“Mr. DiMartino, welcome.”
The woman greeting me stood up from behind a wide desk, smiling. I judged her to be in her early forties, and she bore a strong resemblance to her mother, who was standing next to me, her hand on my arm.
“Vincent, dear, this is our daughter, Danielle, who runs the hotel part of the business. She handles all the personnel decisions, so she’ll be interviewing you today.” Midge Romano beamed at her daughter. “I already took Vincent on a little tour of our place here, darling. He met Al and checked out the kitchen. So now he’s all ready for you!”
Danielle indicated a chair across the desk from hers. “Please, have a seat. Mom, are you staying, or do you have something else to do?”
“Oh, no, I’ve got to run. I have a manicure appointment in twenty minutes.” Midge reached up to pat my cheek. “You have a nice chat, Vincent, and I hope we’ll see again very soon.” With a wink at her daughter, she trotted through the open door that led into the hotel’s quiet lobby.
“So, Mr. DiMartino—”
“Please call me Vincent. Or Vince.” I unbuttoned my jacket and sat down in the padded wooden chair.
“All right, Vincent—can I get you coffee or water?”
I shook my head. “Thanks, I’m good. Your mother made me try an espresso while we were in the kitchen.”
“That sounds like her. I assume, given what my dad told me about your background, that you’re familiar with the advantages and pitfalls of working with your parents when you’re a part of a big Italian family?”
Laughing, I nodded. “Just a little. It has its moments, that’s for sure.”
“Exactly.” She folded her hands loosely on the desk. “Vincent, I’ll be straight with you here. We never really considered hiring a full-time pastry chef here. We’ve contracted out our needs in that area, and I always thought it worked well. But then last year, my father came home from a trip to Atlantic City and began raving about this guy who worked at his family restaurant. He loved your desserts, and he brought up the idea of hiring you.”
“And that wasn’t something you needed to hear. It complicates your life.” I knew how all that went. I remembered all too well how Carl and I usually reacted when my dad came up with a big new idea for improving the restaurant. If it wasn’t broke, why fix it?
Danielle chuckled. “Well, let’s just say I was taken aback. But the more he talked, the more interested I became. We’ve been talking for years about making our restaurant more of a destination in and of itself, aside from only catering to our hotel guests and to event clientele. My mother loves the afternoon tea we offer, but she’s wanted to expand that for a long time. If we did, hiring a dedicated pastry chef makes sense. And although I know your experience has been limited to work at your own family’s restaurant, I like what I read about you. Your work has gotten some notice.”
I shrugged. “I love what I do, and that’s why I do it. It’s not about awards or recognition. Some people cure disease, others write music . . . I create desserts. It might not be one of life’s necessities, but it sure does make living nicer.”
“Absolutely.” Danielle straightened the blotter on her desk. “So let’s not waste any more time dancing around this. I knew before you came today that unless I found you obscenely unfit for working here in one sense or another, we were going to make you an offer. That’s because Dad wants you, and although Al and I do run this place now, Dad’s decisions are still the law. Not because he says so, but because we respect him enough to make it so.”
I wasn’t sure whether I felt relief, trepidation or excitement. Maybe all three at once. “Okay.”
She slid a large white envelope across the desk to me. “This is the offer. I know what we’re proposing isn’t going to happen overnight. We understand that you have strong ties to your hometown and to your family’s business, and we don’t want to come in the middle of family. But we’ve come up with some ideas, and they’re in here. I’d like you to take it home, look it over and then, if you have questions or concerns, give me a call and we’ll discuss them. Take your time. We don’t expect a decision tomorrow, or even next week.”
I tapped one finger on the envelope. “Thanks for understanding. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming in today. To be honest, I didn’t even tell my family about meeting your parents last year. It would have been . . .” I paused, picturing how my mother and father would have reacted to the idea of me even contemplating this move. “Well, you know. You work here. You can imagine.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I can, indeed.” She gave a mock-shudder. “I am curious about one thing, though. Is there any particular reason you called my dad last week, to set up this meeting? I only ask because . . .” This time, it was Danielle hesitating. “I would hate to think of you having a misunderstanding or a disagreement with your family and deciding to use our offer to make the break. We don’t want to be the job you’re taking to run away from something else. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I sat up a little straighter and spread my fingers over my knees. “It’s not that at all. I love my family, and most of the time, I love working with them. I have my hot buttons, like anyone else. There are things I would change, for sure. But no, I’m not looking to get away. It’s more that I’ve been considering how I could make a life in the city work.” I swallowed hard. I hadn’t planned to talk about this, but it was important that Danielle understood I wasn’t using this possibility to escape a bad situation. “There’s a woman I’m seeing . . .”
