She was more beautiful than I’d remembered.
I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but it was the first thought that popped into my head when I spotted Amanda standing in the church after the ceremony, as I walked out behind the rest of my family. She was sitting next to an older woman who I figured had to be her mom. I wanted to stop and say something, to touch her in some way, but it wasn’t the time or the place—not with people pushing along behind me and everyone standing around us.
Once I reached the narthex, I had instant regret that I’d promised my mother I’d go right to the restaurant. If I’d stayed, I would’ve been part of the receiving line and could’ve seen Amanda. But there wasn’t any way I could back out now, so I stalked past all the hugging, squealing women, left the church and drove to Cucina Felice in record time.
The staff we’d left to finish the set up and prep had done an excellent job. There wasn’t much for me to do, other than to supervise a few final details. I’d only been there about fifteen minutes when the first guests showed up—and from that point on, I never stopped moving.
I knew the minute Amanda and her mother arrived, and I snuck glances at their table every once in a while. She was gorgeous, even though her blatant sexy vibe was a little toned down tonight. Her dress was a deep green that set off her dark hair, with a scoop-neck that hinted at the full breasts that I knew were beneath the silky material. It nipped in at the middle, and then it stopped about halfway down her thighs, displaying her legs, which were covered by black stockings.
Now, being a man’s man, I tried not to think about chick clothes. Hell, I didn’t think much about my own clothes, other than knowing that they fit me and were relatively clean. But I also grew up with two sisters, which meant that I knew about shit like stockings and bras—more than just how to get them off a woman. So instantly, when I saw Amanda’s legs, I started wondering if she was wearing pantyhose or stockings and a garter. Just the thought of either of those options sent all the blood in my body racing for my dick.
But as much as I wanted to go over and talk to her, I wasn’t off the unofficial family clock yet. The food was still coming out of the kitchen, and for a solid hour, it felt like everyone needed something, whether it was my elderly great-aunt wanting a coffee refill or my cousins asking for extra gravy for the macaroni. I never stopped moving.
I avoided getting close to the table where Amanda and her mother sat with Liam’s mom, her boyfriend, and Giff and Jeff. Once I had a moment to talk with Amanda, I didn’t want to have to rush off.
There was also the fact that I was still debating how to handle the complicated feelings I had about this woman. Over the last week or so, I’d begun to convince myself that she wasn’t that special, that the chemistry between us hadn’t been so incredibly hot. It was only that she was different than my normal hook-ups. Or maybe it was the whole thing about absence and the heart growing fonder. Whatever the case, I’d just blown it all out of proportion. The sex couldn’t have been as mind-blowing as I’d remembered, could it? It was only because I’d broken a dry spell. If we made the mistake of indulging ourselves again, we’d probably be disappointed.
As soon as I’d seen her, all of those rational arguments had vanished like smoke in the wind. I felt a crazy pull toward this woman, the kind of attraction that made a mockery of any attempt to explain it away.
If I’d seen in her eyes that she didn’t feel the same, that she wasn’t having the same internal struggle, I might’ve been able to ignore how I felt. But the raw and naked want I’d seen in her gaze couldn’t be denied. She wanted it as badly as I did. It was just a matter of timing now.
I’d loved every second of sparring with her, egged on by her mother and Giff. For a moment, she’d been a little off her game after blurting out that she loved my cookies. But then she’d come right back, giving me as good as she got, reminding me of what a firebrand she was, and I wanted her all the more.
Now, somehow, I’d persuaded her to dance with me. She was in my arms, even if it was only for one song, and we moved around the dance floor in a small circle as Harry Connick sang an old Frank Sinatra song.
“Do you like old music like this?” It was the first time either of us had spoken since I’d drawn her close to me.
She hesitated. “I don’t mind it. It’s perfect for dancing on a night like tonight, you know? But if I were out for a drive—”
“In the car that’s in storage at your parents’ house?” I couldn’t resist the tease.
“Yes,” she agreed. “In that car. Did I mention that it’s a 1966 Mustang convertible?”
