The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

Alessa

 

 

 

 

I loved them.

It was a pretty immediate and overwhelming realization.

But when I walked through the door of that apartment, and Avi flung himself into my arms, knocking me back into his father's arms, it was a sensation that rocked my system, the intensity of love that I had for them.

It felt too soon to care so much.

I was not someone who loved easily.

It took me years to realize I loved my half-brothers and father and step-mother.

And, well, I'd never loved anyone else.

So it seemed impossible to love these people I'd only known for a couple months.

Maybe, though, I was quicker to love them because I lived with them day in and day out. I got to not only love the surface stuff, but everything else as well.

Like how both Santi and Avi did the same little stretch as they stood up from the dinner table. Or how fervently Avi said his prayers before bed, making sure he said one for his closest loved ones. Or how Santi always brought me a cup of coffee if he was getting himself one.

I think it was easy to love Avi.

He was an all-around good kid. Funny, loving, adventurous, and sweet. It made sense to love him.

But Santi?

I'd never known anything even close to love for a man before.

God, if I were being completely honest, I'd never really even liked one much before. Sure, I'd like some enough to have a few drinks, maybe a meal, then some time between the sheets. But as soon as the sweat was dry, I started noticing all the shit about them that bothered me. From the way they chewed their food or didn't keep their fingernails clean and trim or how they pronounced certain words or had some asinine little catchphrase that they thought made them cute and unforgettable, but just made me hate them a little bit.

I was really, really good at finding reasons not to love a man.

But I couldn't come up with a single one not to love Santi.

Yes, I was sure that over time, I would find things about him that irritated me, but I couldn't imagine it would be anything big, anything that could change the strange squeezing sensation I felt in my chest when I was around him. Hell, even when I just thought about him.

I loved him.

And I loved his kid.

And I loved the idea of being a little family.

I just had no idea what to do with that information.

So I said nothing.

Not that afternoon as I comforted Avi, assured him I was okay, let him make me tea, or as I talked with Salvatore, then helped him change his wound dressings.

It wasn't too soon to feel what I felt, but it seemed too soon to say it.

"He said a prayer for Isabella," I said as I walked out of Avi's room after sitting with him until he fell asleep. I pressed a hand to my chest. "He's got a huge heart."

We hadn't told him that Isabella had been forced into a loveless arranged marriage with a monster in men's clothing. But we did tell him she had to go away for a while, and was sad about it. And he'd taken it upon himself to pray that she got happy again.

The kid was practically an angel.

I could barely remember to say a nice thing in my head for people, and there he was, praying for the joy of all his loved ones when he knew they were in a dark place.

"He does," Santi agreed, reaching for my waist, pulling me across the hall toward him, then into his arms.

And the man held me.

He just held me.

Without roaming hands.

Without sealing his lips over mine.

Without any sort of expectation at all.

He just held me.

I was not, as a rule, a woman who cried.

But there was no denying the tears that welled up in my eyes at that moment. Unbidden, unwanted, and utterly confusing.

It had been a long day, that was all.

"Hey, what's this?" Santi asked, pulling back, frowning down at me when a humiliating sniffle escaped me and a traitorous tear slipped down my cheek.

"It's been... a day," I declared, feeling a strange flip-flopping sensation in my stomach when his hand lifted to frame my face, his thumb moving out to wipe the tear away.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You want to end it?" he asked, making relief rush through my system when I realized he wasn't going to harp on the fact that I was having a, you know, emotional moment.

"God, yes," I said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically.

"Come on," Santi said, pressing a hand to my lower back to lead me into his room, closing the door behind us. "So, what do you need?" he asked. "A bath? Sleep?"

"You," I decided, turning, and reaching up to grab the back of his neck.

"Well, you can have that," he told me with a wicked grin before I sealed my lips to his.

It all fell away in that moment.

All the fear, the stress, the uncertainty, the anger, the outrage, the worry for the future of a woman I barely knew. All the concerns about Salvatore's wounds he adamantly refused to get looked at by a professional. All the insecurity I had about starting to have feelings for a man.

It was all gone by the time Santi's arms went around me, pulling me up on my tiptoes, and holding me tightly against his chest.

We kissed like reassurance for a long moment, like we were communicating all the things we couldn't find the words to say.

But it wasn't long before desire started to spark through my system.

My hands got greedy then, moving over his shoulders, down his sides, finding the buttons for his shirt, and working them free as a rumble moved through his chest, and his tongue slipped between my lips.

