Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan) (21 page)

"It all went like clockwork,
cara mia.
Your father is hiding out in safe place only known to the Don, and he will lie low for a while, until it's safe for him to re-emerge in his new persona."

"And then I can see him again, right?"

His gut churned at the vulnerability behind those halting words.             

"Eventually,
cara,
yes. I won't stop you from seeing him or anyone else for that matter." He took a deep breath and turned her around in his arms. He framed her face in his hands and drank in the sight of her. She looked uncertain, vulnerable, and hopeful, all rolled into one. He leaned down to kiss her, and her eyes fluttered shut as he brushed a kiss across her lips.

His cock screamed at him to take the kiss deeper, to bury himself deep in the tight clasp of her body, and drive them both crazy with sexual need, but he pulled away. She curled her hands in his suit jacket and tried to pull him back down to her, and he groaned and disentangled her hands.

"
Cara,
don't. I want you so fucking badly right now I ache, but we need to talk."

She shook her head and whispered, "I don't want to talk. Can't we just stay as we are?"

Again he took her hands and gently pulled them behind her back to stop her from touching him.

"No, we can't. I want it all, Jemima. I want us to have a true marriage, and for that we need to be honest. Honest about our past and honest about what we want from our future." He put his free hand on her abdomen and she gasped. Their eyes locked and tears welled up in hers.

"I might not be pregnant, Giorgio."

A weight fell off him at her barely audible admission, and he held his breath when she continued.

"But by God, I so want to be."

****

Jemima could not believe she had just admitted that, even if Giorgio's reaction filled her with a warm glow. He shut his eyes for a second and released his breath in a loud whoosh. When he opened them again she could have sworn there was a shimmer of tears before he drew her in for a bone-crunching hug.

"Thank you for telling me,
cara mia.
" He released her and went on his knees to kiss her belly. She couldn't hear the muffled, Italian words he spoke, but his hands dug into her hips and when he looked up, she lost herself in the depths of emotion displayed in his silver eyes. He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but grin back at him, everything else forgotten in the moment.

"Get up, Giorgio. What on earth are you doing?"

"Saying hello to my son, of course. What does it look like I'm doing? I intend to do this every day, until he is born. Babies can hear inside there, you know."

She rolled her eyes and suppressed a giggle at his silliness.

"I know that, but we don't even know for sure if I
am
pregnant, and even if I am the baby would be no bigger than a shrimp.
She
can't hear anything yet."

He straightened up and kissed her nose in answer.

"
He
soon will be able to, and if you're not pregnant, then you soon will be."

Jemima rolled her eyes again, which earned her a playful tap on the ass.

"Now you sound like your aunt. Why is this family obsessed with having babies?"

The sinful smile he gave her in answer made her toes curl under and her breathing hitch in anticipation.

"Maybe because it's so much fun making them?" His hand on her hips tugged her dress up, and he backed her up against the wall, and kicked her legs apart with his feet. His eyes darkened, and the determined expression on his face made her swallow as he cupped her mound and smiled. She was already wet for him, and she moaned when he slipped a finger under the elastic of her thong and teased that tight bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Her fingers dug into his shirt, as her body responded with an immediate gush of liquid, aiding his questing digits. "Giorgio, your aunt—"

"Will know better than to come back down here." Giorgio's husky words in her ear pitched her arousal higher still, and she spread her legs wider to allow his fingers to work their magic. "I want you so fucking badly, I can't get enough of you. I love how wet you are for me,
tesoro mio."

His hot breath whispered across the spot just under her ear that always sent her hormones a little crazy, and she ground herself against his hand, silently urging him to go faster. He latched onto her neck and sucked hard enough to leave a bruise, his teeth nipping along her skin, and the tiny bites shot along her nerve endings. She pulled at his shirt and sighed in appreciation when she found bare skin. Warm and soft, and so very him, it called her, and he groaned when she ran her hands over his six pack, until she reached his waistband. She stroked his hard length through the fabric of his trousers, and Giorgio yanked her head back by her hair and kissed her.

Their teeth clashed, and their tongues dueled in a dance of passion and heat that set her alight. Lava replaced the blood in her veins, and the pressure on her swollen folds when Giorgio pulled the fabric of her underwear tight against her slit had her tighten his hold on her cock. With an audible rip the delicate lace gave way, and Jemima whimpered her need into Giorgio's possessive kiss.

He broke away, and lifted the remnants of her underwear to his nose and inhaled. "So fucking sweet,
cara,
I may just insist that you go without these in future. I like the thought of having you wet and available for me under these delightful dresses." He chuckled as heat rose into her cheeks, and her pussy clamped down in need at the sinfully naughty images those growled words painted in her mind.

He'd said much the same to her back then in the heady, lust-filled days and weeks when they'd first gotten married. He'd surprised her time and again by slipping into her from behind when she'd least expected it, their passion as explosive then as it was now, and she'd reveled in the knowledge that she'd been his to do with as he pleased—whenever, wherever, and to hell with any thoughts of the future. Back then, she'd fallen so hard and so deep, it had scared her shitless, and Beauchamp had proven a distraction, to show to herself that she could distance herself, that she was in control of her emotions and not the other way round. That had been too scary, too all-consuming to contemplate.

Thoughts of Beauchamp dampened her arousal, and she must have tensed because Giorgio framed her face in his hands and said, "Stop thinking that much,
cara.
I need you with me in this."

Tears filled her vision, and he swore. He let her go, and she shook her head.

"No, please, Giorgio. I need you. Now, fuck me, please. I don't want to think."