“Ah.” Her eyes lit up. “And she lives here?”
“Yeah. Yes, I mean.” I gazed out the window behind Danielle. “She’s in her last semester of law school at Penn. She doesn’t know where she’s going to practice after she passes the bar, but I think she’d like to stay in the city, since she has a part-time job with a firm here already.” Amanda and I didn’t talk about that part of our future much. But I had hunches, and I’d made assumptions. Why wouldn’t she want to stay here, living in her beautiful apartment, enjoying the life she’d made? She sure as hell wouldn’t want to move to a backwater small town like where I lived and worked.
“That sounds like this job might be just about perfect for you, then.” Danielle folded her hands. “It would be so much fun for the two of you to be in the same city, just starting out. I assume things are serious between you two?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I think so. It’s serious on my side, at least, and I think—well, we didn’t start out that way, but now, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” Ever. It shocked me to even think those words, but I’d realized more and more lately how true they were.
“Then I’d say we have a lot to offer you.” She inclined her head. “Take this home. Talk it over with your girlfriend. And discuss it with your family. Once you’ve come to a decision, give me a call, and we’ll meet again.” She rose to her feet, and I did the same.
“Thank you for your time.” I shook her hand. “I look forward to talking again soon.”
“So do I.” Danielle grinned at me. “I have a feeling we’re going to find that today is only the beginning of a very happy partnership.”
“Hey, handsome. Got room in there for a girl who’s down for a good time?” Amanda bent down to lean in the passenger side window of my car, grinning at me.
For a long moment, I just drank in the sight of her. She’d pinned her hair up tonight, and just a few rebellious tendrils dangled around her gorgeous wide eyes. The dress she wore had a modest neckline, but I could make out the shape of her breasts under the shimmery black material.
“I think I can make that happen.” I leaned over to open the door. “Hop in, baby. I’ll show you a good time.”
She laughed, and the sound went straight to my dick as it always did. But this time, it made my heart swell with gladness, too. Before I could help myself, I reached for her, curling my hand around the back of her neck and drawing her close to kiss those pretty pouting lips.
“Hey.” I brushed my thumb over her cheekbone. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you.” She smiled and kissed me once more. “You’re not bad yourself. Did you come right from the restaurant like that? I was surprised when you said you didn’t need to come up to change.”
I hadn’t told anyone about my visit to Casa de Romano—not my parents, not Carl and not even Amanda. I’d reasoned that until I knew more about what they had to say, it didn’t make sense to make a big deal out of it. And since we were on our way to a big night, I didn’t want to talk about it now. We’d have plenty of time later, I told myself.
“I had a meeting in the city this afternoon, so I came right from there,” I explained. It was the truth; it just wasn’t the whole story.
“Oh, cool. That was good timing, wasn’t it? So the trip into Philly to pick me up wasn’t completely wasted.”
“Hey, I was happy to come get you. We’re going to have fun tonight.” I eased into the lane of traffic, merging onto the street.
“Oh, Vincent.” Amanda shook her head. “Oh, my sweet summer child. One doesn’t have fun at political events. One merely survives them, if one is lucky.”
I hung a left at the corner. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It can be that bad and worse. And poor you, who can’t get totally wasted while we’re there, since you’re driving us home.” She reached over to squeeze my thigh, and my dick jumped in appreciation.
“That’s true. I’m sacrificing so much tonight, just so I can get you safely back to your apartment. I hope you’re planning to make it worth my while.”
“Babe, you can bet on it. Plus, I can just about guarantee I’ll be buzzed, so you can probably talk me into doing the really kinky stuff tonight.” Amanda raised her eyebrows.
“Wait, what really kinky stuff are we talking about here?” I slid her a side glance. “I thought we’d been doing the kinky stuff all along. Are you telling me there’s more?”
She trailed her finger up my thigh and closed her hand around my cock, almost making me veer off the road. “So much more, baby. So. Much. More.”
