Femme Fatale Loved (Pericolo #3) (15 page)

I throw my bag onto the bed, picking up the photo frame lying facedown on the floor by my foot. I sigh in relief, as I find the last family photo I have with Manuel intact. I place it down beside the bed and straighten the lamp that has fallen.

I walk around the bed but find Zane collecting glass from the floor and throwing it into the small trashcan situated by my dresser. I bite on my bottom lip as I watch him bend over again, his dark jeans tightening around his perfect ass, and I feel myself become wetter than ever. My libido had been on overdrive for a while, heightened by the baby apparently, but I had it down to being madly in love. Now, I think the two are a potent mix.

I decide to take the leap and bring him to my level just to get a little fun in before we have to finish.

“Zane?”

“Mmm,” he muses, turning back.

He’s shocked that I pounce quite so quickly, pushing him back against the wall. He barely had time to register what was happening, let alone react appropriately. He looks down at me; again, I react quickly, reaching up to crook his neck downward so I can kiss him. He gives in to the kiss for all of two minutes before resisting me. He’s playing the devil’s advocate, I know it; the swirl of disappointment tells me the same.

“We should be picking up,” Zane observes as I push him back against our bedroom wall.

“But I’m so horny,” I whine, sinking further against him, my fingers clawing at his shirt. “And we have the room to ourselves. We can be quick.”

“Is this Amelia talking or the hormones?” he asks, cocking a brow.

“I think it’s been the hormones talking for the last few weeks,” I say, giggling. I feel almost drunk on happiness right now. “I just need to feel you.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love you and would love to be buried between your legs, right now, we can’t.” He grabs my hands, moving them away from his collar. “We have been caught on more than one occasion, and I really don’t want to leave that sort of lasting impression on Dante when the guy is already watching me for one wrong move.”

“He is not,” I say, defending Dante. “Is he?”

“He’s very passive-aggressive,” Zane replies dryly. “I now see what the guys meant about how protective he is over you, but he needs to step back a little, drop the interrogation a little, and let me breathe. I got all my bad moves and mistakes out of my system a while back.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I reply, stepping back in close.

“He’s acting like that because of the baby, too.”

Suddenly, Zane’s eyes brighten up, widening as his lips curl into a smile that seems to go for miles. We’ve not spoken much more about what happens now since we left the sanctum of the bathroom, but I can’t wait to sit up all night discussing what will happen in the future with our baby. I already am seeing the nursery, the mobile that’ll hang above the crib, the long preparations, that first moment holding our child in my arms. I don’t know how I’m going to last until it’s born.

“I love when you mention it.”

“Good because we’re going to be mentioning it a lot for the next seven months.” I giggle, his arms looping back. “We have so much to talk about.”

“What about letting everyone know?” he asks, inquisitively on point. “Your brothers are going to flip.”

“They really are, aren’t they?” I reply, questioning with a note of nerves quivering my voice. “I think we should wait for them all to be here. There’s no point waiting until the twelve-week point seeing as Alessa, Dante, and Ryleigh were there when the doctor said it.”

“I do have something for you, though.”

I don’t rummage through my bag on the bed to find the ultrasound shot; I tip everything all over the bed. While my purses falls heavily down, everything else scatters – makeup, a packet of gum, a pen, loose coins, the disc of the heartbeat. Last to fall out is the image.

“This is yours,” I say, passing him the small photo.

He takes it, and the silence is deafening. He doesn’t look anywhere but at that grainy black and white image. Zane suddenly maneuvers across the room, waiting to find the edge of the bed before collapsing onto it as if the weight of the moment is too much to stay standing. I stand awkwardly across the room, waiting for him to react, but I’m getting that same catatonic state I entered. The disbelief of what he’s looking at becoming an overwhelming silence.

“Zane?” I quiz quietly, moving toward the bed.

“It’s a jelly bean.” That one response, while making me laugh, is one I love – it’s what I said. “Baby Maverick is a jelly bean.”