Finished, I grabbed the sides of his shirt and jacket, pushing them off his shoulders, letting them pool down at his feet, before my hands were on him again, this time without the barrier.

His own hands started exploring too, down my sides, my back, then sinking into my ass, dragging me up on my tiptoes by it, pulling me more tightly against him. And as my pelvis met his, I could feel his hardness straining against his pants, as evident as the wetness between my thighs.

"Santi," I whimpered, wiggling against him.

On a primal growl, his lips ripped from mine.

There was nothing slow or careful or controlled about his motions as he grabbed my shirt, yanking it up, and tossing it to the side. His hands moved down my ribs, then snagged the waistbands of my pants and panties, dragging them down as he lowered to his knees in front of me, helping my feet out of my pants.

Finished, his hand grabbed my knee, yanking it up, spreading it out, opening me to him.

Before I could even feel anticipation shiver across my nerve endings, his mouth was on me, his lips sucking on my clit for a long moment before his tongue started to work me in slow, teasing circles, driving me up as slowly as possible.

My thighs started to shake at the need for release, something Santi seemed to notice, making his mouth move from me.

"No," I whimpered, trying to grab the back of his head.

But there was no use. He got back onto his feet, grabbing my waist, lifting, and tossing me back onto the bed.

Before I could even catch my breath, he was over me again, spreading my thighs wide for him, and moving between. Licking. Sucking. Then thrusting two fingers inside me, moving lazily.

An impatient whimper escaped me as my hips writhed up against his mouth, begging for more.

But Santi wasn't in the giving mood right that moment.

He pulled away, sitting back on his knees, grabbing me, and turning me onto my belly, sliding his flattened palms up the backs of my thighs, my ass, and up my spine until finally finding the band of my bra, working the clasps free.

Reaching for my shoulders, he grabbed and pulled until I had no choice but to plant my hands and push up off the mattress, my bra straps falling down my arms.

Santi kept pulling until I folded up, going up on my knees, and pressing back against his chest.

His hands slid up my belly, cupping my breasts, then grabbing their peaks between his fingers, rolling, twisting, pinching.

Reaching up, I grabbed his wrist, guiding it downward, slipping it between my thighs. Two fingers pressed inside me, making my head fall back on his shoulder with a ragged moan.

"Fuck," Santi hissed as my walls tightened around his fingers as he drove me upward.

"Fuck me," I demanded, voice rough as I wiggled my ass against his hardness.

"I can't," he said, sounding defeated.

"Why?" I asked, heart dropping, immediately expecting the worst case scenario.

"I never stopped to grab protection," he said, fingers curling inside me, stroking over my top wall.

I didn't have any either.

I was a strict protection-only type of girl.

"I'm on the Pill," I told him. And I've never..." I started, breaking off on a moan as his fingers found my G-spot. "I've never had sex without protection," I told him, hips rocking against his palm, engaging my clit.

"I've only ever been with you and..." he trailed off, not wanting to say someone else's name in bed with me. "But we can wait," he offered, even though I could hear the need in his voice.

"No," I said, reaching behind me to undo his button and zipper, then reaching in to pull out his cock. "I need you inside me," I told him, stroking him once then folding forward onto all fours, spreading my knees a bit, letting him watch as he finger-fucked me with a ragged groan for a moment before his fingers pulled out of me.

Santi's hands sank into my hips, grabbing me, turning me, then pushing me flat against the mattress. He reached for my ankles, dragging them up onto his shoulder as he leaned forward, stroking his cock up my sex to tap against my clit until I was wiggling and panting for him again.

"Please, Santi," I whimpered.

His dark gaze on me, his cock slammed forward, settled deep. A curse escaped him as my walls tightened hard around him.

"Santi," I groaned as my hips started to move in slow circles, needing relief from the ache in my lower stomach.

He lost every last bit of control then.

His arms anchored around my thighs, holding my legs to his chest as he started to fuck me.

Hard.

Fast.

Unrelenting.

Driving me up and through an orgasm before I could fully comprehend how close it was.

"Fuck," Santi cursed as my walls squeezed his cock.

He wasn't done with me yet, though.

His arms released my thighs, grabbing my knees instead, pressing them into my chest, hard enough that drawing a breath became more difficult as he started to fuck me again, somehow harder and faster than before.

One of his hands slipped between my thighs, engaging my clit, driving me up.

"Come," he said, voice rough, close himself. "Come," he demanded as his finger swiped just right, sending me crashing down into my orgasm, milking his from him as he slammed deep, his body jerking as he came with my name on his lips.

