Wrong (Spada Crime Family #2) (11 page)

It’s slow and hot, and, God… I’ve never, ever had a man inside me like this before. I’ve always demanded a condom. Not that I’ve been with a huge number of men, but I was always careful. Even Sal never told me no—in fact, he almost never had to be reminded. But this, with Nick…

It’s not so much the physical sensation, though I’m sure it feels different to him. Maybe he’s a little hotter, and maybe I can feel the vague pulsing in his shaft just a bit better. It’s more the surrender, the acknowledgement that we’re doing something that could create another life. I thought it would scare me, but instead it seems like some kind of primitive instincts are coming to life as he thrusts into me, deeper and harder, the movements smooth and holding an even rhythm. I tuck my knees up under his arms, grab at his shoulders, pulling him toward me now instead of pushing him away.

I let my eyes open, not hiding from him anymore. He’s looking straight into my face, and I can’t read his expression at all. Maybe he’s lost in his own feelings, or maybe he’s just concentrating on what he’s doing. I can’t tell. From here, his face looks like a mask. There’s no smile, no warmth on his mouth or in his eyes. But when he thrusts, pushing harder now, a little faster, his jaw clenches.

“Nick.” It’s a whisper, not even a whisper. So soft I’m not sure he hears it at all. I don’t know why I say it. I want him with me, though, focused on me, not with his thoughts a million miles away. He seems to come back a little bit, his eyes a bit less distant. He reaches between us, working his hand down toward my clit.

His fingers find me, dragging through the slickness where I’m damn near dripping around his dick. It’s like setting a match to my body. The sensation spears straight up into my chest, and suddenly everything inside me explodes. I’m clenching on his bare cock, and I hear him make a strangled noise. He doesn’t come yet, though.

I’m coming, whether he’s ready to dive over the edge with me yet or not. It’s so intense my eyes go hot, as if I’m crying. I can’t even scream, or whimper, or do anything but stiffen, my mouth open and silent, staring at the ceiling as a giant fist of intense pleasure closes on my womb, my belly.

I can feel my thighs quivering. His fingers press hard against my clit, until it hurts, but he eases back then. He braces his hands on the mattress, and then he’s letting go. I can feel the heat as his come pours into me. His cock pulses inside me, and I clench down on it, making him gasp. I want to feel every pulsation, every explosion as he fills me.

His eyes fall closed. Reaching up, I grab his hair. “Look at me.” I’m not sure where the words come from; it just seems suddenly vital that he acknowledge me. “Look at me, dammit, Nick.”

He does. There’s haziness in his eyes, like he’s so consumed by his orgasm that he can’t quite focus. Then he comes back to himself a bit, and a vague smile curves his mouth. It’s that not-quite smirk that seems to be his natural expression. His head dips, and he kisses me. Thrusting again, his hips press hard against me. I can’t tell if he’s still shooting into me or not, but he stays there for a few long seconds before he finally lets the arch in his back relax with a slow release of breath.

“There,” he murmurs against my ear. “Now we wait.”

The zinging thrill of pleasure is fading from my skin, and again I remember exactly what I’ve promised him. And, very clearly, I realize it’s too late to change my mind.

#

“Where are you going?”

“I need to get some things for you.”

I decide not to argue with that. Hopefully by “things” he means clothes and such. I’d prefer not to spend the next week or whatever in Nick’s too-big shirt and these jeans that used to belong to somebody he doesn’t remember.

When he leaves, I walk around the room for a while and then go to the bathroom. It’s strange, feeling his come slide down my thighs when I get up. I feel almost guilty trying to get rid of it. Not that anything I’ve done will stop any particularly motivated sperm from doing their thing.

That’s not something I want to think about. I go back to the bed and lie back down, still naked. It occurs to me that I actually feel safe for the first time in a long time.

I drift off at some point then wake abruptly with the strong sense somebody’s looking at me. Somebody is. It’s Nick. He’s standing over the bed, watching me.

“That’s not creepy at all,” I tell him.

He smiles. “I was just taking you in.”

I push myself to a seated position, suddenly self-conscious about my lack of clothes. I grope for a blanket, but Nick shakes his head. “No. Let me look at you.”

My face goes hot, and I can’t look back at him. “What did you go to get?”

“Some clothes for you. We’re going out to dinner.”