“With one kickass heartbeat,” I mention, reaching behind us to bring the CD into view. “I got a recording of that.” I gulp, as the inanimate object renders him further speechless. “You weren’t there with me to hear it first, but I wanted to make sure you got to hear it as soon as I was home.”

“Can we play it?” he asks. I sense it’s rhetorical as I watch him become a livewire. “Can we throw everyone out and watch it?”

“I wish,” I snort, lowering my hand so the disc is in my lap. “We need to clean the house up and get Dante, Ryleigh, and Alessa settled. I said they could stay here while the crazy settles.”

“When they’re in bed, we’re watching this,” Zane states, taking the disc. “I want to hear this.”

“I want you to hear it, too,” I reply, leaning in for a kiss. I linger near him after that endearing touch of our lips. “I wanted nothing more than you to be there with me, Zane, but the way you’ve reacted is perfect. It’s more than my dreams imagined.”

“Did you think I’d freak?” he asks, mirth smothers him like a thick cloak.

I had thought it, but it was never a lingering thought. The moment the idea entered my head, it vanished. We had both dreamed of a family, vehemently spoken of its prospects. I didn’t think Zane would be anything but stunned before admitting to his happiness.

“No, but be disappointed you weren’t there.”

“I would never dampen this moment with a childish reaction. There’s more to this than who got to see it first. I’ll get to love him or her first.”

“Joint first,” I reply, scrunching my face up at the corniness of this moment. “We’re becoming a real cookie-cutter family.”

“Good,” he says triumphantly, sitting up. “That’s what you wanted for us, and we’re finally getting it.”

There's a new dawn in his eyes. The intensity is Zane's; I could feel it before I saw it, but the insecurity that threatened it was not his.

"Do you think I'll make a good father?" he asks, suddenly meek and mild. "I don't know what I'm doing. I'm happy, fucking ecstatic, but I'm terrified. I can't deny that. I'm fucking losing my mind here. Amelia, what if I screw this baby's life up?"

I try to withdraw a laugh. I shake my head to make the building sensation stop from multiplying, but what do I say when he's being so fucking cute?!

"Do you think I'll make a good mother?" I ask, echoing his question. "Zane, we're both going into this confused and lost." I lift my hand to graze his face, to keep this moment tender. "We're not going to get it right ... ever. But we’ll love this baby because that’s what we know. We will love him or her until we're fit to burst and even then, we won't stop. They'll be cherished and loved and wanted. So I can't tell you if you'll be a good father because I'd be lying. Just like you can't predict if I'll be a good mother. But we have each other, a big family, and a whole lot of love to give."

Zane moves closer to me, knocking my hand away so his can frame mine this time. His lips hover over mine, readying for a kiss, preparing to smother mine. I anticipate the first touch, that heavy feeling to seduce me, but all I feel is the lightest sweep of his lips against mine. He’s not going to kiss me quick. "I know you're going to be an amazing mom regardless if you know what you're doing. Just you knowing how much we'll love this child proves how well we're going to do. The rest we learn as we go."

His lips dance across mine; luring me with the sensation of touch alone, I then feel his tongue trail across my lips until I give him what he wants – me.

He pulls me onto his lap, forcing me to straddle him, and as hands grip my ass, pulling my wanting, pleading, desperate body toward him, I know I have to destroy the moment. I push on his shoulders separating us, and I hate the feeling as his body warmth leaves mine.

"If we don't stop, I will jump you, and between how much I want you and the damage my brother did, one of us is going to be yelling out."

"We learned to smother orgasms a long time ago, sweetheart," he jokes, gripping my ass in both hands. "Come on."

I gasp as he drags me forward, and I feel his erection throb against his jeans. Heat rises, and I’m rendered weak as he trails kisses down my neck, knowing exactly what he is doing to me. I start to relent, allow him to flip me onto my back, devour me, and then thrust into me so thick and fast I forget how to breathe. I start to feel myself clench on the idea, and just as I’m about to cave ...

“Carlo’s outside!”

