His Guilt: A Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 6)

by Cassie Wild

  He rolled his eyes but slumped in his seat agreeably. “At least this place serves beer,” he grumbled.

  Within twenty minutes, he was sitting up straighter, munching away determinedly at the popcorn.

  “Man, the mum’s cold, innit she?” he murmured.

  “Ellen?” He laughed and smacked the arm of the chair.

  “Fuck, I knew Jackie would turn out to be a bitch.”

  Once or twice, other people in the audience actually turned to shush him.

  When we left, I gave him a somber look.

  “You’re right,” I said with a straight face. “We should have gone to see that thriller.”

  He came after me and pinned me up against the wall, tickling me until I was begging and pleading for mercy. Then he kissed me, and I was just…ready to beg.

  “Can I come home with you?” he whispered against my mouth.

  “Well, you’ll have to. Your car is in my driveway,” I told him, smiling as I curled my arms around his shoulders.

  A couple of teenaged girls walked by us, giggling.

  There was a time when it would have made me self-conscious.

  But that wasn’t tonight.

  Smiling up into his eyes, I tugged his mouth back down to mine for one last kiss.

  He toyed with my fingers the entire drive home.

  I didn’t know how in the world my body managed to take that as sensual foreplay, but it did. Of course, Cormac had ways of looking at me that felt like foreplay.

  It was the craziest thing. I’d gone through the raging hormones of my late adolescence and all the years that followed without experiencing anything like this, and then he comes into my life, and it’s like I’d turned into a sex kitten.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, voice soft in the quiet, insulating warmth of my car. He drove one-handed, with that same certain confidence that all but exuded from him.

  “Am I smiling?” Without thinking about it, I reached up to touch my lips. I laughed a little. “I’m just thinking about how much my life has changed since I met you.”

  “Yeah?” He slowed for a stop light and looked over at me, brows arched. “How’s that?”

  Self-conscious now, I tried to think of the right way to explain it. “I don’t…I just…” Huffing out a breath, I glared at him. “You just love to dissect everything, don’t you?”

  He didn’t respond, just continued to watch me, even after the light turned green. It wasn’t until a car behind us honked that he looked away from me.

  “I’m just curious.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want.”

  Grumbling under my breath, I squirmed in my seat. “It’s not that. It’s just…hell. I’m private. I’m not used to having people asking questions and stuff. It’s not that big a deal. I just…” Waving a hand through the air, I gestured at the darkness outside the car. “It’s getting late. A couple of months ago, before I met you, this time of day, I’d be wrapped up in a good book, drinking a glass of wine…maybe cleaning up the kitchen after I decided to try out a new recipe.”

  “I didn’t know you liked to cook,” he said.

  “I do, but it’s boring when you’re cooking for one.” I made a face. “At least I think so. Sometimes, I’ll see a dish and decide to try it out, but it’s not often. Usually, I just stick to the basics or call for delivery, that sort of thing.” Now that the words were out there, it sounded kind of…lonely.

  Not all of it. I mean, there were few things I prized more than a few hours alone with a book and a glass of wine.

  But…yeah. I did enjoy cooking. My mom had been teaching me for a while. Then she died. I’d done it for a while on my own, but it hadn’t been the same. Dad and my brothers…and me, we’d all been so lost without her, and try as I might, I couldn’t fill her shoes.

  After a while, I just stopped.

  It wasn’t until I’d been living on my own in my own home that I’d actually started even messing with it again. But it hadn’t brought me the same sort of pleasure it had when I’d been younger.

  Because it had been empty.

  “I made you sad.”

  I shot Cormac a quick glance. “No. Not you. Not specifically.” I tightened my fingers around his. “I was just thinking. I don’t much enjoy cooking anymore. But I used to. Mom was teaching me. Then she died. And…” I shrugged. “It’s not the same.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he lifted the back of my hand to his lips and kissed my skin. “I’m trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a sexist tool. I don’t know if it will work or not. But if you want, you can cook for me.”