My gaze jerks to his. “We are?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t…won’t somebody see us?”

“Yep. That’s the point.” He reaches down and slaps my ass. Not hard, but enough to make a sharp noise. “Get up. Let’s go. I’ve got reservations at Lloyd’s.”

Lloyd’s. Great. It’s the place everybody in Spada’s organization hangs out when they’re not in the mood for Italian. I’ve been there a couple of times with Sal, and I know it’ll be crawling with syndicate people. It’s also hella expensive and requires formal attire.

Reluctant, but knowing I don’t have much choice, I get out of the bed, pulling a sheet along with me and wrapping myself in it. Nick shakes his head a little, disapproving, but doesn’t make me take it off. “C’mon,” he says, and leads me out of his bedroom and to a room across the hall.

I go in when he gestures for me to precede him. It’s a nice bedroom, smaller than Nick’s room, which we just left, but it’s got a queen-size bed, what looks like a walk-in closet, and a big window that looks out over the city.

“This will be your room,” Nick tells me. “You can sleep here when I don’t need you in my room.”

I nod. It’s nice he wants me to have my own space, but… “Isn’t that a little weird? I mean, if we’re going to get married or whatever?”

“I figure it’ll take some time for us to get used to each other. If you have your own room, you can hide out when you need to be alone.”

Crossing the room, I take a seat on the bed. “That’s nice. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now…” He heads for the closet door. “I needed to get you something for tonight, so I went ahead and picked up some other things, too. I’ll take you out shopping later, so you can get whatever I forgot, or replace anything I got that you don’t like. C’mon.”

I get up, holding the sheet tight, and join him by the closet. It’s deep and big enough it could almost fit another bed. It’s looking a little sparse at the moment, but there are clothes hanging here and there and shoes in the shoe racks along the floor. I see two dresses, one of which is the one I wore yesterday. The other is bright red. There are also several shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, and two cardigans.

“That should get you started,” Nick tells me. “For tonight, I’d like you to wear the red dress.”

I nod. “What about underwear? Socks? That kind of thing?”

“There’s some in the chest of drawers. I didn’t get very many—I wanted to be sure I got the right size.”

“Thank you.” I actually mean it. There are so many ways he could have gone about this. This almost feels…homey. I can live with it. At least so far. “I’ll go ahead and get dressed, then.”

“Good. Let me know if anything doesn’t fit right.” He comes to me and takes my shoulders in his hands, kissing me gently. “I’ll be downstairs.”

He leaves, closing the door behind him. I go to take the red dress down from its spot in the closet. It’s similar to the dress I wore to my birthday party, but a bit more daring, the neckline plunging nearly to the waist. I slide carefully into it, adjusting as I go. It’s body hugging and sleek and, to my surprise, it’s exactly the right size.

Settled in the dress, I take a long look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. I look good, I have to admit, but at the same time I don’t want to leave the house in this. Because I can tell it’s all part of Nick’s agenda.

He wants us to be noticed.

And we are, from about five seconds after we walk in the front door of Lloyd’s. Nick hands a few bills to the maître d’, and we’re led to a table that’s far too centrally located for my tastes. There’s no way anybody will overlook us, here smack in the middle of the dining room, me in my bright-red dress and Nick smirking like he’s the cat that ate all the canaries.

I can feel attention shifting to us almost before we get seated. I stare fixedly at the menu, not daring to look up to see who might be watching, not even daring to look up at Nick.

Nick pulls the top of my menu down with one finger, smiling at me. “Don’t worry, Sarah. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”

Right. Trust him. What the hell was I thinking, letting him talk me into this craziness? I slide my eyes sidelong and see a couple of guys I’ve seen before at Sal’s place. They’re muttering to each other, then one of them pulls his phone out and starts poking buttons. It’s only a matter of time before everybody knows.

Including Sal.

“Do you know what you want?” Nick asks, pulling my attention back to him. “Or would you like me to order for both of us?”

I can barely see the words on the menu, I’m getting so worked up. I feel like I’m starting to hyperventilate. “You can pick.”

“All right, then. Steak or fish?”

“Fish.” I don’t think I could stomach a steak right now. I’m not even sure I can manage fish.

