when I had her, she opened up, became passionate, primal. I saw hints of the woman she was, the creature she had been, surfacing as I moved closer toward her.

  “Sammy, you tell me to walk away, and I will.” I inhaled, my mouth watering at the hint of wine I smelled on her breath and the heat coming from her body. “But I want you to know, because I don’t think I’m the only one thinking these things here…that I want you. I want to taste every inch of you.” I moved closer still, turning her face to press the slightest hint of a kiss against the shell of her ear. “From your ear,” I said, sucking on the lobe, loving how she shook against me, “to the long, sweet slope of your neck.” I kissed her there, running my wet mouth along her neck, down to her clavicle, and Sammy curled her arms around my shoulders, trembling now as though she needed to anchor herself to something solid and steady. She went on shaking, her body going limp when I pressed against her, holding her by the waist to push her into me. “Tell me now,” I said next to her ear. “I’m a patient man. I can wait for you. You want me to leave, I will. I’ll go home and think about how many ways I want to take you and taste you.” At that, the grip she had on my shoulders tightened, and Sammy slipped her fingers into my hair. “If you don’t, I’m going to rush you into your apartment. I’m going to take off that pretty little skirt of yours and slip your panties down those long, beautiful legs.” A low, whining groan left her throat, and her grip on my hair tightened. “Then I’m going to lean you back on whatever flat surface I find and spread you wide. I’m going to make you wet, bella, and I’m going to fucking devour you.”

  “Johnny…ah…”

  There was a hesitation. It would always be there. I’d hurt her so much. She was doubting the wisdom of us together. Maybe she always would. But she knew, I think, somewhere deep down inside her, she knew I really was sorry. “Bella,” I tried, my voice serious, my gaze on hers. “I’m not the kid who broke your heart anymore.” I kissed her mouth one slow, sweet time. “I’ll never be him again.”

  She watched me then, a decision seeming to work through her eyes, her expression shifting from hesitation to fear then back to lust when I licked my bottom lip again.

  “Tell me,” I said, pulling back to see her expression. “Do you want me to walk away or take you inside?”

  She sucked on her lip, her body pressed tightly to mine, hands shifting until her palms were flat on my cheeks. And Samantha Nicola, the most beautiful woman I’d ever known, kissed me right on the mouth. It took me a second to realize what she was doing. It took three more to wonder if this was a goodbye or an invitation into her home, but then as soon as the kiss started, just before I’d fully started to enjoy it, Sammy backed away, staring up at me with her eyes all dark and wide, her mouth plump and wet from our kiss.

  “Take me inside, Johnny. Right now.”

  7

  Sammy

  He took control. Always. Two sentences and Johnny opened my door, throwing my keys and bag to the floor. He had me in his arms, and I didn’t care. He kissed me like he owned me and, in that moment, I guess he did. I allowed myself to admit he always had.

  I didn’t think about anything but the way he moved over me, how his mouth demanded, how there was so much strength in his hands, how he unbuttoned my shirt and slipped my zipper, then my skirt, down my legs. And then I found myself standing there, in the center of my living room with only the table lamp to light the entire apartment, in just my underwear and heels, with Johnny Carelli watching me, sizing me up like I was the prey and he was a starving lion.

  I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Nearing thirty put miles on my body, but I wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. If he expected me to look like I had ten years ago, he’d be disappointed. But then, Johnny only seemed concerned with looking me over, with tearing his jacket off and prowling forward, grabbing me by the hips, and holding me against his body again. He was so hard all over—his arms, his chest, his stomach, his…my goodness, everywhere I could imagine.

  “Sammy, go to the couch,” he demanded, nodded like he knew I’d only h
ave to be told once. I didn’t like being bossed around, but something deep inside me liked the expression on Johnny’s face when I walked away from him. It seemed to make him happy to watch me move.

  “You like seeing that?” I asked, walking backward, smile widening when he nodded, not speaking a word. “Do you like it more when I do this?” I turned, wondering where I’d summoned the bravado to show him my naked backside, fully aware I’d worn a thong that morning. The groan of pleasure he released was satisfaction enough to tamp down any ego-smashing I might have felt at him telling me what to do.

