The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

Alessa

 

 

 

 

What if it goes right?

Those were the words that finally snapped the self-control I'd been struggling to hold onto since the whole washing my hair thing.

Because all I'd done was think about all the reasons it was a terrible idea, all the ways it could go down in flames, and who I might hurt along the way. Especially Avi.

I never let myself consider the ways it could go right.

That wasn't my history. Nothing ever went right when men were concerned. When feelings were involved. Mostly because I never had them. Feelings. I figured I wasn't programmed that way, that my mom's choices, that the men she brought into my life at a young age, had warped my ability to connect with them on more than a superficial level, more than a purely sexual level.

The thing was, with Santi, I couldn't deny that they both coexisted, could I? The sexual attraction. And the feelings.

I'd denied it for a while, but eventually it became impossible to even try. There was no denying my respect and interest and affection for the man who was an amazing father, a good provider, a loyal friend, and a loving family member.

I had done the impossible.

I'd caught feelings.

For a man who was nothing but strings I would find myself tangled in.

A single dad.

A brother to the Capo dei Capi.

A friend of my brothers.

But it was too late now.

Yes, there were so many ways it could go wrong.

But what if it went right?

I was willing to see.

The second my lips touched his, a current of need jolted my system, sparked off every last nerve ending.

A low, rumbling noise moved through Santi as his hand grabbed the back of my neck, angling it back as he pressed his lips into mine harder, more demanding.

His body felt rigid against me, straining, struggling to hold onto control.

I'd pieced things together that he hadn't known the touch of a woman for a long time. Possibly years, if the timeline I'd worked out in my head was accurate.

A low whimper moved through me as I pressed more tightly against his body, wanting to push him to the brink, wanting to snap that control of his.

I didn't want it.

I wanted him to lose it.

I wanted him to be every bit as lost in me as I felt in him.

My hands slid across his bare shoulders, down his strong arms, finding the muscles tight, corded, as his finger crushed into the back of my neck. His other hand moved from my jaw, slipping down my shoulder, carefully skirting the still sore, though healed, wound there, sliding below it, then dipping lower, closing over my breast through the frustratingly thick material of the sweater I'd put on since my step-mother wouldn't allow me to wear my usual long-sleeve tees to a holiday dinner.

Similarly frustrated, a growl moved through Santi as his teeth nipped my lower lip, and his hand moved down my belly to slide under my sweater, moving up to squeeze my breast over the cup of my bra before slipping under, palm tightening almost to the point of pain when his skin met mine.

I arched back slightly, pushing my breast against his palm for a moment before his thumb found my nipple, gently working it into a tightened bud before rolling it between his two fingers, pinching hard enough for a gasp to escape me, allowing his tongue to slip into my mouth, claiming mine.

His tongue teased mine for a long moment before retreating.

With a frustrated growl, his lips ripped from mine completely as his hands grabbed me at my sides right near my breasts, sinking in, and lifting me up and off my feet, settling me on the counter.

He reached for the hem of my sweater, pulling it up, easing it off my recovering side, then yanking it up and off all the way. Finished, his hands slid around my back, fumbling charmingly with my bra hooks for a moment before getting them free, then sliding the straps off my shoulders.

I barely got a second to feel the cool air prickling over my skin before Santi was lowering down, sealing his lips over my hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth, making desire spread from the sensation and down my stomach, pooling between my spread thighs, making a moan coarse through me as his other hand moved up, closing over my other breast, teasing it with his fingers as his tongue circled, as his teeth nipped.

"Santi," I whimpered, the need a sharp, hot, relentless thing, demanding release.

On a rumbling sound, his head lifted.

His hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me back, lowering me flat against the cold countertop.

He towered over me, this gorgeous god of a man with heavy-lidded dark eyes that burned hot with desire for me as he looked down at me for a long moment before lowering again, sealing his lips over my other breast as his hand roamed, sliding up between my breasts, down my belly, up my side near my ribs.

Like he couldn't get enough of the feel of me.

Like he wanted to learn every inch of me.

My thighs slid impatiently against the sides of his body, my hips writhing.

On a groan, Santi's lips left my breast, his face sliding between, his tongue tracing a delicious line under each breast, then down the center of my stomach until he met the waistband of my leggings.