The waiter joins us, and Nick orders wine and some kind of appetizer. I’m not really listening. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s just waiting for Sal to walk in the door. I’m queasy, bile burning at the back of my throat. The slightest movement anywhere near the door makes adrenaline soak through me.

Nick, though, sweeps his gaze across the room and offers a smile and a nod to someone. He picks up his napkin, unfolds it, and lays it across his lap. I’ve never seen anybody so cool and collected. I take a long, slow breath, telling myself, if he can be calm then I can, too.

The waiter brings the wine, pours it, takes our food order, and departs. Nick lifts his glass, offering me a toast.

“To our new family,” he says.

And that’s when Sal shows up.

I see the ruckus starting out of the corner of my eye as I move my glass toward Nick’s. Automatically I glance that way. There are about four men near the front of the restaurant, holding on to Sal, who’s struggling with them. His jacket’s about half off, his tie askew as he tries to tear himself free. All eyes go toward him, even those that were overly focused on Nick and me just minutes earlier.

Sal finally starts calming down, gathering himself, as if he’s realized he’ll never get all the way into the restaurant if he doesn’t stop acting like a psycho. He exchanges words with the maître d’, who finally nods and waves to the men to let Sal go. Straightening his tie and shrugging his jacket back into place, Sal heads for our table.

I freeze. I don’t know what to do; I’m like a deer caught in the headlights. Sal’s calmer on the outside, but I can see the anger and the hatred in his eyes. His jaw is clenched. Automatically I shrink back, but Nick leans over the table and kisses me. “It’ll be okay,” he says and then stands, shooting his cuffs as he faces the oncoming Sal. He looks deadly calm. It’s sexy, and I can’t believe I’m thinking that way right now.

“Can I help you?” Nick asks, but Sal’s not looking at him. All the hatred in his eyes is focused right on me.

“Sarah, you need to come with me. Right now.”

Automatically my eyes go to Nick. Nick’s not looking at me—he’s looking at Sal—but the fact I turned to him seems to have lit another fuse on Sal’s temper. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, his gaze flicking from me to Nick and back again. One hand balls into a fist.

“She’s not going with you,” Nick tells him.

“I’m not talking to you, asshole,” Sal shoots back. He faces me again. “Come with me. Now. Or it’s over. All of it. And you know exactly what I mean.”

Yes, I do know exactly what he means. Still, I shake my head. “No.”

“No?” Sal actually laughs at me. “You’re telling me no?”

Nick moves very slightly, positioning himself almost between me and Sal’s line of sight. Protective. Regardless, I don’t feel safe.

“That’s what I heard her say. Now, maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not leaving without my
fiancée
.” Sal practically spits the word. It’s nothing but a term of ownership to him; it has nothing to do with any feelings he might have for me.

“She’s not your fiancée anymore, De Luca.” Nick crosses his arms over his shoulders and stands there, legs slightly apart, looking like a big, handsome brick wall. “She’s mine now. So you can turn around and get the fuck out.”

“Yours?” Sal’s almost screaming now. “
Yours
? Who the fuck do you think you are, Angelino? You saw me put a ring on her finger. You know better than to touch what’s not yours.”

“You see a ring on her finger now?” Nick is icy calm. Sal’s mouth hardens when he catches a glimpse of my bare finger. Self-consciously I fold my hands together, covering my ring finger. I haven’t thought much about what happened to the ring, but now I feel naked under Sal’s scrutiny.

Nick notices the exchange but keeps his focus on Sal. “Now, we’re trying to have a date here, and you’ve rudely interrupted.”

I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. It’s the restaurant manager, easing toward us, looking like he’d rather be trying to fish a dead rabbit out of a cage full of tigers. “Excuse me. Is something wrong? May I help either of you gentlemen?”

Sal wheels on him and shoves him, hard, with his forearm. The manager staggers back. “Yeah. You can get the fuck out of here and go mind your own fucking business, is what you can do.”

The manager loses his balance and falls backward into a table, where the patrons catch him and get him back onto his feet. He stares at Sal and Nick, obviously trying to figure out what to do. Behind him, the woman at the table pulls out her cell phone. I see her poking the screen; she’s calling 9-1-1.

Sal wheels back toward me, but Nick’s between me and him, and I’m happy to keep it that way. Fists clenched and half raised, Sal takes a stalking step toward Nick.