Damian

Christ, what a week.

I finally got access back to my house four days after a man came in and terrorized my Gypsy—In. My. Fucking. House! As promised, Ma came in with Fran and Gabby and had even dragged my father along. For heavy lifting, she’d said. I almost laughed out loud since my father is almost a foot shorter than my mom, at five foot six or seven, plus he has trouble lifting the coffee pot in the morning. Not exactly the muscle she makes him out to be.

But I left it in her hands. She was thrilled to finally be able to do something, and I was thankful to scratch one thing off my list. I didn’t think she’d take the job of cleaning so seriously.

After three fucking days, Ma calls me to let me know it’ll be ready tonight. I’m not sure what the hell took them so long, and part of me dreads to find out.

Now there’s Kerry, who claims to be good enough to just stay home. God save me from stubborn women.

“You still have trouble getting dressed with your ribs messed up. How in the hell are you gonna manage on your own?” I ask her, fighting off the urge to just toss her over my shoulder and haul her off. She’s sitting on the couch, dressed in leggings and an old T-shirt ending just below her knees. She can’t even wear a bra yet because it hurts too much, let alone raise her arms to wash her hair.

“I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m going to have to open the store in the next few days. Marya is still in Silverton with the kids, and I’m guessing she’ll be out for another five or six weeks with that arm of hers. As it is, it’s going to be a while before I get my business back up to where it was. On top of that, I have to find a new car since my old one is scrapped. It’s just easier from here.”

I take a deep breath and try a different angle. “I know you don’t need my help, but would you like me to come with you to find a car? We can go this afternoon so you’ll at least have some wheels.” Initially she looks at me suspiciously, not quite buying that I’m really giving in. I show her my best sincere face. 

“I know you’ve got something up your sleeve, but regardless,” she says with a little smile, “I would love to get the car thing out of the way, and I would love your help.”

I let out a relieved breath, when she pins me with a wagging finger. “But don’t think I won’t have my eye on you.”

-

IT IS NOT GOING WELL.

Kerry is dead set on getting another Subaru, no matter how much I try to explain that a real Durangoan would not be caught dead driving one of those Kerry doesn’t seem to care, and knowing the car is only part of the struggles ahead, I decide—with pain in my heart—to let this one go. I’m picking my battles, but instead of making her happy, she seems even more suspicious when I turn the Expedition south to the dealership. 

A long and painful hour later, Kerry signs the contract on a brand new Forester. They don’t have the color she wants in stock, something called Quartz Blue Pearl, and so she’ll have to wait for them to order it in. I try to suggest a navy one, to me blue is blue, but that earns me a stink eye.

I have my eye on the slick salesman when he tries to sell her the undercoating, for an exorbitant price, he’s hiding in the monthly installments she’ll be paying. I have a little chat with him, and in the end he throws in the undercoating, plus one or two other add-ons for free. That time Kerry’s gray eyes sparkle and I suddenly can’t care less about the car or the color, as long as I can see that sparkle in her eyes.

Kerry’s monthly expenses are going to put a serious dent in her income and—opportunist that I am—I’m going to add that to my arsenal of reasons she should just move in with me. Working as a field agent for many years, before I set down roots here, allowed me to live from a duffel bag and stockpile my money. It means when I bought my place, I was able to do it without the need of a mortgage. Taxes, utilities, and groceries are all I have to pay, and my SUV comes with the job.

“Don’t you love that color?” She smiles big as we drive away from the dealership, a brochure with her new car in the exact color she picked clutched in her lap. “I wish I could show Kim.”

“If you love it, that’s all that matters,” I say, prying one of her hands away from her lap and entwining our fingers. “But if you want, we can head up for dinner at my place, see what my crazy family has been up to. And at the same time, you’ll have four women to show your new Quartz Blue Pearl car off to.” I ignore the hard stare I feel coming from her.

“Low, Gomez,” she scolds me. “Also, very effective. Fine, I’ll come home with you, but just for dinner with your family.”

I hide my smile behind our laced fingers when I bring her hand up for a kiss. “That’s all I want,” I lie bold-faced.