With a breath that shook through him, he lifted up, his gaze sliding to mine again as he gently ease my pants and panties over my hips, then down my thighs.

Tossing them to the side, he reached for my knees, fingers just sinking in there for a second.

His breath was hard and quick, his need as demanding as my own.

His hands started to pull my thighs apart, spreading them wide against the counter.

A growl moved through him as his gaze slipped from my face to between my thighs.

Santi's hand moved up, his fingers tracing up my slick cleft, finding my clit, then circling it. His gaze shot up as a groan escaped me. His gaze on mine, his finger circled my clit again, then again, enjoying watching himself drive me up.

Slowly.

So torturously slow.

On a frustrated whimper, I grabbed his hand, turning it, sliding it down until two of his fingers pressed against the entrance to my body.

His fingers tapped there for a long moment, making my muscles tense and my fingernails dig into his wrist with the need to feel him inside me.

Then, when I felt like I couldn't take another moment, his fingers thrust inside me, getting a choked moan out of me. The sound was drowned out by the rumbling approval that moved through Santi's chest as my walls tightened around his fingers, as he imagined himself buried inside.

My hips rocked impatiently until his fingers started to thrust. Lazily at first, then faster, harder, twisting, curling, then rubbing over my top wall as he dropped down, sucking my clit into his mouth as he continued to finger me, getting faster and faster, driving me higher and higher.

"Santi," I cried, my hands buried in his hair as he licked and sucked and thrust me toward the edge. He made a humming sound of approval at my cries, the vibration sending me flying over that edge, free falling, then crashing hard, a choked moan moving through me as my body jerked, as my hand left his hair to slap down hard on the counter as the waves kept crashing and crashing.

I'd barely recovered when my eyes opened again, seeing Santi leaning over me, his hand fisted on the counter, his entire body tight, practically vibrating with his own need for release.

Reaching out, I grabbed his wrist and shoulder, easing myself upright, sealing my lips to his again.

His arms went around me, pulling me close even as I inched forward until I pushed off the counter.

As soon as my feet were on the ground, I turned us, pushing him back against the island as my hand moved between us. My fingers traced the hard length of him straining against the thin material of his pajama pants. My lips ripped from his, wanting to watch his reaction to my touch.

Impatient, his hand grabbed my wrist, guiding my hand up and then inside his pants.

A shudder coursed through him as my hand closed around his cock without a barrier. A hiss escaped him as my thumb moved across the head before I stroked him to the hilt with one hand while pulling down his pants with the other.

Lowering myself down, I glanced up at him as I guided his cock toward my mouth, my lips curving around his head before my tongue slid over him.

"Fuck," Santi hissed, his hand grabbing the back of my head as I slowly took more of him into my mouth. All of him. My gaze on his the whole time.

His eyes were intense as he watched me, making a flip-flopping sensation kick around in my stomach before I started to work him, driving him up. His hand crushed into my skull as the other gripped the edge of the counter, his hips thrusting restlessly into my mouth.

I could have worked him forever.

But his fingers curled into my hair, dragging me back onto my feet, his lips crashing into mine. Hard, hungry, needy.

And, God, I needed him too.

It was a clawing ache between my thighs that was impossible to ignore, impossible to satisfy until I felt him buried inside me.

Kissing him back, my hand went to the side, groping across the counter to try to find my clutch, fumbling with the clasp with clumsy fingers before finding the condom foil.

Reaching for his hand, I pressed it into his palm as my lips ripped from his, moving down his jaw, then the side of his neck instead, occupying myself while he slid on the condom before reaching for me again, pulling me backward to look down at me as he lifted me back up onto the counter.

My legs dangled for a moment before lifting, wrapping around him as I arched my hips toward him.

His gaze on me, Santi reached between us, grabbed his cock, slid it up my slick cleft, then tapped the heavy length of him against my clit until I was whimpering and writhing once again.

Only then did he slip his cock back down, then press inside of me.

Slow.

So achingly slow.

I felt every inch of him stretching me as he felt my walls tightening around him.

I swear we both nearly came right then and there before Santi shook his head for a second, gaining back his control as he started to thrust inside of me, slow and steady at first. Then gaining in momentum.