I don't know how long we sat there afterward, both recovering. But it was Santi who managed to find words first.

"I want to wash the day away," he said, tracing a finger down the side of my thigh. "Want to join me?" he asked, giving me a soft, sleepy smile.

I wanted to join him in everything he did.

That was a realization that made my heart skitter in my chest.

"What?" he asked, brows lowering at what must have been a panicked look on my face.

"Are we just having sex?" I blurted out. Because I needed to know. Because I was going to drive myself crazy if I didn't ask.

"No." He hadn't even paused. "Not even close to just sex," he said. "At least not for me."

"I, ah, I'm sure this isn't a surprise to you, but, well, I've never really done the whole, you know, relationship thing. So, I have no idea what I'm doing. Figured I'd give you that warning."

To that, he gave me a soft smile. "What, exactly, do you think a relationship is?" he asked, letting out a small chuckle. "It's really just... what we've been doing so far. Plus a lot more of this," he added, waving toward our naked bodies.

"But we can't tell Avi," I said. "Not for a while anyway."

"I'm sorry we..."

"Don't," I cut him off. "Don't apologize. It's fine. And I totally understand."

"He already loves you," Santi said, making my heart squeeze.

"I love him back." And you I added silently because it was way too soon to say it out loud. "And I don't want there to be any rush for him to be okay with seeing you with someone. There's no reason we can't go on like this for however long he needs. The kid sleeps like a rock. And you can wake me up and scoot me into the back room when you get up for work in the morning."

"I don't like having to hide," he clarified, moving away from me, then reaching for my hand to pull me up as well. "I don't want you to think that I want to keep it a secret."

"It's really, ah, not a secret," I said, following him into the bathroom, into the shower stall.

"What?"

"Well, um, Salvatore and Brio knew even before the meeting. Brio handed me back my bra after we did it in the kitchen," I told him. "And, ah, Salvatore wiped down the surfaces. Primo somehow knew. And then after that meeting..." I said, trailing off, waving a hand.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"I think it might be smart to just... put the word out that we need to keep our lips sealed about it for a while," I told him, selfishly moving under the water when it got warm enough. "Just for Avi's sake."

"Yeah," Santi agreed, moving forward, wrapping his arms around me.

"Are you trying to be closer to me, or the hot water?" I asked, smirking up at him.

"A little bit of both," he told me, visibly shivering as the water cascaded over his cold skin.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward, resting my head against his chest, sliding my arms around his waist, letting myself hold on. Because, for the first time in my life, I was sure I found something—someone—worth holding onto.

It was, at once, an amazing, yet utterly terrifying sensation.

Because it was something I wanted. He was something I wanted. But he was also something I could lose.

I hadn't really experienced loss before. My mother had never been a mother, so leaving her had been like a sigh of relief. And after that, I never got close to anyone aside from the Morellis, so there had never been any risk for heartbreak.

"Hey, Alessa?" Santi called, seeming to sense the change in me, the uncertainty, the insecurity.

"Yeah?" I asked, closing my eyes as I took a steadying breath.

"What if it goes right?" he asked, making a smile tug at my lips as I leaned up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

Yeah.

What if it went right?

I had no reason to start expecting the worst, like I didn't already know the man inside and out. We'd been living together for months. The man had taken care of me when I was sick, and fretted over me when I was hurt. We'd shared countless meals, had engaged in all sorts of conversations.

It wasn't new-new like most new relationships were new.

Because we'd already put a lot of time into getting to know each other.

"So, are you going to wash me, or what?" I asked, feeling a chuckle rumble through his chest.

"Baby, if I ever turn down that offer, I want you to grab my gun and shoot me," he said, reaching for the soap.

From there, well, things got out of hand.

I mean, we almost tumbled through the glass door kind of out of hand.

I wasn't even entirely sure how we both dried off or got back into bed, we were so exhausted.

But I knew we both ended up there.

And I knew Santi reached for me, pulling me toward his side of the bed, settling me up on his chest, then wrapping his arms around me.

And I knew nothing I'd ever experienced before felt quite as good as being in that man's arms, feeling his breath rising and falling beneath me, and hearing his steady heartbeat against my ear.

After a lifetime of taking care of myself, of priding myself on never needing anything or anyone, I was dangerously close to needing this, needing more of the comfort I felt in his arms, needing him.

It was dangerous.

And scary.

And foreign.

But what if it went right?