Boss (Chianti Kisses #2) (8 page)

~*~

“Who the hell told you to break my door down?!” Theresa scolds me as I do my best to align the wooden object up with the doorjamb. I get it to sit properly in place but the lock is definitely busted.

My ears still hurt from the loud music, although it’s been turned off for a few minutes now. I can’t guarantee that I’m not yelling, as I have no idea how my voice sounds. I’m temporarily deaf.

“It just needs a new lock. I’ll have it replaced for you in the morning.”

“Damn right you will. I have half a mind to call my brother and let him know what you just did!” she threatens.

I laugh. She was always melodramatic.

“Please do. Let him know how it sounded like you were being murdered and I raced in to save your ungrateful little ass.” I move past her to use her kitchen sink to wash my hands of the hinge oil. “You might want to leave out the part about you throwing your naked body at me, though.” I wink at her.

I can hear her start to prepare a comeback, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me react to it. “I did not
throw
myself at you! I was
attacking
you!”

I dry my hands on a nearby dishtowel. “Let me guess, you took a safety-first class for women?” I try to hold in my laughter as I touch the swelling area on my cheek from her feeble attempt at a punch.

The only reason she even got close enough to touch me is because I was too shocked at seeing her naked, gorgeous, womanly body coming toward me. I was mesmerized, searching every curve to compare it to the ones I last remembered.

I left a girl, all those years ago. I’ve come back to a woman.

I shield my grin as best I can, even though I’m itching to steal another look at those curves hidden beneath her bathrobe. I can feel my pants getting tight in the crotch just thinking about it.

“Oh, so now you’re some big tough guy with a gun, huh?” she taunts me.

I turn, resting against the marble of the countertop behind me, throwing the dishtowel aside and crossing my arms. “Is that what you see?”

She scowls. “What I
see
, is a coward. A kid with a perpetual boner who says whatever he needs to say to get a girl to give it up. He’ll lie to her, trick her, use her. And then just when she’s sucked in, ready to give everything to him, he takes off, leaving her with her broken heart thinking that she wasn’t good enough.”

Her words hit hard. They don’t even come close to being true, but I know this is how she sees things, remembers things.

“Is that really what you think? That you weren’t good enough? That you’re not good enough?” I find myself holding my breath as I wait for her answer. How could she think that she wasn’t good enough, when it was me who wasn’t up to par?

She laughs an evil laugh, a hard laugh. “I used to. I used to think that.”

I can see the tiny little vein throbbing in her jaw. I don’t doubt her words. “I know this sounds lame, Theresa. But, you couldn’t have been more wrong. About some of those things, anyway. But, I was a coward.”

I can see she doesn’t trust me. I don’t expect her to.

“Listen, I know it’s too late to explain or apologize, but I’ll be here for a little while, and I just thought I owed it to you to at least….”

“Save it,” she brushes me off with her venom. “I’m not the same girl I was back then. I don’t need to hear your pathetic little words, Carmine. That girl is gone.”

Huh. She’s as stubborn as always.

“Good,” I proclaim. “That girl was kind of a bitch.”

She eyes me in shock. “Now, unless you want to watch me sleep like a stalker chick, I suggest you go to bed.”

I make the initial movements to take my shirt off.

“Wha-what do you think you’re doing?” she exclaims.

I smile, satisfied, as I unbutton myself. “Getting ready for bed, princess. Can’t leave you alone in here if that front door doesn’t lock.” I nod over to the broken wood. “I’ll take the couch.”

She moves to talk, but stops herself. She eyes the door behind us, thinking to herself. I don’t wait for her stamp of approval. No way in hell am I going to let her sleep in this apartment, vulnerable. For Dom, sure, because I know he would expect me to stay and protect his sister, but also for myself. The thought of her being hurt, being in danger, nearly took my heart out of my chest earlier. I can’t risk it happening for real. The least I can do is stay the night.

My collared shirt is draped on a nearby chair and I pull my undershirt up, over my head. I feel her eyes on me. I can’t lie. I like her eyes on me.