  “Thanks.” A laugh gurgled out of me.

  He slid me a sly look. “And I’d love it if you did it naked.”

  “No.” With a snort, I pulled my hand back. “No way. Splatters. Spills. Those are sensitive parts you want exposed.”

  “Ah. Yes, yes, you’re right.” He bobbed his eyebrows. “You could serve me naked instead.”

  Grinning now, I told him, “Hey, I cook. If I cook, I don’t serve or clean up.”

  He grumbled under his breath, but I caught sight of the smile.

  Cormac lowered me to the bed.

  We’d barely made it into the house before his hands were on me, his mouth.

  I couldn’t say anything though.

  I’d been the same, tracing my fingers along his lower back underneath his shirt as we walked up the driveway.

  He’d hissed, complaining about the cold, then complaining when I stopped.

  He pushed his hands under my sweater, and now it was my turn to complain about the cold—specifically his hands. He cocked a brow at me. “Want me to stop?”

  I grabbed his hands and guided them back to my breasts. “Not on your life,” I told him.

  He came down between my thighs. I brought my knees up, bracketing and squeezing my legs around him with a groan. He cupped my butt in his hands and hitched me up, bringing me in even closer. “You’re always so hot, always so soft,” he muttered against my lips.

  “You’re not.”

  He smiled against my mouth before slowly lifting up to peer down at me. “You don’t think I’m hot?”

  His voice had gone rough and low, his accent thicker and heavier, and if my knees hadn’t already gone to mush, that would have done it. “I’m not talking about hot,” I said, wiggling underneath him. I slid a hand between us, feeling braver than I usually did. “I’m talking about this…”

  I cupped him through his jeans, but that wasn’t good enough, so I worked at the button of his jeans, then the zipper and finally managed to free him, sliding my hand past the denim and cotton of his shorts so I could wrap my fingers around his cock. “You’re definitely not soft here.”

  He groaned and pushed into my hand.

  “No. Definitely not. And if you keep that up, I’ll get even harder.” He covered my hand with his. “Fuck, that’s good.”

  But after a few seconds, he pulled my hand away, then caught my other wrist and pushed upward, guiding my arms up over my head.

  “We going to do something kinky?” I teased him.

  “Don’t push me.” He bit my lower lip gently. “I’ve a mind to seduce you, but if you go talking like that…”

  “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

  He tapped his finger against my lips. “Hush.”

  I laughed.

  The sound caught in my throat as he pushed my shirt farther up, then kissed my navel, the brush of his mouth a soft, barely-there caress. I reached down to catch his head in my hands, but he evaded my grasp and guided my arms back over my head before doing anything else.

  “Seduction…remember?”

  I’d never been seduced. Not really.

  Of the few guys I’d been with, one or two had probably tried, but it had been nothing like this. Soft but certain touches, all designed to make me melt. By the time he had us both naked, I’d practically turned liquid, s
eeping into the quilt, so warm, so filled with lassitude, it was hard to even move. But at the same time, a fiery kernel of hunger pulsed within, and I was panting, squirming on the mattress as he kissed a trail down one thigh, the inside of my knee, all the way down to my ankle before moving over to my other leg and starting his path back up.

  When he reached the apex of my thighs, I moaned and arched up, lifting myself toward him.

  He blew a puff of air against me, and the sensation was almost painful, I was so sensitive. He muttered something just before pressing his mouth to me. I had no idea what he said, and I didn’t care.

  Nothing mattered but the hot, wet lash of his tongue against my clit.

  I jolted up off the bed and cried out, reaching for him once more.

  This time, he didn’t stop me as I shoved my hands into his hair and pressed myself more completely against him. He made a low, hungry sound and pushed his fingers inside me.

  One stroke, two…he curled his fingers within me, then twisted them and scissored—

  Just like that, I went flying over, a broken moan escaping me.