Until, suddenly, he pulled out of me.

A loud whine escaped me, making a small smile tease at his lips as he pulled me down off the counter, turning me until my back was against him, then slamming back inside me as he leaned back against the counter. His arm anchored around my belly as my head leaned back against his shoulder, eyes closing for a moment to enjoy the new sensation before the need overtook me completely again.

Santi stayed completely still for a moment as my hips started to move in slow circles, as I drove myself back up.

Only when I was whimpering and moaning again did he start to thrust into me as his other hand slid up my leg, slipped between my thighs, started to work my clit as he fucked me faster and faster.

"Come, Alessa," he growled in my ear, a rough, savage sound as he fucked me faster still, as his finger applied more pressure to my clit.

And just like that, I did.

Crying out his name.

If it weren't for the arm anchored around my stomach, I was pretty sure I would have slid right to the ground with the sudden weakness of my thighs.

"Fuck, Alessa," Santi growled, thrusting harder into me as my walls clenched around him. "Oh...fuck," he hissed as he slammed deep, his body shuddering as he came.

I was pretty sure we both shook in the aftermath for a long moment, our hearts slamming, our minds and bodies so overwrought with pleasure that it was impossible to think, let alone move.

"Baby," he murmured, his hand grabbing my jaw, turning it, turning me just enough so he could seal his lips over mine.

His lips weren't hard or hungry.

They were soft, sweet, deep, passionate.

Trying to communicate something.

And something within me recognized it, responded, as I turned fully, my arms going around his neck, pressing my body to his as a warm sensation flooded my chest.

After, I pressed my head into his neck for a long moment before I realized that the sweat was starting to dry, making the cool spread over my body.

"Hey, Santi?" I called.

"Yeah?" he asked, seemingly half distracted by sifting his fingers through my hair.

"We're both naked."

"Mmmhmm."

"In the kitchen," I added, lips curving up.

"Yeah," he agreed.

With a small chuckle, I arched my head up to look at his face.

"What if Avi wants a drink?" I asked, making his eyes widen a bit as a laugh moved through me.

"Right," he said, pulling suddenly away, leaning down, and scooping me right off my feet.

I'd never been carried by a man before. Not like that. Not cradled to his chest like something important, like someone special.

I felt a strange sensation then. It was something like a squeezing in my chest as I rested the side of my face against his warm skin, as my eyes closed to really soak in the feeling as we moved through the living room, down the hall, then into the master bedroom where he lowered me down on his fancy sheets.

He pressed a kiss to my lips, short, but sweet, before pulling fully away.

"One minute," he demanded, moving around the bed toward the master bath.

Did I watch that amazing ass of his while he walked away?

Damn straight, I did.

But then he was behind a closed door, and I was shuffling up and under the blankets, feeling more exposed than was normal for me.

I'd never been someone uncomfortable with their nudity. Especially toward someone who'd already seen me naked, had enjoyed my body with me.

But there was a strange sort of vulnerability coursing through me right then. It was a tender thing, something I knew would hurt if pressed too hard, if not treated with the utmost care.

The thing was, that made no sense.

I was not the 'with utmost care' kind of woman.

But, still, there seemed no denying it.

Which was why I pulled the blankets up to my neck and curled carefully on my side, facing away from his side of the bed, wondering if maybe the smartest thing to do would be go back to my room, put some space between Santi and me and the strange cocktail of emotions moving through me right then.

I heard the water cut off in the bathroom, heard the door slide, then close with a quiet click.

I couldn't hear him, but rather somehow felt him move to the bed.

Grabbing the covers, he slid under.

I was sure the uncertainty and anxiety in that moment would send me fleeing from the room.

That is until Santi closed the distance, slid in behind me, legs cocked up under mine, face in my neck, arm draping gently over me.

"Don't think," he demanded, voice low. "Just let it be," he added, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.

"Okay," I agreed, closing my eyes tight, letting myself really feel him, get lost in the moment. I wanted to let myself feel what I was feeling instead of trying to analyze it.

And what I was feeling was something new and foreign to me.

It was safety and comfort and affection found in a man.

Which was both amazing and terrifying.