“Holy God. Are you kidding me? No, you didn’t mention that. How on earth did you come by a car that sweet?” I could just picture her driving with her hair whipping in the wind.
“It was my grandfather’s, and then it was my mom’s. And then it was mine.” Her hands were linked together behind my neck as we swayed, and her fingers feathered through my hair there. “When I got my license and the car came to me, my dad had some of the safety features updated to appease my mother and put in a brand-new audio system to make me happy.”
“Nice.” I gave into the temptation and touched her ass, just below where my hand dangled. “So what kind of music plays from that brand-new audio system?”
“On a spring day, it might be . . . The Gaslight Anthem. The 59 Sound. If it’s just the start of summer, say mid-June, it’s got to be Springsteen.”
“Without doubt,” I agreed. “Classic Jersey tunes.”
“Thunder Road would be my go-to. And in July, when I drive down the shore, and the sun’s setting, the only thing I want to hear is Jersey Girl.”
“Awwww . . .” I threw my head, grinning. “That’s perfect. There’s just something about that song, the way Bruce kills it . . . yeah, I can see it.”
Her answering smile lit up her entire face. “What about you? What do you like to listen to when you’re cruising the back roads of the pine barrens with your arm around some sweet honey?”
“Some sweet honey?” I snickered. “I don’t take women out for long drives, sweetheart.”
“Not even if it might lead to wicked nookie later on?” She quirked an eyebrow at me suggestively.
“Not even that. I hook up with chicks who want the same thing I do, so we don’t need to waste time on things like romantic rides.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes you come off like a real asshole, Vincent, do you know that?”
“Not only do I know it, I own it.” I rubbed small circles on her lower back. “Look, I’m not as bad as I might seem. I’m not a dick. I’d never disrespect women—the ones who raised me would smack my head if I did. I never take advantage of them, either. I’m upfront about what I want—you know that, because I didn’t lie to you the night of Ava’s engagement party. We knew what we were doing, didn’t we?”
“I thought we did,” she murmured. “But if we were both so clear about it, what are we doing now?”
“Exploring other options?” I wasn’t sure exactly what I meant. “Or just dancing. Dancing is good.”
“Dancing is very good. But we’re not just dancing. We’re dancing together after we slept together.” When I started to interrupt to correct her, she shot me a glare. “Okay, after we had sex. We’re not just two people flirting at a wedding. We have a history. It might be a brief history, but it’s still there. We had sex with no intention of it going anywhere.”
“Who says it’s going somewhere?”
Amanda shook her head a little. “Your hand on my ass says that.”
“Really? What does my hand on your ass say?” I traced the tantalizing curve lightly, grateful for the dim lighting that let me be a little more daring than I might have been otherwise.
“It says you expect a repeat tonight of what happened between us before.” She leaned back a little to look up at me. “Doesn’t it?”
I frowned. “I don’t know yet. I don’t have a game plan here, Amanda. I didn’t intend to want to see you again.”
“If we hadn’t both been here at the wedding, would you have tried to see me again? Would you have cared?” She studied me.
“I have no idea, because I knew I would. When I left your apartment that morning, we talked about the wedding.” I was quiet for a minute. “But if I’m being honest . . . yeah, I think I would have wanted to call you. I would have thought about you, just like I have been. I didn’t want to, but I did.”
“Did you ever think that maybe it’s because of the wedding? You know, like, what’s between us seems like more than it is, because we met at the engagement party, and now we’re at a wedding.” Someone bumped into us, and Amanda pressed closer to me, her breasts crushing into my chest.
“You mean you think the romance is contagious? That’s bullshit. I’ve been going to weddings as long as I can remember. Big family, lots of cousins getting married. I’ve met women at some of them, and sometimes, I’ve had sex with those women. I’ve never wanted to see any of them again after. I didn’t care. I can’t even remember their names.”
“You’re not making a case for your lack of assholeryness,” Amanda remarked.
“Not trying to.” I shrugged. “I’m just explaining to you why the fact that we met at a wedding isn’t why I like you.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You like me?”