“Amanda, you made it.” Mrs. Simmons drew her daughter into a hug before she turned to me. “And Vincent. Look at you. Aren’t you looking hot tonight?”
“Mom.” Amanda rolled her eyes, grinning. “Please don’t objectify Vincent. It’s so not cool. Also, since he’s with me, it makes you sound a little creepy. A little Mrs. Robinson.”
Mrs. Simmons winked at me. “Coo-coo-ka-choo.”
“Hello, darling.” A tall, thin man with graying hair and a familiar smile joined us, leaning down to kiss Amanda’s cheek. There was just a trace of an accent in his voice.
“Daddy.” Amanda hugged her father. “I wasn’t sure you were going to be here.”
“Oh, I try to never miss one of the governor’s shindigs. Always such a good time.” Mr. Simmons winked at his daughter and then noticed me. “Kent Simmons. You must be Vincent. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Ah . . . nice to meet you, sir.” I shook his hand. I hadn’t expected to meet the father of the woman whose bed I was occupying with increasing regularity. “Depending on who was talking about me, don’t believe everything you hear.”
He laughed, and I realized why his smile seemed so familiar. Both that and his laugh were just like Amanda’s—or more accurately, hers were like his.
“It was all from my wife, and I can assure you that she is truthful and accurate to a fault. Also, she had only glowing reports of you. Particularly after you rushed to the city to care for our daughter when she was ill.” Mr. Simmons squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “Knowing you were with her set our minds at ease when we couldn’t be there.”
“Yes, Vincent was my very own Florence Nightingale.” Amanda slid her hand into mine. “Now that you’ve both done an admirable job of embarrassing me, we’re going to find the bar, so I can drink away that memory. We’ll catch up with you later.”
She dragged me away as I smiled a goodbye to her parents. “Shouldn’t we have hung with your mom and dad a little longer?”
“Nope.” Amanda shook her head. “They have the whole schmoozing thing to do, and we’d only be in the way of that. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later, because we’re sitting at the same table. So never fear. You’ll be able to get to know them, if that’s what you want.”
We crossed the large ballroom, wending our way through clumps of people who were standing together. I recognized a few faces from the news, the movers and shakers who were bigwigs in the state of New Jersey. A few called out greetings to Amanda, who smiled and nodded to acknowledge them, although she never stopped walking.
“These people know you? I mean—that was the attorney general over there. And he was talking to a United States senator. They called you by name.”
She sighed. “Yeah, I know them. My mother’s been in politics since I was in the womb. Most of them have known her since then, so yes, they’ve watched me grow up. We’ve been at holiday parties together . . . not to mention too many fundraisers to count. They’re like your aunts and uncles and cousins, in a way.”
“Hmm.” We stopped at the bar, and Amanda ordered her signature scotch, neat, before she turned to me.
“Want a beer? We’ll be here for a while, so you’ll have time for the effects to wear off before you drive.”
I shook my head. “I’ll stick with water for now, I think.”
The bartender nodded. “Sparkling or still?”
“Still, please.” I pulled out my wallet and tucked a couple of ones into the discreetly placed tip jar. “Thanks.”
With our drinks in hand, we began to circulate. I watched Amanda interact with various people, always introducing me as her friend, Vincent. As I paid attention, I began to be able to discern who were old friends and who were newer acquaintances, the ones who she was chatting up to help raise money for the party. There was a slight difference in the way she spoke to them, and I picked up on how she kept herself just slightly removed from those she didn’t know well.
At dinner, we sat with her parents and four people Amanda told me in a murmur were wealthy donors.
“So, Vincent.” One of the women, a well-preserved elderly lady, turned to address me. “What do you do?”
I cleared my throat, suddenly tense. This was the moment I’d worried about, when I’d have to admit that I wasn’t a doctor or CEO. I knew what I did for a living didn’t matter to Amanda or to her parents, but I didn’t want to embarrass them, either.
“I’m a pastry chef. I work in my family’s restaurant in Seagrove City—it’s down by the shore.”
“Oh!” She smiled, and her eyes brightened. “Now that’s lovely. I do love a man who can cook. Tell me about some of the desserts you make. My late husband Douglas used to cook, too—it was his hobby, and it brought us both great joy. I miss talking to him about that.”
