Believe (12 page)

“Call me when you arrive,” Uncle Enzo said, hugging Lita. “You take care of my girl here,” he said to Lorenzo.

Lorenzo nodded. His shoulders tensed, as if Uncle Enzo had handed him an actual weight, a heavy responsibility. Lita rubbed her stomach. If Lee was right about Lorenzo feeling responsible…

“He will, Uncle Enzo,” Vincente said, his deep-set eyes matching the spark in Uncle Enzo’s. Vincente clasped Gina’s hand.

“Have fun,” Gina said with a grin.

Lita and Lorenzo thanked everyone. Uncle Enzo and Celeste were spending the night at Vincente and Grandpop’s, which was no doubt Vincente’s idea. Lita hugged them all and watched as they walked to their cars. Lorenzo pulled her back into the house and shut the door.

“Let’s go upstairs.”

“But—“

“Everything’s cleaned up. No arguments, kitten.”

He brought her into him and kissed her. No peck this time—his mouth took hers with deep intensity. Lita wrapped her arms around his neck to keep herself upright. Lorenzo scooped her up, never breaking their kiss. He strode upstairs, into the guest room. Setting Lita down, he began undressing. Lita glanced around. Roses graced the night table, light petals strewn across the bed and floor, their scent heightened in her excitement. Again, something warred in her belly—excitement and fear. The curtains shut out most of the light, the room seemed hazy. But Lorenzo wasn’t. He stood in front of her now, his white V-neck undershirt tight against his torso, his slacks still on, but bare feet. Even his feet were sexy.

He took her hand and led her into the bathroom, facing her toward the big mirror behind the sink. With nimble fingers, he unpinned her hair, running his fingers through the waves until it fell loose over her shoulders. As she watched him, her body lightened and her thoughts disappeared. All she saw or felt was Lorenzo and their love, the beauty of it, of them together.

He unzipped her dress and slid it off with almost painful slowness. Her skin warmed with each caress of his fingers, each trailed kiss along her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes and melted into the sensations, the infusion of joy and contentment being in Lorenzo’s arms brought.

“I love you. I need you,” she whispered.

His breath tickled across her neck. He grasped her hand and led her to the bed. Facing her, he cupped her cheeks in his hands, gazing at her with intense focus. She flickered her eyelids, almost unable to handle the passion of his look, his touch. Instead, she forced her eyes open, met his gaze, and let herself fall into the moment.

He kissed her. The room spun slightly. She felt for the bed, something else to lean against. Lorenzo placed her on the mattress and peeled off his clothes. Lita unhooked her bra as she watched him, her nipples hardening at the sight of him, his tall, athletic body, tanned, toned, his erection long and hard. Just the sight of him, the lingering whispers of his touch, aroused her more than anything ever had. He moved on top of her, edging them back into the bed as Lita explored his body the way she’d dreamed of so many times. She caressed and licked, stroked and kissed, until they both panted for air, for a deeper taste of each other.

“Lita, oh God, Lita,” he whispered in a hoarse tone. She held his hard length, guiding him between her open thighs. Then he kissed her with such force and fire that she let go, throwing her hands back, slack by her head. She tried grinding her hips into him, but he pressed himself closer, kissing her, rubbing his body against hers in a dance of slow seduction.

When she was completely open, whispering words of longing and need, he entered her. She flinched. He slowed his movement, letting her ease against him, taking him deeper, until he filled her. She softened—the familiar mellow sultriness his nearness brought engulfed her. They rode the tide of their love and desire until Lita gasped, arching her body into Lorenzo’s. He held her close and with a final thrust, he spent himself in her.

Warmth radiated in her as Lorenzo held her in bed, her mind jumbled and incoherent. She smoothed a hand over his chest and smiled. Her husband should be
People
magazine’s “Sexiest Man Alive.” He ran his fingers through her hair and held her hand with his.

She rested her chin on his chest and smiled at him. She snuggled into him again. He caressed her back, sending tendrils of heat into her. They stayed like that a long time, maybe sleeping a little, but all Lita knew was warmth and pleasure.

A clapping sound from somewhere made her start. The image of Lorenzo, hand raised, with some woman, flashed in her mind. She tugged the tiny hairs on his chest. She bit her lip and shuddered. He took her face in his hands, their heat and smoothness covered her cheeks.

“I love you. Only you,” he said.

“Me too.”

He kissed her and pinched her rear, like she hoped he would. Then he started tickling. She giggled and squirmed.

“Stop,” she called through her laughter.

He pulled her onto him.

“I love you, forever,” she whispered.