“Of course, I like you. I liked you the first night we were together. Didn’t you like me?” I stopped moving for a minute, staring down at her, waiting.
“Yes.” She didn’t sound sure. “I did. I do. I’m not really sure why, though. I’ve never known anyone like you, Vincent. You’re kind of outside my norm, and you’re definitely outside my comfort zone.”
“Mmmmm.” I really liked that idea. “Why? What makes me so different?”
“I don’t know that, either.” Her voice held a hint of frustration. “That’s been bothering me for a while. I don’t want to think it’s because . . .” She trailed off, and a slight frown wrinkled her forehead.
“Because I’m outside your social class?” I suggested. “Because I’m not one of the guys you’ve known forever—dudes who went to school with you, who know all the same people, who’re going to end up in fancy executive jobs?”
“I considered that,” she admitted. “I wish I could say definitively that the answer is no—that I don’t divide people up that way in my mind. I try not to.”
“You’re not a snob, babe.” I spoke absently, paying more attention to Amanda’s obvious discomfort than to my own words. Her eyes flickered up to me, filled with surprise and what I thought might be pleasure.
“I don’t think I am.” Her mouth twisted into a small grin. “I guess no one likes to think she is, but I didn’t ever choose friends according to their family’s social status or how much money they had. I didn’t intentionally hang out with people who didn’t have money, either. It was always about the person himself. Or herself.”
I thought for a minute. “Who would you say your best friends are?”
“Giff and Liam,” she answered without hesitation. “I have other people I enjoy spending time with, but I’ve known them the longest. They know me the best.”
“Okay. Liam fits into the category of having money and status. But didn’t Giff come from a different kind of background?”
She nodded. “Yeah. His dad ran out when Giff was a baby, and his mom worked three or four jobs at a time to keep them afloat. Giff was at St. Ursula’s on scholarship. He didn’t live the same kind of life that Liam and I did, and we always knew that. It didn’t make a difference, though.”
“Point made.” The music changed, shifting into a dreamy Norah Jones song. I didn’t risk losing Amanda’s attention by offering her the option to stop dancing. “You’re not a snob. If you’ve mostly dated boys—men—who fit a certain stereotype, that could be just proximity and availability. It’s like people who grew up only eating a certain kind of food. It might be because they actively prefer it, or it could be that their family only presented them with limited options. Or they lived in a place where other kinds of foods weren’t available.”
Amanda smirked. “You’re comparing my choices in men with food deserts?”
I gave a silent whistle. “You know what a food desert is? Impressive.”
“Hey, I know stuff. I minored in social sciences for my undergrad.” She moved her fingers over the small patch of skin between my hair and the collar of my shirt, and I shivered. “You could be right. I might’ve ended up with men who were easy and familiar because I’m lazy. It also could be that those guys—they’re easy. They don’t ask much of me. I don’t have to invest much. I can phone it in, and they’re okay with that.”
“That sounds incredibly boring. And sad.” I eased her just a little closer to me, so that her hips bumped against mine. “Why do you waste your time with that? With them?”
“Probably because they’re also safe. My last long-term boyfriend . . . calling him that was a real stretch. We were together because it was convenient. When he graduated and moved to the west coast, I tried to dredge up some real emotion, some sadness, but it just wasn’t there. That’s kind of pathetic, you know?” She ran one hand down my spine to rest on my waist. “That’s why you’re different, Vincent. You matter. Or you could, potentially. That’s why you scare the absolute hell out of me.”
We’d stopped moving, and in the shadows at of the edge of the dance floor, we simply stood, gazing at each other.
“I don’t want to scare you, Amanda.”
“Then what do you want, Vincent?” The question was a mere whisper.
“I think . . . I’m probably crazy, because what I want scares the shit out of me, too.” I used my finger to brush one dark strand of hair off her forehead. “I told you, I don’t do girlfriends.”
“I remember.”
“And the idea of trying a relationship is terrifying.”
“It seems like a bad idea, doesn’t it?” Wistful pain tinged her voice.