I spent the next thirty minutes describing my favorite pastries and recipes to the lady whose rapt attention never left me. We were interrupted when the state police commissioner stopped by the table to speak to her, at which point the gentleman on the other side of her began asking me questions about Seagrove City, where apparently his family had had a house many years ago.
Just before the end of the evening, the governor came over to talk to us, kissing Amanda on the cheek as she introduced me to him. I played it cool, all the while thinking how surreal it was that I was here, hanging out with the people who ran our state.
“Vincent, you were brilliant tonight.” Mrs. Simmons pulled me in for a hug as the four of us left the hotel after the party was officially over. “You charmed Mrs. Sanders so much that she doubled the size of her usual contribution. I think we’re going to make you come to all of these and chat up the donors.”
Amanda wrapped her arm around my waist and laid her head against my chest. “Sorry, Mom. Vincent is not available to work your fundraisers . . . no matter how much the old ladies love him.”
Her mother laughed. “Maybe we could work out a compromise. You wouldn’t begrudge your mother and your governor the services of your boyfriend, would you, Amanda?”
Amanda cast me a quick glance, and I didn’t miss the slight panic in her eyes. “Mom, Vincent and I—we don’t—he isn’t—”
I ran my fingers down her arm and took her hand in mine. “Always happy to help, Mrs. S. I’d do anything for my girlfriend and her family.”
“You really won my mom over tonight. And my dad, too, because if my mother and I are happy, so is he.” Amanda balanced on one foot just inside her bedroom door, gripping the jamb as she slipped off first one high heel and then the other. I couldn’t help smiling when I saw her bend over to pick up both shoes and carry them to her closet. I’d noticed in the past few months that she’d become more conscientious about tidying up after herself. She made an effort to straighten up when she knew I was coming over. I never said anything, but I thought maybe that I was leading by example.
Not that it really mattered to me. Yes, Amanda could be a little careless at times, but it was actually kind of endearing, probably because she realized her own foibles. It was just one of her many traits that made me smile when I thought of them.
I caught myself. Jesus God, what in the hell was happening to me? When had I morphed from a guy who was cynical as hell about anything remotely resembling a relationship to the dude who thought it was adorable that his girlfriend left her dress on the floor?
And when had I seriously begun considering Amanda my girlfriend?
I didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, but as I watched her wriggle out of the dress and then reach back to unhook her bra, suddenly, none of that mattered.
She turned her head and smiled at me. Incredibly, I wasn’t looking at her tempting breasts; I was seeing her smile and the way she looked at me and the softness in her eyes. It wasn’t about the sex anymore or about how much I wanted her, which was still constant and intense; it was about her. Us.
“What’s that look for?” she asked, the smile still playing around her lips as she picked up her robe from the foot of her bed.
“I was just thinking that turnabout is fair play.” I reached for her hand, pulling her towards me so that I could wrap my arms around her and kiss her lips lightly. “Because you know, now that I’ve been out with your parents in the official capacity of your boyfriend, maybe it’s time for you to come to Sunday supper at the DiMartinos. If you’re up for it, that is. It’s not for the weak of heart or mind.”
Amanda stared at me, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I couldn’t figure out whether she thought that the invitation was a good thing or the scariest shit she’d ever heard.
“Are you sure about this? Inviting me to the Sunday family dinner seems like a really big deal.”
“I guess it probably is, but maybe you and I are a really big deal. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending that we’re not. I’m tired of having my life segmented into the Amanda parts and the family parts. It would be much easier if you were all one big part.”
Her green eyes gleamed teasingly. “I see. So, this is just a for your convenience, isn’t it? It has nothing to do with anything else.”
I nuzzled her neck. “Baby, you know by now that I’m a selfish son of a bitch. Of course, it’s all about me.”
“That’s what you want everyone to think, but I know better now.” She took my face between her hands and gazed up at me, making certain I was looking into her eyes. “Vincent, you’re the most giving, caring man I’ve ever met. You just try to hide it. I’m still not sure why, but you’re busted, babe. I’ve cracked the candy shell and tasted the sweet gooey center.”
What she said did something to my heart. I felt a little like that Christmas movie for kids, where the dude’s heart grows three sizes—only mine felt like it might be melting instead. Along with that came abject panic, because I’d never let anyone in this close to the part of me I protected so fiercely. I covered both feelings by trailing my hands down Amanda’s back to firmly grasp her ass, only covered in thin black lace.