  “Oddio, bella, that ass…”

  “You like it?” I knew he did, especially when he hurried toward me, untucking his button-up shirt and kicking off his shoes. He reached for his pants, but he stopped short when I slipped my fingers underneath the thin straps at my hips, tugging at them. The hungry smile on his face lowered, replaced by something that looked ancient and primitive, something I’d only seen from Johnny once, a very long time ago.

  “I like everything you do, Samantha.” He stood in front of me and reached for my wrists, taking both in his hands to pepper kisses along the insides of my arms and loop them around his neck. Johnny seemed to love my fingers in his hair, and he moved them there as he went to his knees, kissing between my breasts, holding my back to tease my ribs, then my stomach with slow, wet kisses as the hold I had on his hair went tighter. “Delicious,” he mumbled against my skin, slowing his attentions when he took hold of my thong, moving the straps down, his gaze up at my face, watching me, looking closely as he slipped the fabric down my legs.

  Another kiss landed on one hip, followed by a second, then Johnny looked at me again, teasing the insides of my thighs with the tips of his fingers. My stomach jumped, and the tightness working deep inside me quickened until I felt wetter, until the heat he stirred inside me had my nipples hardening.

  “Touch me,” I said, pulling him close as my eyes slid closed.

  Johnny obeyed, groaning as he fingered me slowly.

  “Johnny…”

  “Sit down, bella. I wanna taste you.”

  Seconds after he led me to the couch and moved between my knees, holding me open to him, his hands flat against my thighs, his palms spreading me apart, Johnny kissed my center. He licked me at first with long swipes of his tongue, devouring me like a meal just as he promised. Then as the sensation began to build and I pressed his head closer and closer, Johnny slipped two fingers inside me, seeming to hold me everywhere—at my core, at the legs, in my mind, even at my breasts when he reached up with his free hand to pull down my bra and tease my hardened nipple.

  “Johnny… Oh God… I’m so close…”

  Every inch of me felt electrified. And it was him, the sensation of Johnny—the boy I’d loved, the man I wanted and should never, ever be with—tasting me, waking up all the long-dead sensations I’d told myself I’d never feel again. No one had ever touched me like this. No one had ever made my body sing and soar quite like he did.

  “Bella…I feel how tight you are…” he said, still fingering me, head lifting to watch me as he found that spot deep inside me and teased it into oblivion. “So wet and tight and fucking perfect.” Johnny moved forward, licking my nipple, sucking hard, nibbling it as he continued to work me from the inside. I clenched around him, wanting that pending climax to reach me. “Cuore mio, you are beautiful and so delicious.” He moved his hands faster, worked hard as he took my mouth. “Come for me, love. I want to see you.”

  Several seconds later, with Johnny moving his hand, working my sweet spot, and his attention back on my nipple, I finally came. But when I did, everything brightened and lifted, the world around me like a carnival of sensation I never wanted to leave. Ripples of bliss and pleasure washed over me until I couldn’t breathe. Until the only thing I could register was Johnny’s warm, soft kisses against my neck and the sweet, throbbing sensation between my legs. I was sated but not finished.

  He lay next to me, smiling, his hands resting on my backside. He kissed over my shoulder as he lowered the strap of my bra until he finally moved me, shifting our positions. I straddled him on my couch, liking the power I felt looming over him. The expression of sheer eager desire on Johnny’s face as he lowered my bra and stared openly at my naked body.

  We didn’t speak as he touched me. The slow trek of his fingertips across my collarbone, between my breasts, followed by the shift of his gaze, said enough to me. He was ready to burst from wanting me, and I felt the same.

  Johnny seemed to hold his breath as I leaned forward. The tips of my nipples touched each expanse of skin exposed when I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed apart the fabric. He was still so beautiful.

  “What’s this?” I asked, touching a long, white scar that ran down the center of his chest. It was the only imperfection on his solid, muscular chest.

  “I was reckless for a long time,” he admitted, brushing the hair off my forehead when I leaned forward to get a better look at the scar. “It was a long time ago.”

  I kissed it anyway, loving the smile he gave me and the low, growling noise of pleasure he released when that simple kiss transformed. I inched down his body, to his flat, taut abdomen. I watched him, a little empowered when Johnny bit his lip as I unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, releasing the zipper until I gripped him in my hands.