“The worst.” I nodded. “I’m not like you. Your apartment is twice the size of my place. You’re going into a profession that will probably let you earn three times what I do. You know the governor.”
“And I live in another state, over an hour away from you. You’re here, working at your family’s restaurant. That’s not going to change any time soon.”
I thought about Peter Romano’s card, still in my pocket. “What if it did?”
Her green eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
I lifted one shoulder. “I’m talking in hypotheticals. If I didn’t live ninety miles away, would it change things?”
Amanda exhaled. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me, Vincent. I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
My heart was beating loudly in my own ears. “I told you I didn’t want a girlfriend or a relationship, but maybe that wasn’t exactly . . . accurate. I don’t want those things in general. But when I think about it with you, it’s maybe not so bad.”
She gave a short huff of laughter. “Please, Vincent, stop it with the sweet talk. You’ll make me swoon.”
I swallowed and tried again. “What I meant to say was that I never wanted to be in a relationship before, because I never met anyone who made me want that. You do. Or at least you make me brave enough to want to try it.”
Her lips parted slightly. “I do?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I’ll probably suck at it. You might end up hating me. Shit, I don’t even know how to be someone’s boyfriend. I’ll warn you now—I don’t do romance. I don’t bring flowers or play your favorite song for you all the time. I’m never going to be the guy who writes you poetry. Also, we might find out that we’re too different, or that we don’t like each other, once we get better acquainted. But I’m still willing to see what happens.”
She closed her eyes. “We already know the sex works. We know we have crazy chemistry.”
I spread my fingers a bit to cover her ass, fitting her a little closer to me. “There’s no denying that. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night—how you felt under me. How you looked when you were on top of me and when you were between my legs with your mouth on my dick. I have dreams about licking you and how your voice sounded when you were about to come all over my tongue.”
By the flush on her cheeks and the way her chest was rising and falling, I knew she was reliving those memories, too. “But this—whatever it is between us, Vincent, if we’re going to make it about more than sex, we have to want the same things. If you only want to fuck me again, then tell me now. If friends with benefits is what you’re looking for from me, say it. Don’t try to sugar-coat this.”
I captured her hand and drew her back into a dark corner, away from the dance floor and the tables. “It’s not just sex. I think I want more than that.” I almost couldn’t believe the words tumbling out of my mouth, but somehow, I meant them. Cupping her cheeks between my hands, I lowered my head and touched her lips with mine. “I’m probably certifiably insane for saying this, but we can take it slow when it comes to sex. We can take our time, hold off until it feels right. Again.”
Amanda tilted her head. “You don’t want to fuck me?”
“More than I want to keep breathing.” I answered her swiftly. “Don’t have any doubts about that. I want to take you back to my place and bang you seven ways to Sunday. I’ve already figured out I could have you there, naked and under me, in about fifteen minutes. But if it’ll convince you that I’m serious about trying something new, I’d be just as happy to drive you to Ocean City and drop you off at your hotel instead.”
“Just as happy?” She laughed softly. “Seriously?”
I amended my statement. “Okay, almost as happy. I’d be almost as happy to drive you to the hotel and kiss you goodnight before I leave you there. And then go home and beat off to the memory of you riding me hard, your tits swinging in my face . . .”
“I understand. I see where you’re going with this.” She toyed with the button on my jacket. “You’re right that we’re probably crazy. I mean, I’m about to launch into my last semester of law school, and then I’ll be buried for months, studying for the bar. We won’t be able to see each other very much. I can’t just take off and come down here every weekend. You can’t drive into the city all the time, either.” She lifted her eyes to me. “But when I think about not trying, I want to curl up in a ball and cry. So maybe that means something.”
My stomach was twisting into a knot, nerves beating the hell out of me, but at the same time, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. “You know what they say—nothing ventured, nothing gained. I’ll venture, if you will.”
A slow smile spread over her face, and while I didn’t miss the apprehension there, I also saw something else. It made me believe that maybe, crazy as it seemed . . . maybe I could do this. Maybe we could.