“You gonna watch?” I play with her.

I now work on my belt. Once she hears the rattling of the metal buckle, she knows what’s coming next. She snaps to attention.

“Just make sure you’re gone before I wake up.” She stalks off and slams her bedroom door shut.

I plop down hard on the luxurious sofa, facing the front door, gun cocked and ready near me. She’s still as pleasant as always. Miss Congeniality.

Even more surprisingly, it still gets my dick hard.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THERESA

He saw me naked.

I can’t believe he saw me naked.

Back when I wanted him, begged him, to look at my naked body, he repaid the favor by taking off in the middle of the night. Now… all these years later, when I want nothing more than to kick his butt all the way back to Italy, he finally takes a real look at me. And I didn’t even shave my legs.

Aghhh! The smug little look on his lying lips makes me want to smack it off him. Knowing that he’s out there, sleeping on my new sofa, ruining it with his stench, the eau de douche bag cologne he probably buys in bulk, just pisses me off.

I loved that sofa. It’s so comfortable. Do you know how hard it is to find just the right couch? Does he care? Nope. Now I’ll have to burn the damn thing.

Aghhh!

I turn over, furiously, my body full of angst. The pillow is both too hard and too soft at the same time. Nothing seems right in this bed, I can’t get comfortable. Closing my fist tight, I punch the pillow over and over again, trying to mold it to some acceptable shape while taking out my aggression on the innocent bedding.

Now flat on my back, I stare straight ahead at the darker ceiling. I feel my eyes widen as they adjust to the darkness of the room, and I imagine the fury building within me shooting out like lasers into the shadowy sheetrock.

Who the hell does he think he is? Barging in here like some road-raged psycho, carrying a gun… A GUN! My front door is busted, my beautiful and comfy couch is now tainted beyond repair and I can’t fall asleep for anything.

This isn’t fair. I shouldn’t have to see him again. Not now, not ever. Not after what he did to me.

EIGHT YEARS AGO

“There’s no way we’re going to get away with this, Theresa.” V tries in vain to dissuade me from my plan.

It’s taken me over a week to put all of this together. I’m not about to abandon it. As long as everything stays on schedule and we make sure to stick to the plan, we should be fine. Momma,

Nonna and Aunt Rosie will be spending the night in Manhattan tonight, instead of heading home late after the children’s hospital charity event later today.

It was a blessing in disguise when the invitation came. It’s been becoming more and more difficult to steal time away to meet Carmine. The summer’s gone so fast, and we only have a few weeks left together before his trip is over and he heads back across the Atlantic where he’ll be no more than a voice on the telephone until next summer.

I’m pretty sure I’ve thought of everything. V will be spending the night at our house, and will be the perfect cover. She’ll hang out in my room with a movie and a pizza, in case Dom decides to check on us. I doubt he will, but just in case, I’ll conveniently be in the bathroom or indisposed. V is pretty quick, I have no doubt she’ll come up with something believable if she needs to.

It’ll be easier to juggle excuses and think of quick cover stories to dodge one brother at my house rather than three over at hers. As long as she plays the music loud and makes occasional trips to the kitchen for the staff to witness, we should have a rock solid alibi.

“V, relax. It’ll be fine. Compared to the stuff our brothers do, and get away with, this is child’s play.” I try to reassure her when in fact it’s me I’m trying to reassure. It’ll be fine I keep telling myself.

No big deal, right? I mean, it has to happen sometime. I know the nuns at school preach to keep your virginity until you’re married, but I just don’t see that for myself. For someone like V… innocent and demure it could be an option. But for me… let’s put it this way, Carmine makes me want to melt every time he just kisses me. I can imagine what it’ll do to me when I finally give in and give him my v-card.

I know he’s not on the same level as me. He’s never once flat-out told me how many girls, or beautiful, leggy Italian catwalk models he’s slept with at home. I shake my head hard to get the image out of it. Carmine, all hot and touchy feely with some Kate Moss wannabe is not something I need to think about right now.