  “Fuck, Sammy…oddio…”

  He was beautiful, from the strength of his large, muscular frame to the perfect contours of his big dick. I held it. Loving the weight of it. Loving the power I felt just taking it in my hand. I closed my mouth over the head, licking the tip, remembering this and how much he’d enjoyed when I tasted him here.

  Immediately, Johnny began a rushed, muted litany of words I couldn’t make out, incomprehensible things he said to himself that I took as complimentary. But when I stroked him, still holding him in my mouth, Johnny stiffened. He gripped my arms, flipping us, until I was on my back and he lay on top of me.

  He rose up on his elbows, using his knee to move my legs apart as he held himself above, ready to enter me. “For the love of Christ, tell me you’re on something.”

  “The shot.” I smiled, looking up, waiting. “And you?”

  “I can’t get pregnant, bella.” When I frowned, he laughed, scrubbing his face. “Clean. On my parents’ graves, I’m clean.” The smallest nod from me and Johnny moved forward, kissing me. His mouth pressed hard, tongue demanding as he put his weight onto both palms and slipped into me. When he was fully inside and thrust his hips once, we both exhaled, breathing out a strangled pant as ten long years of loss, of distance, of so many lies and deceit shifted, and there was only the two of us pushed back together, settled into this moment.

  “Ah…Johnny,” I said, lifting my legs, loving that he held one in his hand as he surged forward.

  “Sammy, God, baby…I’ve missed you.”

  We would have gone on like that, maybe spent the entire night wrapped up in each other, enjoying each other’s bodies, making up for the time we’d lost. But as Johnny started to make love to me and his movements began to quicken, my cell phone rang, interrupting the fog of pleasure.

  “Get up,” I said, not caring that he tried to argue.

  “Sammy…”

  “Johnny, get off me.”

  “Let your voice mail…”

  “No, I can’t.”

  He moved, likely hearing the panic I knew was in my voice. I wiggled away from him and darted around the room, grabbing my purse from the floor to dig for my phone. I managed to answer before the caller hung up.

  “Hello?” I said, seeing Johnny in my peripheral as he sat on the couch. He didn’t bother to cover that beautiful body as he watched me. The voice on the other end was professional, giving me a name I didn’t know from the hospital more than an hour away. “Yes,” I answered when asked if I was who I was supposed to be. “That’s me.” Then came the news I’d dreaded for ten years. The news everyone in my position always dreaded and went
on dreading until they were in the ground. “Of course. Yes. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you.”

  I closed my eyes, breathing in and out, only then realizing the firestorm of drama I’d be in if Johnny asked for details. Who was I kidding? Of course, he was going to ask. Despite what had just happened between us, I couldn’t let him know. Not like this.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, standing when I began to search around the living room for my clothes.

  “I…uh…” I shook my head, trying to calm myself, trying to remember my priorities and to put on my game face. Johnny was here. He was right here. My God, this was incredibly stupid, letting him inside my home. If we hadn’t been consumed with lust, if we’d had sex and he’d stayed the night, he’d have woken up in the morning and spotted pictures and items, and he would have had a thousand questions. What the hell was I thinking? Ah. That’s right. I hadn’t been thinking much at all.

  “Not really, no,” I said, slipping on my skirt and tugging on my shirt. “I…uh…I’m the next of kin for a friend of mine. That was the Ellenville Hospital. They’ve been brought in, and I’ve got to go.”

  “Ellenville?” He blinked at me, recovering quickly when I didn’t elaborate, and then shrugged. “I’ll take you,” he said, like it was a statement, not an offer.

  “No.” I stopped him when he opened his mouth to argue.

  “Sammy, that’s a two-hour car ride.”

  “I’m aware, Johnny. I’ve driven it before. I don’t need a ride.” Johnny looked to the disarray of clothes, to the pillows and cushions disrupted by what we’d been doing and then shook his head as though he couldn’t believe I was dismissing him so easily. “Please,” I told him, hoping that my tone made him understand. “This is…personal. I can’t have you there.”

  “I’m not…” He swung his hand around the room. “This wasn’t personal?”

  “Different kind of personal, Johnny.”