He frowned, but he lifted her effortlessly and set her on the counter top. She shrieked at the sensation of the cold marble on her naked sex, before he spread her legs and his warm tongue made her forget anything else. He licked a path of sensation up and down her labia, and her fingers curled in the silky strands of his hair, holding him close, urging him to go faster, to not stop. Her harsh breaths were too loud in the quiet kitchen, and she closed her eyes and screamed as the first waves of her orgasm hit her. Relentlessly he drove on, tunneling his tongue in and out of her quivering channel, whilst his fingers, slick with her arousal thrust in and out of her anus, pushing her toward another all-consuming orgasm. Stars burst behind her eyelids when he bit down on her clit, and she yanked at his hair. It was too much … not enough … she needed…

"What do you need,
amore mio?
This?" Giorgio pulled back, leaving her hovering on the brink of yet another release, and she thumped his chest in frustration.

He laughed, and she pouted at him, thankful beyond belief when he unzipped his trousers.  She helped him free his cock, and her mouth went dry at the sight of him. Thick and eager, it sprang up to his abdomen, the head glistening with pre-cum, and she wriggled herself closer. One hand on her hip, one on his shaft he tormented them both by running it up and down her slit, teasing her hole until she grabbed his shoulders and impaled herself on him.

He swore, and Jemima flew. Her muscles stretched around the delightful invasion, and she locked her ankles behind his butt and lifted her hips to take him deeper. She ground herself against him, lost in her body's demands and the need to be close to him, oblivious of her surroundings, of anything but the feel and taste of him as she hurtled toward another orgasm every bit as intense as the ones she'd already had. Her channel quivered and shook around him, and he pumped faster, and faster. Sweat made their clothing cling to their skin, as they strove to reach that pinnacle together, and this time when she exploded, Giorgio joined her. He growled his release into her shoulder, as her whole body shook with aftershocks. When she finally managed to draw air into her lungs, she opened her eyes in time to see the man standing on the patio. Her scream of horror was drowned out by the gunshot ringing in her ears. She managed to shove Giorgio out of the way before the world went black.

Giorgio paced the hospital corridor like a madman, dimly aware of his assembled family quietly sitting vigil with him. If Jemima didn't pull through he didn't know what he would do. There had been so much blood, so much of it. He shuddered even now, recalling the aftermath of that gunshot. One minute he'd been floating on clouds of ecstasy, deeply buried inside the woman he loved, the next she had screamed and shoved him out the way with a strength belying her slender frame.

Ears ringing from the gunshot, all he'd seen was Jemima slumped across the kitchen counter, a crimson stain spreading across her abdomen with alarming speed. Alfonso's men had crowded into the kitchen, the scum who'd shot her, spread eagled on the floor with two men holding him down. With a speed honed by years of military service, and then protection detail under the Don, Alfonso had taken charge. He'd pushed a towel into Giorgio's hands and hollered at him to pull himself together and press that to Jemima's wound. He'd then called the emergency services and had disappeared taking the cretin who'd shot Jemima away with him, before Stella had even managed to appear in the kitchen.

To her credit, Stella had proven a rock in the surreal mayhem after the shooting. Jemima had briefly regained consciousness as the ambulance arrived to stabilize her wound. Disoriented and in pain, she'd ran her hands over him as if to reassure herself that he was indeed all right. Her whispered, "I'm so sorry," had broken his heart in half. Her blood was on his hands. He balled them into fists now. That blood was still under his fingernails. No amount of scrubbing in the hospital toilets seemed to have helped. He'd recognized the scum who'd shot his wife. When Alfonso's men had pulled the man to his feet, he'd seen a face from his past. A man he'd thought long gone from his life, his debt long paid off. It seemed not. He punched the wall in frustration of his own stupidity.

Marco's hand on his shoulder forced him back to the here and now.

"Vandalizing hospital property will get you thrown out, and that will not help Jemima. She will need you here when she comes round."

Giorgio swore again and shook his cousin's hand off.

"You don't understand. That shot was meant for me. If she doesn't … if she doesn't—" He couldn't bring himself to voice that possibility.

Marco shook his head in understanding. "She is stronger than she looks. She'll make it, and you'll have the rest of your life to make it up to her. You always knew this day could come. It was the price you paid for rescuing the vineyard. We all accepted it at the time. Beppe was an ass who needed his balls strung up to dry. He left you with no choice at all."

At the mention of his father, Giorgio's scowl deepened, until it matched Marco's. His father's drunkard ways had run the business into the ground, and when he was finally run off the road in that car accident, it had been up to Giorgio to pick up the pieces as best he could. With the help of the Don, they'd eliminated the threat to the family business and Giorgio's person.

But Jean-Claude carried grudges. The money had not been enough, and when Giorgio had the chance to pull the trigger he hadn't taken it. He'd thought him long gone, but recent events and Beauchamp's desperation should have warned him that the Frenchman was back. There had been rumors of him slowly rebuilding his criminal enterprise. He'd still thought of the vineyard as his, and Giorgio was in his way. His marriage to Jemima and the possibility of an heir had clearly pushed him over the edge.

"What will you do with him this time?" Marco's quietly uttered question made Giorgio's hair stand on end, and he balled his hands into fists.

"I don't think that is my choice to make anymore. Jemima is
family.
The bastard signed his own death warrant when he pulled the trigger. It's beyond fucking ironic that by convincing the world that she wasn't Henry James' daughter, we left her open to an attack from my past."

A heavy silence fell between the two men, until Elise's urgent call galvanized them into action. Stood in the entrance to the relatives' waiting room, Jemima's twin gestured for them to come over. She looked so much like Jemima at this moment, that Giorgio had to blink to refocus. No wonder Marco had been so hell-bent on protecting her. The sisters were identical in looks, right down to the freckles on their jaw, and with Jemima's more conservative dress style since her accident, there was very little to distinguish between them.