“You OK?” V watches on as my head shakes violently, tossing Giselle Bundchen Jr. from my imagination.

I try to act normal. “What? Oh… yeah. I’m fine. I just…” I hold up the pair of lace undies in my hand. “Should I go with the lace or the satin?”

V’s eyes hungrily admire the negligee in my hands. “You’re asking
me
? Momma only lets me buy the cotton ones. She says the fancy ones are for sluts.”

She immediately catches herself once the words are spewn my way. “I’m not saying you’re a slut, Theresa. I.” She seems to be genuinely apologetic. “It’s just… are you absolutely certain about this? I mean, you guys drool all over each other, but, he doesn’t even live in this country! You may never see him again.”

My eyes jump from each panty in front of me. Lace, satin, lace, satin. LACE! It’s decided and I throw them into my pile. “V, I don’t expect you to understand. I… I can’t put it into words. He just… I can’t imagine the thought of possibly never seeing him again and NOT doing this.”

V retreats, sitting back into my mattress and plays with the little white paper tag attached to the dress I’d bought especially for tonight. It’s black and red and according to the salesgirl, it makes me look older.

Carmine is three years older than me and already in University at home. The last thing I need to remind him of tonight is that I’m still a teenager. With this dress, those panties, and the makeup that V has just helped me to paint on my face, I look anything but a young virginal innocent teenager.

~*~

“Wow.” His eyes are surprised, large. “You look… how is it they say? Different.”

I smile at Carmine. I do look different. I know it. But, I hope it won’t be the only thing different about me after tonight.

“Thanks. I… I just went shopping with V. Some woman at the makeup counter wanted me to try some new things.” I offer to cover up the effort I put into tonight.

He takes his thumb and presses it into my lips, transferring some of the red lip lacquer onto his own skin. “There… that’s better.” He wipes his painted finger into his jeans, clearing the makeup. My lips feel lighter now, but somehow more vulnerable. His dark chestnut eyes stare at them. “You’re beautiful Theresa. Bellissima.
Il mil piccolo dolce.
Why you let them do this to you?”

Okay…

I try to smile, but embarrassment begins to creep into the seams of my designer dress. I try my best to laugh it off, walking past him while discreetly rubbing my cheeks to remove more of the heavy makeup.

I feel his hand latch onto mine as I pass, pulling me back. “Theresa… you are precious.
Prezioso
, to me. You aren’t like the rest of the girls. You don’t need to change.”

I move to playfully defend myself, forming some words to salvage my wounded pride. There’s no time. His lips close in, aimed at the reddened lips he’d just critiqued earlier. The instant warmth wastes no time in turning to sweltering hotness as his lips take mine, atoning for the unintentional shaming from before.

His lips are sweet and sensual at the same time, moving over mine and speaking words beyond any language. His muscular hand moves up over my neck to hold it while his mouth finishes its wordless conversation with my flesh.

I feel the familiar chill spread out over my skin, chasing the heat, confusing my senses. I hold him close, not able to bring us close enough. Body pressed up against body, I still feel so far from him. I need to be closer. I know tonight I will be as close as possible with him.

His lips finally slow themselves and release mine, as we both catch our breath, leaving a slick vapor of steam on each other from the intense heat of our breathing. The weakness that takes hold of my body whenever I am in his arms is slow to recede tonight. I hold tighter, breathing in his spicy cologne.

The feelings mixing deep down are enough to rage war in my soul. I want to shout out from the rooftops and tell everyone in sight how much I love this boy, how much I need him. Then, on the other hand, I want to cry because I know that this moment will not last forever. Our time is short, I can practically hear the seconds ticking down.

I need to make sure he doesn’t forget. I need to give him something that he’ll always remember. I take one last deep breath to solidify my courage, and lean in again, kissing him just as deep as he last kissed me.