“Yeah, you have, sweetheart, and if you’re up for it, I’d love for you to taste my center again right now.”
“I’m always ready and willing for that. Always. But don’t try to change the subject. I’m not asking you to change anything, and I don’t have an agenda. I just think it’s important for you to know that I see you—the real you. I see the parts of you that you don’t let anyone else near. And I like those parts.” She stretched to drop a kiss on my lips. “I think all of you is pretty terrific.”
Maybe sensing that I was processing her words, trying to figure out how to respond, she eased away from me and began to shrug into her robe. But I caught her hand again and held it between both of mine.
“Amanda.” My voice was thick. “I . . . thanks.”
She tilted her head. “For what?”
“For . . .” I swallowed. “For seeing me, I guess. For letting me be what I need to be. You kind of make it easy to just be. When I’m with you, I don’t feel like I have anything to prove, you know? Because you take all of me, and you accept it. I don’t have to be that guy—the one who’s the little brother, who can never make his parents happy enough, who has to keep pushing ahead. I can just be. You’re restful.”
With her free hand, Amanda brushed along the side of my cheek. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. But you give me way too much credit, because I don’t feel like I do anything special. Sometimes—” She swallowed and lowered her eyes to my chest. “I worry that I lean on you, and that you might not like it. I’ve never done that with anyone else, other than my mom. But you make me feel safe, like I can relax, and you’ve got me.”
“I do have you.” I released her hand to hold her close again. “I love that you lean on me, even though I know you can stand on your own, any time. I love that you let me see the side of you that’s . . . vulnerable. I love that you take me as I am. I love that you have to take off your shoes the minute we’re inside—no matter where we are. I love that you can’t go to sleep at night before you play solitaire on your phone, and I love that you’ve turned phone solitaire into some kind of competitive sport.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, but I wasn’t finished yet.
“I love that you can win any argument, because you have a way of using words and phrases that makes my head spin. I even love that you leave your clothes all over and that you get flustered when your room is messy.” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my ears, because I knew what I was about to say. I knew what it meant. And I couldn’t help myself, because it was true, and I wanted Amanda to hear it. I needed to say it, and I needed her to understand how deeply important it was.
“I love every part of you, Amanda. Because I love you.”
Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted. “You do?”
I nodded, and I waited for a beat, bracing myself for the tidal wave of regret I expected to feel. But it didn’t come. Instead, I only felt incredibly free and relieved—as though telling Amanda how I felt was the key that had unlocked a door I hadn’t realized I was holding shut.
“Vincent.” She breathed my name. “I’ve been beating myself up for months, because I was so sure that it was too soon to feel how I do for you. I thought I was crazy. Or maybe that I only thought I loved you because of how easy it is to be with you.”
“You think easy is bad?” I raised one eyebrow. “Isn’t easy supposed to be good?”
“It was more than that.” She shook her head. “When I think of loving you, I know I want more. More with you, I mean. I don’t want to be in love and only see you every two or three weeks. I want you in my bed every night. I want to see you in the mornings and eat with you every day. That feels impossible, so I convinced myself that loving you is impossible, too.”
“There’s where you’re wrong.” I skimmed my lips over her cheekbone, her jaw and the tip of her nose. “I don’t know for sure, but I think maybe love makes the impossible stuff happen.” I thought of my meeting with Danielle Romano today and envelope sitting on the backseat of my car even now. I still hadn’t mentioned anything to Amanda. I considered doing it now, but what we were talking about was too important to risk veering off course. Plus, I didn’t want her to think I’d finally owned up to loving her only because there was a better chance for us to be together.
She lifted her chin, her eyes glued to mine as she searched there for an answer she must have found. A sort of peace settled over her face, and she reached up to link her hands behind my neck.
“I love you, Vincent. I didn’t expect to love you, because you’re completely unexpected and not at all the type of man I thought I’d end up loving. But you’re you, and I love everything about you. I love your grumpiness, and the glint in your eye when I tease you out of it. I love when we’re walking together, and you suddenly grab my hand, like you just remembered I was there and you want to keep me close. I love when we’re driving, and a song you like comes on, and you sing along. I love that your family is important to you, and that you like my mother, and that you can cook me foods I can’t even pronounce. I love you, Vincent, and I don’t even know all the reasons why. I just know I do.”