He kissed her. Waves of molten pleasure poured through her. She moved her legs astride him and let herself kiss back, let herself make all the moans and purrs she wanted, let herself grind and nibble and lose control. Lorenzo grunted. She sat all the way up, accidentally kneeing him in the stomach as she tried to climb off him. She collapsed onto her back and pulled the sheet up. A full body blush was possible. They eyed each other. She covered her face with the sheet. He snuck a hand under and moved it over her. She squirmed, the heat starting again.

“I like your enthusiasm,” he said.

There was an implied “but” at the end. But she needed work. But she had no idea what she was doing. But…mmm. He slid over her and gave her a long, hard kiss, the kind that made her head tingle and her body find his.

Though he hardened against her, he only kissed her for a long time. His tongue played with hers, circling and darting. They feasted on each other like they would a light, delectable chocolate mousse, complete with tiny sighs and groans of delight. Lita’s cheeks burned, her whole body suffused in a hot glow, almost like a sunburn, but no, the heat and calm from the sun before you later feel the burn. She parted her thighs and wriggled closer to him. He sucked her earlobe. She moaned and tried to arch into him, but he pressed himself firmly onto her.

Caressing her arms, he whispered to her, “I love you, my sweet angel, my wife.”

She tried to answer, but only a slight gurgle came out as he found her special spot with his fingers. He flicked it with his fingertip then rubbed around it before circling closer with increasing pressure. He smiled at her before she tilted her head back and gripped the hand which still held hers.

Prickling moisture heated her and she threw her head forward when he joined his other hand in hers and entered her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

She never wanted to be without him, without the feeling of him inside her. She sighed back further with his every movement, their movements, their pleasure, their love. Their breathing quickened while their bodies slowed.

“I love you,” she breathed out as they gazed at each other.

He brushed her hair back. He said nothing, but his touch, his eyes told her all she wanted: he loved her, she was enough.

She smiled, her muscles relaxed. The sharp intake of her breath sounded when he tilted slightly and doubled his efforts. She gasped for air as he continued, holding her hands again. She moaned. She was the ocean, ebbing and flowing, powerful and beautiful, calm and sun kissed. She quaked and stilled.
Lorenzo
. She found his eyes again, they focused on each other. He closed his eyes and shuddered; she felt his release flowing in her. She hadn’t known that was possible, to feel each movement of him inside her like that. She wrapped her legs around him as they held each other.

They kissed. She wanted to stay like this all night. But he pulled away. She pressed herself into his side after he rolled to his back. He put his arms around her.

“Better?” he said.

“The best.”

“Yes,” he said.

He yawned. She brushed her lips over his. His eyes closed, but he smiled. She made him smile. She beamed and melted into him. The best man, her man, her husband. Family, marriage, togetherness, a honeymoon in Italy, a lifetime, all miracles—she was blessed.

Chapter Eleven

“Good morning.” Lorenzo’s deep, ultra-sexy tone made even those simple words a pleasurable proposition.

Lita opened her eyes fully. Lorenzo, propped on his hand, watched her. With his free hand, he caressed her hair, her forehead, tickled the bridge of her nose, brushed her lips, tweaked her chin. He kissed her. She sighed, satisfied and cozy. Her eyes roved the room, wanting to remember each detail, the light shafting in onto the pale carpet, the walls shadowed, the orderliness of the few accessories, the lamp, chair, clock…seven-thirty. Lorenzo kissed her neck.

“Isn’t Nico arriving at eight?” she asked.

He made a low noise.

She pushed on him. “I need to shower. We’ve got a plane to catch.”

She scooted away and hurried into the bathroom. Lorenzo’s solid body flopped on the bed as he groaned in frustration. A lot of sounds he made were still new to her, but she knew better those of his frustration. She smiled as she turned on the water, steam billowing out. But now she could make it up to him later, now she could give him what he wanted—what they both wanted.

He snuck in a few kisses and pinches when he stepped into the shower as she got out. Fifteen minutes later, they sat at the kitchen table, eating a quick breakfast. Lita’s hair stuck to her neck, still wet underneath. Lorenzo caressed her thigh as they ate. Lita wriggled. The doorbell rang.

Lorenzo stood and Lita hurriedly cleaned up, meeting them out in the town car.

Lorenzo’s jaw flexed and he stared forward with one of his brooding looks. It wasn’t the angry brood, like he got when he mentioned his dad, or, to a lesser degree, events that bothered him, like when she’d asked about Lee yesterday. No, this one was intense but she didn’t understand what feeling caused it.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him as Nico merged onto the freeway.

