Acrobat (17 page)

He nodded. “We already started, but now we can just work at it full-time.”

“And what is your business?’

“We’re general contractors, some light construction, drywall, painting, stuff like that. I enjoy it, so does Sal, and no one shoots at us.”

“Don’t joke about that.”

He grunted. “All I ever did, all Sal did, was keep Mr. Romelli safe, be his bodyguards, so we told Tony that now, when they’re figuring shit out, like who’s gonna do what, that he should just count us out. Mr. Romelli was letting us walk away, and now Tony has too.”

“So then everything’s all set.”

“Yeah.” His eyes were locked on mine, staring deep. “I mean, before I can have a life I can be proud of, have who I want in it… I had to change what I did.”

“So you’ve done that.”

“
Sì
.”

There was a long silence, and neither of us moved or spoke.

“I should find Michael,” I said finally, looking into the dark wells of his eyes.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

But I didn’t move, and after a minute, I was embarrassed for thinking there was more he wanted to say, maybe even more he wanted from me. “Bye,” I said under my breath, ready to leave, brushing by him, reaching the door, my hand on the knob.

He leaned forward, forearm braced there so I couldn’t get it open.

“You need to let me out.”

“Not yet,” he whispered.

“Listen”—I turned around, my back against the door—“I’m getting conflicting signals here, and maybe you don’t even know that you’re—”

“I know,” he said fast.

I took a breath. “And?”

He looked miserable, and I suddenly felt very foolish.

“Dreo,” I dived in, “you either need to tell me what you want from me or tell me that there’s nothing you need at all.”

His exhale. “
Ho voglia di te
.”

“In English.”

He leaned his head against the forearm he had pressed against the door. “I dunno.”

“What did you say?” I asked, staring up at him, into his dark liquid eyes.

“I said I want you, but I don’t even know what I mean.”

I cleared my throat. “I think you want a family, Dreo, and when it’s you and me and Michael, you think you like it. If you’re out, out of the life with Mr. Romelli, maybe you’ll have time to find the girl you need.”

“I’ve had nothing but time.”

“That’s crap. You’ve been taking care of Mr. Romelli all day and Michael at night, and the only person you’ve had around at all on a regular basis is me, so it makes sense that you would develop some—”

“No, it doesn’t,” he snapped. “You don’t just start having feelings for someone because they’re around. Gimme a fuckin’ break.”

“I just mean that—”

“Could you just shut the fuck up?”

The condescending tone was too much. “Fine, you man up, then.”

We stood there, staring, and he was furious—it was there on his face—but also more.

“You’re telling me to grow some balls.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Some people are afraid of me, you know.”

“Not me. Not ever.”

He grunted before putting one hand gently around my throat, tipping my head up with his thumb. “
Tesoro… dammi un bacio….
”

I had no idea that my stomach could still flutter, that my heart could pound so hard that it was all I could hear, and that my knees would actually wobble.

“
Per piacere
,” he whispered as he bent and touched his lips to mine.

My breath caught, and I saw the corner of his beautiful mouth tip up wickedly before he tilted his head and kissed me.

I held my breath and everything exploded.

The kiss was hard and bruising, devouring and rough, filled with frantic, pulse-pounding heat. Dreo took what he wanted, and I felt it, his dominance, and moaned deeply into his mouth. I craved him, and even when I had to break the kiss to breathe, I kept my hands on him, not letting him go.

“Are you okay?” I asked, sounding like I was giving him a choice to leave even as I held onto the lapels of his suit jacket.

He nodded, just barely.

“My turn.”

“Please,” he said under his breath, which undid me.

I eased him down, my eyes closing as our lips met again, my mouth slanting over his, my tongue sliding into the wet heat, tasting him, tangling with his as we rubbed and ground together. It was slow and languid, deep and building, and I moved my hands, one behind his head, stroking the nape of his neck, the other on his chest, sliding over the hard pectorals, gentling him.

The growl in the back of his throat was very low, very sexy, and as I stroked my tongue over his, I felt his hands slide over my ass, his fingers squeezing tight.

It was drugging and sensual, and he swallowed my moan as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed harder, feeling my body flush hot and cold, the response in him just as consuming, everything but his sweet mouth forgotten, the desire all that there was.

Four years all alchemized into a single moment of scorching, aching, devouring need. I was overwhelmed. Normally I questioned and analyzed, but I was given no time. The man was not stopping, not letting me go. Instead, when I pulled free, I had only a second before his teeth were back, nibbling, and I heard him take a quick breath before his tongue was again exploring every crevice of my mouth, my palette, the back of my teeth, and the hollows of my cheeks.

His hands pulled my hips into his, and he began rubbing against me, grinding, pushing against my already hardened groin. The feel of his body, the heat…. I was lost.

I broke the kiss because I had to breathe, and instantly he shoved my head back so he could press his lips to my throat. He sucked and bit, and I jolted in his arms as he inhaled me, his hands kneading my ass hard.

“Fuck, Nate,” he moaned, his breath quavering. “I don’t even know what to—”

I had gulped air, so I lifted my head and pulled him back down to me, recapturing the kiss, plunging my tongue inside his mouth, his lips already parted, ready, wanting.

He lifted me off my feet, and I wrapped my long legs around his waist as he shoved me up against the door. I was higher and ground my mouth down over his, my tongue sliding, pushing, the kiss just as fierce as before, still hungry and carnal.

I whimpered loudly and felt him shudder in response, his big, hard body quivering as he began to thrust against my groin, the inside of my thigh.

My hands were digging into his jacket as I ravaged his mouth, feeling him surrender to me, becoming mine to take, to have—all I wanted.