For a long moment, we stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, our gazes locked, until a sudden and inexplicable joy bubbled within me, and all I could do was scoop Amanda into my arms and kiss her breathless.
“I love you, babe. I won’t ever be able to tell you how much, but I can show you.”
A bright smile curved her lips. “I’m very difficult to convince, you know. You might have to show me more than once.”
I threw back my head and laughed. “Baby, I love how your mind works.”
Amanda nuzzled my neck, inhaling deep. “I love how your body works. And how my body works with yours.”
Using one finger, I slid her robe down until it caught at her elbows and billowed there, leaving her bare to me but for the green lace of her panties. So often when we were together, we were frantic and frenzied, eager to make up for the time we’d missed. We could barely keep our hands off each other, tearing away clothes and plunging together, taking it all fast and furious. If we ever did anything slowly, it was when we were both half-asleep, drowsy as we drifted off at night or came awake in the morning.
But now, I realized that I wanted more than fast and frenzied. I wanted slow and intentional and sensual and tantalizing touches that left Amanda no choice but to feel how much I loved her. I didn’t want her to have a sliver of doubt about that.
With the lightest of caresses, my lips traveled down her neck. With a sigh, Amanda let her head drop back, lolling and giving me better access. I bent, kissing her collar bone and down the center of her chest. Her hands raked through my hair.
“Vincent.” My name was a prayer, a breath.
“Amanda.” I nudged her backwards until her legs met the edge of the mattress. She sank down into the bed, and keeping my eyes on her as she lay back, I toed off my shoes, unbuttoned my shirt and shrugged it off and then shed my pants.
When I climbed alongside her, she turned her head to gaze up at me. “Do you know what a beautiful man you are?”
I smirked. “Not sure anyone has ever accused me of that one, babe.”
“But you are. Every line of your body . . . every muscle and movement . . . it’s almost poetic in its beauty. You move like a tiger.”
“Hmmm.” I braced myself above her. “Maybe I am. A tiger, I mean.” I leaned down and fastened my mouth around one pink nipple. “Tigers, you know . . . they’re known for their prowess. And one thing you should remember. Tigers show no mercy. Ever.”
“Mercy, huh?” Amanda’s lips curved. “Are we flashing back to that very first night? The time when you begged me to have mercy on you?”
“Funny you should mention that. Because tonight it’s your turn. Now lay still and get ready to beg.”
I didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, I shifted to her other breast and sucked hard on the nipple. She groaned and arched.
“Tell me, baby. What does it feel like when my tongue circles you here? When my teeth . . .” I fastened them lightly and scraped upward. “When they do that, does it make your pussy wet and aching for me?”
Amanda gripped my neck. “Yes.”
“Good.” I slipped my fingers between her legs and found that she was telling the truth. “Mmmm. You feel good here.” Even as I explored her silken folds, I didn’t touch her clit. Instead, I touched everywhere else but there, smiling a little when she gave a small cry of frustration.
“You smell good, too.” I shifted so that my mouth was over her stomach, pausing to kiss her navel and the hollows of her hips. “Like . . . spring flowers. And sunshine. And sex.” I began to move as though I was about to be where she wanted me, lying between her legs, but at the last minute, I changed direction and instead, kissed the smooth skin of her thigh and worked my way down the length of her leg.
“Vincent. God, please.” She lifted her leg, like she was trying to steer me in the direction she wanted.
“Please is getting close, but it’s not the word I’m waiting to hear.” I sat up and bent her leg so that I could maneuver my mouth to the back of her knee. “You’re so soft right here.” When she shivered, I grinned. “And sensitive, too, huh?”
“Yes.” She wriggled and reached for me. “Come here so I can touch you, too.”
“Not yet.” I lifted her other leg and gave it the same treatment. “We’re not in a rush, Amanda. Tonight . . . it’s all about slow, because we have the don’t need to be fast. We’re not hurrying through this. I want you to feel me and to remember every touch, every pleasure I give you.”
“I don’t think I’m likely to forget. Especially not if I end up combusting out of frustration.”
“We can’t have that.” I gave in—or seemed to—and settled at the apex of her legs, slinging one thigh over my shoulder. “Is this what you need, baby?” Dropping my mouth to her center, I licked her seam, one hard and hot stroke, and then I sucked her clit between my lips. Amanda gasped and hummed, encouraging me to go on with every small nonsensical sound issuing from her throat.