“I can understand why some people don’t go far for their honeymoons. I want you alone. Now,” he whispered. He held her hands, tracing her fingers.

“We will be.” She kissed his ear, his neck. That explained his look—he wanted her, but couldn’t have her. She exhaled. So many times over the last few years he’d looked at her like that, and she’d thought she’d done something to upset him, or that someone had. “By tomorrow we’ll be all alone. We just have to wait.”

“I’m done with waiting.” He glanced at her.

The wicked grin on his face made her giggle. “Aren’t I worth it?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t care that Nico was in the front seat—she kissed Lorenzo for the rest of the fifteen minute drive to the airport.

***

Lita wore Lorenzo out with her nonstop talking on the flight to New York. He told her so before they landed. At least he said it with a laugh. She had to stop as they rushed across the terminal to catch their connecting flight to Naples.

Once they settled into their oversized first class seats and the seatbelt light dimmed, Lita slipped off her heels and curled up next to Lorenzo. She tucked away the armrest and took his arm. Just when she got comfortable, she realized she had to use the ladies’ room. She tugged her shoes on and stood.

“I’ll be right back,” she said.

He pulled her to him. “Why don’t I meet you back there in a few minutes?” he whispered.

Lita cringed and shook her head.

“Come on, Lita.”

She still bent over him. He brushed her breasts in a quick movement.

She pushed his hands, even though part of her wanted to lean into his touch. But it was too public. “No.”

She strode down the aisle. She wouldn’t even sit all the way on a seat in a public restroom much less have sex in the tiny, probably dirty, airplane bathroom. As she washed her hands, she tried to imagine how he could even accomplish such a thing, but she failed.

When she returned to her seat, a tall Nordic-looking stewardess blocked the aisle with a drinks cart. And stood smiling at Lorenzo, whose deep chuckle made Lita clench her hands into fists.

“Excuse me,” Lita said. The flight attendant glanced at her. Lee’s words reverberated in Lita’s head—“flight attendants in every city.” “I’d like to sit with my husband.”

“Of course,” she said with a calm, cold smile. She inched the cart back so Lita could reach her seat. “Can I get you anything?”

Lita pulled the armrest down. “A Sprite, thanks.”

The flight attendant handed Lorenzo a tiny bottle. Lita didn’t look long enough to see what before the attendant handed Lita her soda.

“Nice to see you again, Lorenzo,” the attendant said.

“You too. Have a good time in Naples,” he said, his voice deep, as it was this morning.

Lita stared at the bubbles clinging to the glass. That tone in his voice—oozing sexy—should be for her only, not every attractive woman who spoke to him.

“I will, but we’ll miss you. Safe travels.” The cart clattered a few feet before her voice disturbed Lita again.

Lita sipped her drink while Lorenzo poured his. She glanced over. Vodka and cranberry juice. Clouds obscured the window view. Lita’s ears hurt, but not from the altitude. Ice clinked in Lorenzo’s glass.

“Why don’t you meet her in the bathroom?” Lita whispered.

“I can’t help it if we run into women I’ve known.”

She sighed. He was right. And she’d known how experienced he was before they’d ever kissed. And she’d sounded like the Lita she didn’t like. “I’m sorry.”

He exhaled. Lita made herself see him. Her stomach dropped, as if the plane had lost altitude, at the hurt in his posture, his shoulders hunched, his face like a boy’s who wouldn’t cry even though his best friend hit him.

She pushed the armrest up and snuggled into him. His arm tensed.

“I....” She didn’t know how to explain why she said those bitchy things. She couldn’t explain it to herself. She smoothed a hand over his chest and he slid his arm around her. “I love you. I don’t want to fight.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered.

He kissed her on the top of her head, which was cradled on his chest. She caressed his arm until he relaxed into her touch.

“Just us once we get to the house,” he said.

Lita nodded and asked about the villa again. Soon, she dozed, relaxed in Lorenzo’s arms.

The pilot’s voice woke her as they descended into Naples. Lita stretched, careful not to bump Lorenzo with a careless elbow or hand. She kissed him and he smiled. The swell of excitement took over as she stared out the window. So many memories of her father and their friends. But, like New York City, exploring Naples with Lorenzo would have to wait. Lorenzo had promised he would take her back to both someday, when they had time to devote to sightseeing. She knew for now he just wanted to see her. She grasped his hand.

She kept a tight grip on him through the crowded airport, customs, and into the terminal, where Uncle Enzo’s cousin, Eduardo, would meet them. The tall guards with big guns dressed in khaki and dark red sent a shiver of fear through her and she clutched Lorenzo’s arm harder. He glanced at her.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said.