  He slid up my body while I was still shuddering from the orgasm and pushed inside me

  Dazed, I stared up at him.

  “You’re like a fuckin’ fist,” he rasped just before slamming his mouth down on mine. He gave me one rough kiss that stole my breath before settling back in that slow, easy pace he’d set for himself, the one that threatened to drive me mad.

  “Please, Cormac,” I demanded. “Please.”

  But he didn’t change his rhythm. He did slide a hand under my butt, tucking me more firmly against him as he filled me with deep, hard, slow thrusts that I felt throughout my entire body.

  His eyes glittered as he stared down at me, a starkly possessive look that might have rattled me if it was anybody other than Cormac watching me so.

  I caught him around the neck and tugged his mouth to mine. “Come here,” I said, insistent.

  He resisted at first, but finally lowered his head.

  I kissed him, hungry, dying for him.

  He growled against my lips before opening for me. I bit his lip, the way he often did mine, and he bucked, then shuddered before going rigid. His entire body stiffened, then he swore and began to slam into me, each thrust harder than the last.

  I moaned into his mouth, the next orgasm already moving in on me. My mind started to go dark with delight and desire.

  He palmed one of my breasts and tugged on my nipple, squeezing just a little. At the same time, he sucked my tongue deeper into his mouth, and I lost it.

  I didn’t know how much time passed.

  I knew I dozed a little.

  I came awake to find him studying me in the dim light.

  I stretched, then smiled back at him. “Let me guess,” I said, refusing to let my disappointment show. “You’ve got to go.”

  “Actually…” he shrugged. “I was wondering if I could stay the night, if it’s alright with you.”

  I arched a brow. He’d never asked before. He’d fallen asleep here several times, but I’d always gotten the impression it was an accident, and one he wasn’t happy about.

  “You’re more than welcome to,” I told him, reaching up to press my finger into the dent in his chin.

  He caught my hand in his, kissed my palm, then twined our fingers together. I wiggled in closer, turning my head so I could look out the window. A silvery light slanted in, and I sighed. “It’s snowing. Again.”

  He grumbled. “I noticed. I could go without the whole white Christmas thing.”

  “You really don’t like the cold.” I kissed his shoulder, then pushed up onto my elbow to study him. “What are you doing for Christmas?’

  “Not a thing.” He shrugged, his face a study in indifference. His gaze slid from my face toward the window, and he focused on the falling snow. “I guess you’ll be with your dad and brothers?”

  “Yeah.” I think he tried to hide it, but there was something…lonely in his voice. Wiggling even closer, I cupped his cheek and guided his face around until he was looking back at me. Smiling, I asked, “Why don’t you spend it with me?”

  “With you?” Brow knit into a frown, he eyed me. “Aren’t you spending it with your family?”

  “Well, I have to work Christmas Day. It’s been a thing for me the past few years, so we’ve sort of developed a new tradition. We celebrate on Christmas Eve. Sometimes, if we can, we do dinner together Christmas night, but it’s not always doable. So far, we’re just getting together Christmas Eve. You can come with us…then spend Christmas Day with me.”

  “Ah, no. No.” He shook his head. “It’s Christmas, and that’s your family. I couldn’t do that.”

  “But I want you to!” I didn’t know how to play the flirtatious female, but I tried, fixing a hopeful look on my face and smiling at him. “C’mon. Please?”

  After a little more wheedling, he heaved out a sigh. “Alright, fine. I’ll come. But it’s not my fault if I embarrass you. And I can’t really go out and buy them presents or anything. I don’t even know them.”

  “That’s fine. Oh! We’re having brunch in a few days. I want you to come to that too.”

  He gave me a look of horror. “Brunch? What for?”

  “It’s brunch, silly.”

  He stared at me like he’d never heard of such a thing.

  I sighed and shook my head. “It’s food, Cormac. You like food. Just say you’ll come.”