He eagerly returns the favor and we are swept up once again in each other. My hands go to work on his shirt, carefully but quickly freeing each button from bottom to top. Once the material is cleared from his chest, a frenzied rush takes over, pushing the crisp cotton past his shoulders. My body becomes so hurried that I feel the deep vibrations of our teeth colliding through our kiss. His hands massage my neck, powerfully seizing back control.

Once his shirt is no longer an obstacle, the temptation of his chiseled, muscular chest is too much for me to resist. I blindly pull it up, feeling my fingers clumsily scratch against his rough skin underneath. I know I must have hurt him, injured him with the side effect of my impatience. He shows no sign of it, though.

Instead, his body hardens, his grip on my own body tightens. I seize the opportunity and pull my lips from his, lowering them to taste his flesh, passionately kissing the depression between his neck and chest, using my tongue to sear my imaginary mark on him.

His big hands forcefully plunge into my hair, his head resting low against the top of my own as my lips explore each inch of every muscle. I hear him moan above me. His hands, busy at work in my hair, pull back, forcing me to release my claim on his body.

His eyes stare into mine, deep, dark, brooding. “Theresa… we spoke about this, no?”

I manage to cock my head aside, slightly, in his tight grip. “That’s all we do Carmine.
Talk
about it. I’m tired of talking.”

I risk injury and forcefully pull myself from his constricting imprisonment and return to my place on his skin, licking him in my best tantalizing way, hoping to soften his resolve.

The last thing I want to do at a time like this, is talk. More talk about how ‘I’m different from the rest of the girls.’ ‘How I’m special, and he needs to do things the right way.’ ‘How important it is for him to show respect and talk to Dom since my dad is no longer here’, and ‘how he needs to be worthy of me’. Yada yada yada. I’ve heard it nonstop for the last couple of weeks.

He even tried to speak to Dom last weekend when the whole family had come into Alberti’s for dinner. What the hell was he thinking? The quickest way to kill this thing between us, is to tell my brother. He’ll ship my butt away to boarding school so fast the both of us will get whiplash.

It’s a game he plays. Almost like a macho ‘hard to get.’ The more he tells me we have to wait, we have to make sure to do things the ‘right way,’ whatever that means, makes me want this more.

I feel his body finally accept the nature of tonight and his movements encourage me. With a surge of energy, he grabs around my waist and pulls hard, bringing my body to flight, raising high enough for him to catch under my thighs and hold me tight around him, my legs clenching around his waist. I feel the momentum as we move closer to the old bed in his small apartment.

Finally! I exhale, deep. This is really going to happen.

Something in him changes. Gone is the gentle, nurturing Carmine that I’ve come to love in the last two months- he’s no more. This boy, no, this
man,
is different. He’s almost like a predator, taking what he wants as he roughly drops us down on to his made bed to where the ancient metal springs creak loudly.

I know there is no one near enough to hear them, but a thrill surges at the mere possibility, outing the relationship that we have been concealing due to some archaic sense of honor that he keeps rambling about.

This apartment is his for the summer, one of the few older units above his family’s restaurant. It’s tiny and bare but gives him a place to lay his head at night and for us to have the smallest bit of privacy. Despite the occasional barging in from his cousin Alana, the only person other than V that knows about Carmine and me, we’ve been able to stay off the radar. Carmine is overly cautious and genuinely scared shitless about my brother finding out. With good reason, too. I’ve never had a “boyfriend,” and if Dom has his way, I never will.

That’s not exactly the kind of thing that a teenage girl wants to deal with. Especially when she meets the first boy that makes her want to break all the rules and be damned with the consequences. And that’s what I’m determined to do tonight.

I manage to kick my feet free from my new heels, with the hollow thudding as they drop doing little to interrupt Carmine as he moves, setting fire to my body with every touch, every deep pressing of his weight into me.

His lips are demanding, taking more and more from me with each attack. I’m held hostage, his body pinning me, holding me still for his own enjoyment as he touches and caresses part after part.

“You seduce me,
Il mio piccolo dolce
, with your beauty. A man can only resist so much,” his sweet sounding tongue leaves me craving more, “You’ll be the ruin of me.”