But he was right.

I wasn't going to think.

I was just going to feel.

And all I felt was warmth and affection.

So I felt that.

I went to sleep feeling that.

And I woke up feeling that, Santi's lips pressing into my shoulder.

Until his phone started to scream from the nightstand.

A grumble moved through him since he clearly had other plans. But Family business was Family business. You couldn't just ignore your phone. So he rolled away from me, grabbing his phone. "Yeah? What? You're sure?" he asked, sitting up, then off the side of the bed.

Sensing a shift in the air, I folded up to sit against the headboard, watching his back as he listened to, I imagine, his brother.

"No. No, I want to. I understand. Yeah, no. I have to. Okay. Right. I just need ten. Thanks."

"Duty calls?" I asked, ignoring the disappointment in my stomach.

Santi sucked in a slow, deep breath, turning to face me.

"They found them," I explained.

"Found who?" I asked, brows furrowing.

"The guys who shot you," he told me, yanking the ground out from under me. "And killed Brit," he added.

There was a darkness in his face I'd never seen there before, that I didn't exactly like seeing there now.

"Santi..."

"Brio and I are rolling out in a few."

"Santi, you don't have to do it," I said, shaking my head.

Because I knew what was happening. There was only one punishment for raising a hand, let alone a gun, to the loved ones that belonged to one of the Families.

A bullet to the head.

And as much as I believed to my core that, sometimes, killing had to happen, I also knew that Santi was new to the lifestyle, hadn't been around the uglier aspects of it since he was a kid.

Killing was a big deal to normal people. And Santi had been normal until just six or so weeks before.

"Yeah," he said, voice firm, "I do. For Avi and what he's lost. And for you. And what you could have lost," he told me.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his wrist. "I don't want you killing someone for me. I understand if you need to do it for Brit. But not me."

To that, he gave me a soft smile, pressing his hand to my cheek.

"It has to be done," he told me. "And it has to be me," he added.

"Okay," I agreed, taking a deep breath. "I get it," I added.

Maybe it should have been a bigger deal to me. But that being said, I'd been with the Morellis for long enough to have helped discard the bloody clothing and guns used in hits. I understood that some people screwed up too badly to come back from. I knew that the men I loved and respected and believed were ultimately good sometimes had to do ugly, wicked things. It didn't change how I felt about them. And this wouldn't change how I felt about Santi either.

Ultimately, he'd been pushed back into the Family by the wicked deeds of evil men, ones who took out innocents. If it were not for some bastard picking up a gun and stealing Avi's mom from him, Santi never would have felt the urge to pick up one himself.

This life was pushed on him.

No one would blame him.

Least of all me.

"Baby," Santi called, snapping me out of my wandering thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"You might want to get back into your room," he said, going into his dresser to grab me a tee, handing it to me to slip on. "Don't get me wrong," he added, misreading me. "I want you here," he told me. "I want you here a fuckuva lot in the future. But Avi..."

"No, no. I agree," I said, nodding as I slipped into the tee, then climbed out of the bed. "Let's keep it between us," I said. "For now anyway," I added at the dark look that crossed his face.

"Yeah, for now," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple before giving my ass a little pat as I turned to walk away.

Sticking my head out of the door, I made sure Avi's door was still closed before shooting across the hall.

It wasn't half a minute later that there was a quiet knock at the door, making me rush toward it, thinking Santi wanted to tell me something.

Only it wasn't Santi at my door.

It was Brio.

With a shit-eating grin on his face.

"So, I wasn't sure if maybe you might need this," he said, his arm raising. And there, dangling from his fingertip was my simple black bra.

"You're a child," I declared, reaching out to snatch the bra away, tossing it behind me into the room.

"Hey, man, I'm not the one leaving my delicates around the common room," he said, shrugging. And, damn him, he had a good point.

"Hey," I said, leaning forward, looking past him to make sure Santi wasn't nearby. "I know you're in your element today," I told him. "But this is new for Santi."

"What are you trying to say to me, babe?"

"Watch out for him," I demanded.

"Always," he agreed, nodding. "No need to worry about us."

As it turned out, he was right.

I didn't need to worry about them.

But I guess they should have worried about us...