“Fucking Dante,” Zane whimpers, all sexual tension disappearing at the drop of a hat.

“Told ya,” I mumble, dropping to cup his face and kiss him. “We’re not going to have a hope in hell of getting laid.”

“But I have a real ache,” Zane mutters, moaning to me. “Tonight, when they’re asleep, I’m taking you.”

“Deal,” I say, stealing one more kiss before I clamber off his lap and rush for the door.

Carlo arrives at the front door just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, letting himself in. I don’t give him a chance to question the state of the house. I rush to hug him, getting my welcome in before I go further.

“I have something to tell you before we go further.”

“No shit,” he comments, looking around. “What the fuck, Amelia? I know you and Zane can barely keep your hands to yourself, but to do criminal damage like this?”

“Shut up,” I playfully warn, narrowing my gaze. “This was Gio’s fault. This is why Zane brought him to you to sort out.” I watch him sober up, the humor flushing from his exterior, and he looks at me flabbergasted. “He broke in, and he and Zane fought before I got home. He came back here for me.”

“That man of yours left off this pretty detail.”

“That’s not just it,” I start to say, delaying the inevitable.

“Carlo Abbiati as I live and breathe!” Dante’s voice intercepts our moment, the joy to see more family hitting him.

I raise both eyebrows in shock, pointing over my shoulder at Dante. “Nope, that’s it, though! I’m done!” I bail out, moving out of the way so the two can welcome on another. “Dante’s back!”

“Well, I knew my sister was up to something, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

I shoot him a look, telling him to keep quiet. When Carlo looks at me, I smile innocently.

“We stumbled across one another while I was out with Alessa,” I utter, twisting the truth slightly.

“So you found her?” Carlo asks, focusing on that matter. I nod, and he looks back and forth between us. “And? Did she come home?”

“I sure did,” Alessa greets, coming into the room as well. “Wasn’t hard really. That girl just needs to give me a smile, and I’ll do whatever she asks just to keep her sweet.” She approaches my brother, giving him a huge hug. “How have you been, Carlo?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he mutters, hugging her tighter than he would most other people. “Maybe you might be able to make Enzo act less like a bear with a sore fucking head.”

They separate, and Carlo begins to rub the back of his neck as if to be uncomfortable discussing Enzo when he was as much a part of this plan as I was.

“Is he that unbearable nowadays?” she asks, and I can see her sympathetic nature ebbing through. “I don’t know what life holds for us, but I won’t be leaving until he’s back to himself for good.”

“You moved back then?” Carlo quips, sarcastically. “He won’t be able to have you back for a little while and then have you leave. Not again.”

“We don’t know if the chemistry’s still there,” she remarks, sadly. “His happiness is my main priority here.”

“You’ll be his main priority,” Carlo admits, and the somber moment of realization washes over everyone. Clapping his hands together, he knows that talking about it won’t help anyone, only raise blood pressure. “Now, how do we get this place cleaned up before he and Bruno arrive?”

I want to admit my own secret but refrain and promptly agree.

We continue to clean; the house is almost clear of broken glass and debris, except for the few blood stains in the carpet. We’ve since retired to the backyard, enjoying the afternoon sun, but it’s tinged with the wait for Enzo to arrive with Bruno. They’re working late to free up a few days for the anniversary of Manuel’s death, and I can’t help but feel everything is so far falling into place.

“I’m going to see how dinner’s doing,” I mutter, getting up to leave.

I’m tired and hungry, and it can’t be a good combination, especially as Dante keeps watching me, waiting for me to eat. But not only is he watching me intently, so is Zane, and I can tell both of these are going to be a handful. The moment I say I’m going to check on the food, both seem to release a breath and begin to act normally. I don’t let them see my smirk, let alone see that I’m actually trying hard not to laugh.

I walk into the kitchen just as Enzo enters from the front of the house, and Alessa follows me from the backyard. As both see one another, the world seems to stop spinning, all air disperses from the room, and the tension skyrockets.