The back roads between Cucina Felice and Ocean City were dark as my car sped along them. It was after midnight, and the night was clear and cold. Out here in the boondocks, the stars above us were an infinite blanket set in the pitch black of the enormous sky.
Amanda had reclined the passenger seat flat and lay there now, staring through my car’s moon roof.
“Do you think anyone saw us leaving together?” She hadn’t spoken for several minutes, and I’d thought maybe she’d fallen asleep.
“Most everyone had left by the time we did,” I pointed out, my eyes fastened on the way before me. It wasn’t unusual for deer or other forest critters to run into the road at this time of night. Hitting an animal was the last thing I needed just now.
“Giff and Jeff know. I had to tell them that I didn’t need a ride back.” She shifted a little, and her dress rode up her thigh, making my fingers long to tease along the hem. “But Ava and Liam had left already, so we don’t have to worry about them.”
“Are you worried?” I frowned. “Why does this need to be such a secret? Are you embarrassed at the idea of anyone knowing that we’re . . . whatever this is? Seeing each other?” I remembered how careful she’d been the night of the engagement to make sure no one found out about our hook-up. I’d thought that was because it was just sex, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“I’m not embarrassed.” She spoke slowly. “I just think we don’t need the pressure of other people’s expectations. If we make a big deal about seeing each other, exploring our options, some people are going to jump to conclusions. They’ll start asking us questions that we might not be ready to answer. I don’t think we need that.”
“I guess I see your point. I don’t usually advertise my private life anyway, so it’s not a big deal for me. But I’m not sure I like the idea of us sneaking around.” In a family like mine, keeping a secret wasn’t easy. And my mother was like the KGB; she could suss out hidden knowledge and make me talk before I even knew what I was doing.
“We won’t be sneaking around. I’m only saying that maybe we should be selective about how much we say and to whom we say it. At least at first.”
“All right. But when my mother asks me what’s going on between us, I’m not lying to her. The woman is crazy perceptive, and she’ll beat me if I don’t tell her the truth. Or worse, she’ll cut me off from Sunday supper.” That wasn’t true, of course; my mother would never not feed one of her children, or anyone else’s child, for that matter.
“Fine. And my mom will probably figure it out, since she’ll ask me who drove me back tonight. But she’s pretty chill about keeping things between us.”
“I like your mom,” I remarked. “She’s not like I expected her to be. I thought she’d be all stuffy, since she’s in politics. But she’s pretty laid back. And she looks too young to have a daughter who’s your age.”
Amanda laughed. “I’ll tell her that, and she might want to date you herself.” She played with the edge of her dress, folding it up into a tiny accordion pleat that showed even more of her black-stocking covered leg, making it harder for me to concentrate on my driving. And that wasn’t the only thing getting harder.
“Amanda.” My voice was rough. “Can I ask you a question?”
She rolled to her side to look up at me, and the neckline of her dress gaped as her boobs pressed together. Sweet mother Mary.
“Of course. You can ask me anything.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you wearing pantyhose or a garter? It’s been killing me all night, looking at your legs and wondering. I know I won’t get to find out for myself tonight, so humor me. Give me something for the spank bank.”
“Hmmmm.” One of her eyebrows quirked up. “Which would you find more . . . interesting?”
“Oh, come on,” I groaned. “Don’t make me choose. Just tell me.”
“What if I said neither?” Her fingers curled around the end of her dress, and slowly she began tugging it up. “I don’t like pantyhose. And garters can be uncomfortable sometimes. So when I have to wear stockings, I like . . . these.”
The green material moved out of the way to reveal a wide band at the top of the sheer black hose, which gave way to her creamy skin and then a hint of red lace.
Suddenly, my driver’s seat wasn’t so comfortable.
“You trying to kill me? Jesus God, woman. Look at you.”
“Sorry?” She sounded anything but.
I scowled, but a plan began to form in my mind. At the next intersection, I hung a sharp left and floored the gas, hugging the curves that took us off the main road and closer to the beach.
“Where are we going?” Amanda pushed up onto her elbows and peered out the window. “This doesn’t look like how Mom and I drove down from the hotel.”