The moment we turn off the highway, I feel Kerry stiffen beside me, and I realize what an idiot I’ve been. First chance I get, I pull off to the side in the grass and turn the engine off.

“Why are we stopping?”

I turn, take her face in my hands, and kiss her gently. “Because for someone who is generally pretty observant, I’ve been stupidly blind. I know it’ll take you some time to properly process what happened to you. Hell, I’m pretty sure it’s gonna take me some time. I just never clued in that you might be scared to come back here. Do you want me to turn around?”

She doesn’t say anything but stares out through the windshield. When I follow her line of vision, I notice we are parked right on the crest of the hill, overlooking the river and my house.

“It’s beautiful,” she finally expresses. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to see it anymore, but I still do.”

I shove my seat back, fumble with the damn seat belt and finally manage to pull her across the console and on my lap. “It is beautiful,” I agree. “Don’t give him that kind of power.” I wrap my arms tight around her waist and rest my head against hers.

“I’m sorry,” she says, as she climbs back over the console into her own seat. “I don’t want to turn around. There’s an armada of vehicles in your driveway. I wouldn’t let you face such an onslaught alone. Besides,” she adds, a little grin tugging at her lips. “Who else would I show my pretty new car to?”

I start the car and pull back onto the road. “I love you,” I say, without turning my head, eyes fixed on the view below.

“I know,” she softly answers, but when I quickly look over, she has the widest grin on her face.

KERRY

“Have some more,” Carmella urges, as she shoves the pan in my direction. “I swear, you’ve lost weight.”

I chuckle because I doubt that missing a couple of meals, the first two days after I sustained my injuries, has hardly put a dent in my surplus thirty or so pounds. I’ve learned to like my surplus, though, and I have no doubt Damian likes it, too.

The moment we got out of the Expedition, the front door flew open and the entire family, minus Chrissy, who apparently stayed home with a sick child, came filing out of the house. Damian managed to round the front of the car and slip a protective arm around me before leading me through the hellos and well-wishes. Carmella was standing with her arm around a much shorter man with an impressive shock of silver hair, a strong nose, and deep set, warm brown eyes. His entire face was deeply lined, but despite his age and rather short stature, he made a striking figure. He was introduced as Ignacio, and completely disregarded the friendly hand I held out. The older man placed his hands on either side of my face, kissed both my cheeks, and then my forehead before letting me go.

“Preciosa,” he rumbled in a surprisingly deep voice.

Before I even realized what was happening, I’d been herded through the house and was sitting on the back deck with a drink in my hand. The lively noise of chatter and the smell of rich, fragrant foods instantly washed out any hesitation I might have felt walking in. If not for the new, deep sunflower-yellow color I noticed on the kitchen walls, I wouldn’t have known anything had happened here.

It wasn’t until a little later, when Bella announced dinner was on the table and we all filed in, that I realized this homecoming had been very carefully orchestrated. I could feel every eye on me as I sat down, watching for any signs of a breakdown. Instead, I smiled at Carmella and said, “I’m starving!” Immediately, the rather loaded silence lifted and the boisterous sounds of a large family dinner filled the room.

I sit back and put my hands on my food-filled belly. “I don’t think I’d survive another bite, Carmella. That was out-of-this-world delicious. The way this family cooks, I’ll need to invest in a new wardrobe soon.”

“You’re no slouch yourself, Kerry,” Bella points out. “You could give Papa a run for his money with your desserts.”

I turn to Ignacio with big eyes. “You cook, too?”

“I can do the sweet stuff. I can cook but not like my wife. We split tasks so we don’t fight each other in the kitchen,” he explains, chuckling softly.

“We’ll do dessert with coffee,” Carmella says, getting up from the table. “Mi hijo, why don’t you take Kerry upstairs while I put on a pot? You haven’t had a chance to inspect it up there.”

Damian squints his eyes at his mother before getting up, pulling my chair out, and holding out his hand. “I can tell my family’s been up to something,” he says, bending down to me when I stand. “Best get this over with.” 