She kissed him and smiled. “I know.”

Eduardo guarded them as well when they walked out to his car, parked in a lot across from the terminal. Lita wondered again at the strength of Italian genes. She looked like Aunt Angela, while both Lorenzo and Eduardo strongly resembled both each other and Uncle Enzo. Eduardo’s hair, though, was salt and pepper, where Uncle Enzo’s was silver and Lorenzo’s still dark brown. Lita linked arms with the two men as they walked. Contentment floated through her, as when Lorenzo and Uncle Enzo escorted her somewhere, like to Sal’s for lunch.

Eduardo insisted she and Lorenzo sit in the backseat together. Lita snuggled into his embrace while Eduardo sped through the city, talking as fast as he drove, gesturing to the landmarks. Lita blinked, unable to follow his quick words and pointing. She leaned her head on Lorenzo’s shoulder and gave up trying. She would see it all again another time.

The drive to Sorrento was like cruising down the California coast, except the sky seemed more blue and clear, and the buildings distinctly Italian. Within the hour, they approached the family villa, which Lita had seen many pictures of, but still the sun-washed mellowness, the bright purple and yellow flowers against the eggshell walls popped, reminding her of her father’s house. She leaned closer to Lorenzo. The villa overlooked the sea, a unique deep turquoise blue. Low-growing leafy green lemon trees dotted the grounds. Off to the side stood a smaller house, where Eduardo and his wife, Philomena, lived. They took care of the property, since the villa sat unused many months of the year.

A tiny, round woman ran down the steps to greet them, wiping her hands on her orange apron. She spoke too quickly, jumbled words of welcome, but the warm smile and bosomy hug were clear.

She held Lita’s face a moment. “Ah,
che bella
, Lorenzo.”

“
Sí
,” Lorenzo said.

The air mingled citrus and fresh, warm sea breezes with Lorenzo’s scent. The two were similar, but his had a different edge. Mena, as she liked to be called, had a motherly air. Lita’s father had spoken briefly of Mena, a distant cousin, but they hadn’t met. Her father hadn’t liked to travel, even the short distance from Sorrento.

Mena led her into the house, while the men followed with their bags. Mena showed Lita the kitchen, all the food she’d prepared for them, the downstairs bathroom, and the phone. The colors reflected the beach, worn light woods, blues, sandy white, as well as the bright lemon yellow and waxy dark green of the lemon trees. So similar to their home back in San Francisco, except the clear quality of the light, as if they were a step closer to heaven.

“You and my father were cousins?” Lita asked as Mena dished up a chopped salad on two plates, the same as those at home.

“Yes, Timo was my favorite. He was seven years my senior but always kind. He had so much love to give and how he missed Angela, who moved away with Enzo when Timo was seven, the year I was born.”

Lorenzo walked in the room. He frowned and she thought he shook his head at Mena.

“Thanks,” Lorenzo said.

Mena nodded and took off her apron, which she hung in the closet by the back door.

“Are you going?” Lita said.

Mena nodded again.

“The family’s giving us a party tomorrow evening at Aunt Arianna’s house in Vico Equense,” Lorenzo said.

Lita smiled and thanked Mena and Eduardo, who waved goodbye in uncharacteristic silence as they closed the back door behind them.

“I’m looking forward to meeting Uncle Enzo’s younger sister and the DeGrazia cousins. Will some of the Sabatinis be there too? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Eduardo just told me. Yes, some of your dad’s family will be there, and probably some neighbors. Everyone will want to see you, no doubt.”

“And I want to see them,” Lita said.

She began to smile but stopped seeing Lorenzo’s frown. They sat and ate in silence. Lita listened to the unfamiliar quiet, the lapping of the sea on the beach, the low rustle of the breeze through the lemon trees, and the distant shouts.

When they finished, Lorenzo stood and took their plates. He washed them and set them in the wooden dish drain. He gripped the sink edge and bowed his head. Lita rose and came up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself into him. He was strong, warm, his scent dizzied her. He turned and tipped her face up. She studied him. He had that angry brooding look now. She swallowed.

He shook his head then kissed her. She sighed into him and soon she tingled in anticipation. He carried her upstairs and their honeymoon truly began.

***

Lita shifted in bed. The afternoon sun spilled across the floor of the bedroom, where they’d been for the last twenty-four hours.

“I guess we need to get ready soon,” Lita said. She loved the way her head nestled into Lorenzo’s chest, how he stroked her hair, and the quiet satisfaction they shared. This would be a good habit—addictive but good.

“Unless you want me to call and cancel,” he said.