“It’s called a detour, sweetheart.” When she tilted her head questioningly, I added, “Don’t worry. I’m not dragging you off into the woods for a quick fuck.”
“That’s a relief. I think.” She took a deep sniff, frowning a little. “Are we close to the ocean?”
“Yep.” I pulled into a small dirt lot. “This is Dawman’s Cove. Carl and I used to come down here sometimes to fish when we were kids. Well, more than kids . . . after Carl got his license and could drive us. It’s quiet, and not that many people come down here.” I turned off the car and stuck the keys in my jacket pocket. “C’mon.”
“Wait. Where are we going?” Amanda scrambled to sit up. “Vincent, it’s fucking cold out there. I don’t have a coat or anything. Just this little wrap. I’m going to freeze.”
“I’m not going to let that happen, baby.” I jogged around the car and tugged her out of her seat. “We won’t stay out here long. I just . . . I want to kiss you under the stars tonight. I want to hold you in the dark and hear the ocean pounding and believe in crazy things like eternity and forever.”
Her eyes were luminous as she closed her fingers around mine. “Vincent, just when I think you’re one thing, you shock the hell out of me and make me realize you’re something else.”
I laughed. “Don’t give me too much credit. I’m just not sure I’ll make it back home tonight in one piece after seeing what’s under your dress, and I need something to tide me over, since I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to see you again.”
She hesitated only a second before I knew she’d acquiesced. Keeping my hand firm on hers, I led her through the dark, down the uneven wooden plank walk until we were on the edge of the small secluded beach.
“Tide’s high,” I observed. “Plus, if I make you walk on the sand, you’ll break your ankle in those shoes.”
“You’re probably right.” She was breathless. “It’s so dark and quiet here. If it were summer, we could go skinny dipping.”
The image of Amanda dancing naked in the waves was enough to push me over the edge. I wrapped my arms around her, pressing her body against mine until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. With one hand, I gathered the skirt of her dress up until her leg was bared. My fingers skimmed over the top of her stocking and then under the lace of her panties.
“Vincent.” She moaned my name. “What’re you doing?”
“Making a new memory for you, baby. I want you to remember how good we can be. Once you get back to the city and return to your real life tomorrow, you’re going to start to second-guess everything we talked about tonight. You’ll began to doubt what we said. I figure maybe I can give you a reason to believe in me.”
Bending my head, I covered her lips, tasting what I’d been craving for the past three months. Her tongue met mine, and as I stroked the inside of her mouth, I dragged my fingers over the wet and swollen folds between her legs. Her breath hitched, and she canted her hips to rock into my hand.
“God, Vincent.” She mumbled against my lips. “What do you do to me?”
“I make you feel good, babe.” My thumb pressed into her clit, and she cried out, gripping my shoulders and letting her forehead drop onto my chest. “I’m going to fuck you with my fingers, right here, and you’re going to come hard.”
She made some kind of undecipherable noise that was either consent or denial, but she didn’t pull away from me. I slid two fingers inside of her and pumped them hard, gritting my teeth as my cock grew painfully hard beneath the zipper of my fly.
“Vincent.” She was grinding into me now, her eyes closed and her lips open as she chased the pleasure. “God, oh god. Can you—god, harder. Right—right there.” With sharp gasp, she arched her neck, her legs stiffening and locking my hand where it was. I slowed the movement of my fingers, but I didn’t pull them away until she sagged against me.
“Are you cold?” I murmured into her ear as I held her tighter.
She shook her head. “I don’t feel anything right now except pure and unfiltered bliss. I think maybe I’m floating.”
I chuckled. “That good?”
“Mmmmm.” She hummed and lay her head on my shoulder. “But this isn’t fair to you. I’m all about reciprocity, but no way in hell am I getting down on my knees out here.”
“That’s okay. We’ll bank that IOU for the next time we’re together, okay?”
Amanda sighed. “Which will be . . .”
I snorted. “With that kind of incentive promised to me? Soon, baby. It’ll be soon.”