  “Do I have to dress up?”

  “No.” I beamed at him. “It’s nothing fancy. Daria’s cooking, actually. Dad usually gives all the employees the week between Christmas Eve and the day after New Year’s off. Which means I’ll have to help with clean-up.” Rolling my eyes, I added, “You can help too.”

  “I’m an ace at washing dishes.” He stroked a finger across my knee. “What do you mean, he gives all the employees the week off? Nobody there to help cook Christmas dinner?”

  “Nope. Mom always insisted that they all have time with family over the holidays.” I shrugged. “She even made him do it with the family businesses. They all get the time off with pay. Even after she…” I sighed before continuing, “Well, even with her gone, he keeps it up. Says it’s his Christmas gift to her, even though Declan’s told him it costs a lot of money to keep doing it. Dad says there are things more important than money sometimes.”

  “Not often you hear a rich man saying that,” Cormac murmured. He took my hand and laced our fingers together. “Do I have to bring anything?”

  “No. Just come.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Alright, brunch then. As long as I don’t have to dress up or bring anything wi’ me.”

  “Nope.” Happy now, I cuddled back by his side and stared outside again. “Just bring you. That’s all I want.”

  As the words faded into the night, it hit me, just how much I meant those words.

  I did want him.

  In so many different ways.

  Fourteen

  Cormac

  The bed shifted, but it wasn’t that faint movement that woke me.

  It was the sudden absence of Briar’s warmth that penetrated the fog of sleep and had me stirring in the bed. I rolled onto my side and peered through the darkness to see her naked back just before she disappeared through the bathroom and shut the door.

  A thin strip of light appeared, brilliant in the shroud of darkness.

  Squinting against it, I rolled onto my back until my eyes adjusted.

  I heard the shower come on, and I rubbed at my lids until the sleep cleared. I was so damn tired. It was the kind of exhaustion that stemmed from something deeper than a need for sleep. All this shit I was dealing with, and now, knowing I was running out of time with Marcos…and the woman of my dreams.

  Groaning, I pinched the bridge of my nose as the weight of everything bore down on me.

  Stop brooding and think.

  With the sound of her in the room next door, so close, it didn’t make
it any easier for me to think, but I centered my thoughts and began to plan.

  By the time the door opened, I had the first part of my day planned out and was thinking about seeing if I can do a repeat of the previous night as she started toward the bed.

  Briar rested her hip on the mattress next to me, bending over to peer into my eyes.

  “I’m awake,” I said. My eyes were more adjusted to the darkness than hers after she’d spent so much time in the brightly lit bathroom.

  She blinked rapidly, trying to get her eyes to adjust.

  From the corner of my hand, I saw her reaching up. Catching her hand, I guided it to my cheek.

  “Hey,” she murmured.

  “Hey, back.” Rubbing the ends of her hair between my fingers, I asked, “What do you think about the two of us grabbing dinner tonight?”

  “I think it’s a grand idea.” In the darkness, I could see a smile on her face. It faded fast, though, and she heaved out a sigh. “But I’m stuck working doubles the next two days so I can have Friday and Saturday off. Don’t forget I have to work on Christmas.”

  “Still on for Christmas Eve?”

  “Yes.” She gave me an arch look. “And for Christmas evening, I thought we could bunker down in the house…you, me…a bunch of movies, some booze. What do you think?”

  “I think I like that plan.”

  She bent low, and either her eyes had adjusted to the dark, or she had excellent aim because she managed to find my mouth unerringly, pressing her lips to mine.

  “Guess you’ll have a busy few days,” I said as she pulled away.

  “Beyond.” She sighed and kissed me once more. “There’s a spare key hanging on a hook by the phone near my fridge. Why don’t you grab it and use it to lock up?”

  She was off the bed in the next second. I smiled at her, but she was already striding out the door.

  Left in the quiet dark of the room, I closed my eyes.