With my hand tucked in his, I follow him quietly up the stairs. He heads straight for the master bedroom. Right away I notice the subtle changes in decor. A dove gray is painted on the walls, and there are new sheets on the bed, a lighter gray with a chocolate-brown border. Throw pillows in the same colors but embroidered with subtle olive green stitching are piled on the bed, and matching curtains have replaced the utilitarian blinds to cover the large windows on either side. A proper dressing table, with a stool, has replaced the simple dresser against the wall, and when I look closer, I see a few familiar items I would have sworn were still in my house when we left this afternoon.

“Son of a bitch,” Damian mutters from behind me. “I swear, I had no idea,” he says. as I turn around and watch him step into the walk-in closet where my clothes are neatly stored, right across from Damian’s.

“How...” I start as I walk in past him and run my fingers along my entire wardrobe that somehow miraculously made its way here.

“Bella,” he says by way of explanation.

“Actually,” Bella’s voice pipes up behind us. She’s leaning against the closet door, a half-guilty smile on her face. “Fran and Gabby helped. It was Mama’s idea all along. I guess she felt you needed a nudge. I would have put a stop to it if I didn’t think it was a foregone conclusion things would end up like this anyway.” She turns her big, brown eyes on me. “Are you mad?” I think about it. I probably should be, but oddly enough, I’m relieved any decision-making was taken from my hands in this case. If I’m honest with myself, I knew I’d end up here eventually anyway, I would’ve just agonized over the move a little longer.

“No—surprisingly,” I admit, a little giggle escaping me.

“Phew,” she wipes the back of her hand over her forehead in dramatic fashion. “In that case, look what else we’ve done.”

I hear Damian growl as his sister grabs my wrist and pulls me along to the room on the other side of the bathroom. The walls in here are painted the same soothing, gray color and the double bed, which had been centered against the far wall, is now fitted in the corner and made up like a daybed. A thick, bolstered pillow runs along the back and some loose throw pillows turn it into a huge, comfy couch. The reclaimed wood desk under the window is new, as is the leather high-back chair behind it. Also new are the matching bookshelves, running from the edge of the desk to the far corner, giving the room a library feel.

“We didn’t want to presume and take out the bed,” Bella explains, which elicits a derisive snort from Damian. “Although Ma had a couch picked out, as well.”

“This desk...these shelves... they’re beautiful.” I run my fingers over the dips and divots of the old wood.

“Papa made them.” Damian steps into my view and examines the shelves.

“He had the desk already done at home, but he built the shelves right here,” Bella explains. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure our highly inappropriate family isn’t completely scaring you off. I promise they’ll be heading back home tonight.”

“Are you okay?” Damian asks, holding me back at the top of the stairs. I take a minute to really consider the question. I think even as little as a few weeks ago, I would’ve bristled at the not-so-subtle manipulation, but strangely enough I feel rather laid-back about it now. Not that I was really given a choice, but the family’s meddling is growing on me. It actually makes me feel cared for.

I press my cheek against his chest and wrap my arms around his waist. “I think it’s sweet,” I simply tell him.

The churros Ignacio has made are delicious. Light and crispy, not overly greasy, and with the cinnamon and sugar dusted on top, it’s difficult to stop after just one. That’s why I barely manage to get out of my chair when Carmella announces they should get going.

It’s getting dark outside, and the bugs have come out in full force when we wave after the four sets of departing taillights. Bella’s included. She’s going to stay the night at my place, suggesting we take the night to make sure this is what we want before she actually moves all her stuff from the spare room.

I won’t need the night to decide.

DAMIAN

“You haven’t said much,” she stops me inside the house.

I carefully close and lock the door behind me and walk her backwards into the living room.

“I don’t usually talk much around my family,” I explain, as I sit her on the couch before dropping down on the coffee table in front of her. “I tried enough of that as a teenager, and I was never able to make myself heard over my sisters. I just try to take them in stride, like my father does.”

It’s true, my dad spent all night engaged and enjoying himself, yet he barely strung two words together. It’s the way it’s been since I can remember. The irony is that with his silence, he manages to get more accomplished than if he’d duked it out in a verbal war.

“Okay,” Kerry says carefully. “But they’re not here anymore, and I really want to know how you feel about this.”