His hips snapped harder, faster, and I tried to drag my lips from his, but he sucked my bottom lip inside his mouth and bit down, holding me there.

I lost myself in the kiss again, but he pinned me to the door with his chest, lifting his lips from mine, taking a gulp of air as he put me on my feet. We were both panting, our foreheads pressed together, trembling with unsatisfied yearning.

“Nate,” he rasped, his hot breath on my face. “Will you let me get in your bed?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly, because as hot as things had ever been with Duncan, as much as I wanted Sean Cooper, neither had come close to the combustible heat that I just experienced with the man in my arms.

“You swear?”

“I do,” I assured him, unwinding my arms from his neck.

“Don’t do that,” he mumbled, leaning forward, pushing his mouth against the base of my throat, licking before he sucked the skin into his mouth.

He would leave marks, which I was guessing was his intent.

I held on as he unbuttoned my peacoat, tugged my sweater up, yanked my T-shirt out of my jeans, and slid his hands over my hot skin.

“
Sono pazzo di te
.” He spoke the words against my throat.

“What did you—”

“I’m so crazy about—I wanna put my hands all over you.”

He could do whatever he wanted. When he murmured something under his breath, for once I asked what the word he used all the time meant.

“I call you
tesoro
all the time,” he told me, “and you’ve never asked before.”

“It’s not ‘pain in the ass’ in Italian?”

“No,” he breathed out before kissing up my jaw, rubbing his face in my beard. “It means treasure, Nate Qells, and you’re mine.”

“What are you—”

“You and Michael, you’re my home.”

I was?

“Yes,” he said as though I’d spoken the question aloud.

As he stared at me with his hooded eyes, licked his dark, swollen lips, and I heard how heavily he was breathing, I shivered hard. I would have let him have me right there if he wanted and not thought twice about it. I wanted him desperately. I jolted against him as his hands went to my belt, the buckle jingling as he worked it open, then the button of my pants and the zipper.

“Nate,” he moaned as his fingers encircled my leaking cock.

I shuddered hard, willing myself not to come, not to spurt over his hand and onto the front of his pants. I never lost control, but I was teetering on the verge of it. “You have to stop or I’m going to make a mess all over you.”

“Go ahead,” he said, tugging on my shaft, squeezing. “You’re… this is so beautiful.”

I gave in for a moment to the feeling, to the sizzling electricity sparking over my skin, up my spine, rushing through my body as I pushed in and out of his fist.

“I wanna suck you so bad—gag myself with this.”

I was drowning, and I could not recall the last time it had happened so completely.

“
Voglio fare l’amore con te
,” he whispered into my hair.

“I don’t—”

“I wanna make love to you.”

“Fuck,” I growled, reaching for him, hand on his sweater, the other wrapped around his neck, pulling him back down to me so I could shove my tongue down his throat.

He straightened up, releasing my leaking cock, his arms wrapping tight around my waist instead, and he pressed the length of his body to mine. One hand went down the back of my pants and cupped my right cheek.

“You are so hot,” he groaned softly in my ear. “I knew you had to be something under all these clothes, but goddamn, Nate. I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

It was all I could think of.

“I bet you like it deep and hard, don’t you?”

I whimpered in the back of my throat. “Oh yes.”

He growled as he pressed against me tighter. “I want to feel your skin… all of it.”

I feasted on his mouth, and he kneaded my ass, both of us rubbing, grinding, until I got my hands wedged on the carved chest and shoved him away hard.

We stood for a moment, both of us gasping, heaving for breath.

“What the fuck?” he panted.

“If we keep this up, I’ll be begging you to fuck me right here in the laundry room.”

His brown-black eyes, fringed with the long, thick, feathery lashes, just stared at me.

“Come home with me and get in my bed. Let me show what it can be, and then let me hold you after all night long. Don’t go home. Stay with me,” I pleaded.

He looked me right in the eye, held my gaze, and studied my face.

“Please.”

After a long minute, he nodded. “I’ll find Michael and meet you at your car.”

Even as I was talking, I never expected him to agree. That he did, that his eyes roamed all over me, hot and possessive, that he gestured me close and when I moved, he took my face in his hands and bent to kiss me again…. I was overwhelmed. He was so young and yet not afraid of what he wanted, willing to see what passion would bring.

I went boneless and pliant in his arms, letting him control the kiss, suck on my lips, tangle his tongue with mine, and hold me in his arms.

“You are so beautiful.” He spoke the words against my mouth. “Please don’t change your mind; please don’t say no to me when we get home.”

The word
no
never entered my mind.

Chapter 9

I
LOOKED
the other way when Michael got in the car, and only turned back when he closed the door and the light went off. I had gone out the back door and around the side of the house because I knew what I must have looked like.

Clothes rumpled, hair tousled, lips dark and red and swollen, I looked like I’d been ravished. Dreo looked the same, but I was flushed, and when I got to the car and checked the mirror, my pupils were dilated like I was on drugs. Anyone older than eighteen would know exactly what they were looking at. Luckily for me, Michael, still young and virginal, had no clue.

“You all right?” he asked, worried. “You look all hot.”

I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”

“I thought Dreo was coming with—oh, here he comes.”

Michael opened the car door, and I felt like the spotlight was back, but I watched Dreo coming toward the car anyway. And he was ready to give his uncle the front seat, but Dreo waved at him to stay put. He climbed in the back, and Michael closed the door at the same time.

“Let’s go home,” Michael said. “I’m ready for Friday night Kung Fu Theater.”

“No homework?” I asked.

“Homework is for Sunday night, not Friday night,” Dreo informed me. “Give the kid a break.”

“Yeah, Nate, gimme a break.”