But when I knew she was close to exploding, I backed off, using my hands to tease lightly over her hips and up her ribcage.
Amanda groaned and lifted her head. “What the fuck are you doing? I was so close. I was about to come.”
“Were you, now?” I blew on the crease at the top of her leg where her muscle tensed. “Hmmm.” I pushed up to sit on my haunches, looking down her body, and took my cock into one hand. “That’s frustrating, isn’t it? When you’re right there . . . right on the edge of pleasure . . . just about to dive over into your climax . . . but you can’t quite get there, because the other person won’t touch you where you need it most.” Almost absently, I gave my erection a few hard pulls. “When it feels like you might die if he doesn’t do what you need—right now.”
“Vincent.” Her tone was almost threatening and bordered on hysterical. “Vincent, for the love of—”
“Now this feels fucking good.” I pumped myself a few more times. “I’m hard. Hard and long and ready for action. I could slide into you, stretch you, make you feel every inch of me. I could fuck you so hard, I drive you absolutely insane. I could make you scream my name.”
“Vincent!”
“Yeah, just like that.” I nodded.
“Please, Vincent.” She made a mad grab for my hand.
“One word, babe. One word, and I give us both what we want.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips opened to form the word I was dying to hear. And then I saw something else wash over her face—a sort of tenderness and joy. Instead of begging for mercy, she touched my knee, the only part of my body she could reach, and she murmured four soft words.
“I love you, Vincent.”
It killed me. It absolutely destroyed me that she’d been smart enough and observant enough to know that there was a way to get around crying uncle, and she’d found it.
“I love you, Vincent, and I know you love me. And I know you’d never deny me what we both want. Not when this is so much more important tonight than just proving who can hold out longer.”
Damn. I swallowed and stared into eyes that gleamed with both challenge and trust. Would I stand firm and make her give in . . . or would I be the man she believed I could be?
It wasn’t even a choice.
I eased up her body until my face hovered over hers and angled my head to kiss her, my lips soft and coaxing. Amanda’s hands circled me, her fingers playing against my spine. With one hand, I teased at her nipple until she squirmed beneath me, and then, holding onto my dick, I rubbed the head into her slickness.
“Because I love you, babe, I want us both to feel good.” I slid into her just a little, and it was so incredible that for a heady minute, I didn’t realize what I’d done. When I did, I hissed in a breath between clenched teeth.
“Fuck. I need a condom.”
“No.” Amanda held my face between her palms. “Not for me. Vincent, I’m on birth control. And I trust you. I want this. Don’t leave me. Not now.”
“Not ever.” No woman had ever trusted me this way, and I’d never wanted to trust one, either. This was a first, and it wasn’t something I took lightly. I kissed her again, and as my tongue stroked against hers, I thrust the rest of the way into her. “Never going to leave you, baby.”
She cried out and rose to meet me, to match the rhythm I set. All of my intentions for making this last, for taking it slow, fled as pleasure built between us. I ground the base of my cock against her clit, and Amanda dug her nails into my ass, urging me on.
“Amanda . . . babe. I love you.” I mumbled the words, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. “Love you.”
When she arched into me, muscles tensed as she cried out my name, I couldn’t hold back a minute longer. With a final plunge, I emptied myself into her, shuddering when I felt the spasms of her inner channels against my cock.
“God.” Amanda was breathing heavily as I fell onto the bed next to her, rolling so that we faced each other. “Vincent, that was . . . maybe I didn’t beg for mercy, but I would’ve.”
“No more begging.” I brushed back her hair. “This—what’s between us when we’re together, when we make love—that’s what it is. It’s not about power or who can hold out longer or who comes more than the other. It’s about what we give each other, and what we receive. Making you happy and giving you pleasure is all I want.”
She studied me, her eyes wide and serious. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out, you go and blow my mind all over again.”
“No one’s more surprised than me. I never planned on this. I never planned on you.”
“Am I a good surprise?” Amanda tilted her head. “Or do you ever wish you’d never walked up to me at the engagement party?”
“Never. No regrets. You’re the best kind of surprise.” I kissed her forehead. “You’re the kind of gift that makes me a better man than I’d ever hoped to be. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”