I give up my seat on the table for a spot next to her on the couch, carefully tucking her against my side. “I couldn’t care less about colors and decor as long as stuff isn’t pink, but I do care about turning this into our home instead of just mine. Obviously, my family couldn’t resist leaving their own stamp on our house, but they did it for you—so you would feel at home. That’s all I want, too.”

“We’ll have to sort out the finances, though. I expect to pay half of everything.” She’s not quite pulling off the stern look she is trying for, and I have a hard time not chuckling at her scrunched up face.

“Okay,” I answer cautiously, knowing full well I’m heading into a potential minefield. “I actually thought about it.” This clearly surprises her. “I figured there are a few ways we can do this. I’d feel better just paying for any expenses, but knowing you, that probably wouldn’t fly.”

“You’ve got that right,” she mumbles under her breath.

“You’d probably prefer something like contributions at income ratio.” This time I don’t hold back when I see her nod her head enthusiastically.  I burst out laughing. “You know you’re predictable, right?” I tease. “But I don’t like the idea of obligation from one to the other. So here’s the deal; we split bills. Utilities, maintenance, and taxes I take care of, and you can take on groceries.”

“Okay, that’s hardly a fair division,” she inserts sharply.

“It actually is.” I give her a quick breakdown of the monthly average expenses and my income, and then I hit her with my one condition. “Once we’re married, though, I don’t want any of this nonsense. We build a life together—we share it all. The house is transferred into both our names, and we never talk about mine and yours again.” I expect resistance but not the utter shock I see on her face.

“Married?” she squeaks. “I was barely muscled into moving in with you—how did marriage get into this?” She’s cute when she panics. Her eyes dart around like she is looking for an escape route, but I’m not about to let her get away.

With care for her ribs, I pull her on my lap and with my hand to the side of her face, force her to look at me. “Where did you think this was leading, Gypsy? Not this week, maybe not this year, but at some point I’ll want a chance to call you my wife.”

“I vowed I’d never get married again,” she says pensively.

“Never get married, because of marriage, or because of your ex? Because if you’re going to stick by that vow as a result of him, you’re not being fair to yourself or to me. Married or not, I hope you know I will always, always be keeping your six.”

The hand she places over my heart is Kerry’s only response, but it’s more than enough.

-

I WAKE UP IN THE MIDDLE of the night to Kerry’s lips sliding down over my cock. In the dark, I only see the shimmer of her eyes peeking up at me through her lashes. Her fist is tightly wrapped around the root, and I feel more than see her cheeks hollow as she sucks the length against the roof of her mouth. Fucking bliss. Instinctively, my hands burrow in her hair and my hips surge deeper.

“Gypsy...” I groan, as I threaten to lose myself in the wet, stroking heat of her mouth. “I need to feel you come around me.” With a sharp plop, she releases me and her eyes never waver from mine as she makes her way up my body, stopping only when her soaking wet core finds my dick. With her hands braced on my chest, she starts moving with rhythmic tilts of her hips, rubbing herself on my cock.

Frustrated I can’t see her, my hand automatically reaches for the light on the nightstand, but she stops me. “Don’t,” she whispers. “Just watch my eyes and feel me.”

I fucking feel her all right. Slick and hot with these little gasps and moans that drive me so wild, I almost come like this. I watch her, though. It’s too dark to see color, but I don’t need it to see the need in her eyes. I want inside her and grab her hips to lift her up. When she catches on, she stills her movements and obliges by bracing herself on my tip, sinking down slowly until I’m buried to the root. Then she slowly rides me, the slap of skin on skin where our slippery bodies meet, the only sound other than our breathing.

It could’ve been minutes or hours, but when I feel Kerry’s body give in to the slow buildup of tension, and she starts bucking on my cock, I can do little but hang on for the ride. My hips pump up in tandem until, with a loud groan, Kerry grinds herself down, pinning me to the mattress. Swiveling her hips, she rolls her clit hard on my root, fighting for her release. Barely able to hold off my own orgasm, I slip my fingers through her wet crease and press the tip of my middle finger firmly against her ass. The moment I penetrate the tight ring of muscle, she finds it, her body pulsing around mine, dragging me over the edge right behind her.