I’m instantly lost.
I suck on her tongue, her lips, then thrust my tongue back into her mouth, sliding it against hers, her taste and whimpers sending shocks of pure pleasure through my body. My other hand comes up and squeezes her breast through the silk material. I feel precum leak from my dick.
Slow down, Sandro.
I’m shaking from the effort as I move both of my hands to cradle her head and press my forehead into hers. “You’re going to be the death of me, Angel.”
“Ditto, mobster,” she breathes, trembling.
I kiss her forehead, then each eyelid then the tip of her nose. It’s an addiction. I press kisses all over her cheeks, the corners of her lipsand move down her neck to her collarbone. She’s squirming now, and I’m in danger of coming in my pants like a fucking teenager.
I rest my head against the crook of her neck and just soak in this moment. This moment that she’s in my arms again. That her hard breaths against my neck mean she’s just as worked up as I am. That for just this night… she’s mine.
When we arrive, I shove a wad of cash into Big Tony’s palm and send him to talk to the hotel’s outside guards, ensuring we won’t be disturbed.
Club Paradiso is lit up and there’s a party going on at the pool. Country music mingles with the sound of the ocean. Lennon’s got her heels clutched in one hand as I lead her down the beach to one of the six private cabanas that belong to the hotel.
“Oh, is this for us?” Lennon’s hand flutters around her throat as she grins, taking everything in.
I love how she delights in the small stuff. “For you.” I lean in and kiss her flushed cheek.
The cabana has a thatched roof and two white cushioned lounge chairs. Two bottles of champagne on ice sit in a tall bucket. Oversized pillows have been added along with a large white, cashmere throw and two large picnic baskets. They’ve also filled the cabana with baskets of white roses, electric candles nestled within.
I would’ve preferred to whisk Lennon off to a romantic island for the night, just the two of us, but there was no time. This’ll have to do.
I slide the two lounge chairs together.
Better.
Then I untie the white side curtains and let them fall to give us privacy. Checking the picnic baskets, I nod in satisfaction. They’ve outdone themselves with the food.
I glance around and spot Lennon at the water’s edge, letting the foamy waves wash over her bare feet. Her arms are wrapped around her middle.
I remove my tux jacket, toss it over the back of a chair, then my shoes and socks and roll up my sleeves. I drink her in as I go to her, the sand cool under my feet. Her curvy silhouette, her sexy as fuck tussled hair blowing in the wind. I wrap my arms around her, beneath her own and she leans back into me. Her musky vanilla scent mingling with the salty air is intoxicating. Pressing a kiss behind her ear, I ask, “What are you thinking about?”
She sighs. “The last time I was here. My mom.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.Fuck.I didn’t even think about that. I was too busy wanting her to remember the good times we had here. I really am a selfish prick. “I’m sorry, Lennon. I didn’t think about how hard it would be for you to come back here.”
She trails her fingers over my hand and up my forearm in a soft caress. Her touch is sending tiny shocks through my body. It’s been a long time since someone touched me so tenderly. Ten years, in fact.
“It’s okay. I’ve run from the memories long enough. I want to be able to think about the good memories, not let the bad ones overshadow them… otherwise what’s the point?”
I rest my chin on the top of her head. “Tell me a good memory of your mom then.”
The soft lapping of waves and muffled music from the hotel behind us are the only sounds for a few minutes.
When she speaks, her voice is low and far away, almost getting lost in the breeze. “My thirteenth birthday. She worked so much and was so serious all the time…sad even. But on my thirteenth birthday, she ordered a pizza, and we brought it and a radio down to the beach. We spent the day together swimming, laughing and dancing. And talking. It was the first time she really opened up to me about her crappy childhood. About her regrets. She told me I was the only thing she’d done right in life. That I was her pride and joy.”
“She was a great mom.” I’m glad my angel didn’t end up with a psychotic cunt like my mother.
“She was. She didn’t deserve to die like she did. I think it would be easier to take if the bastard who shot her had been caught. It wouldn’t bring her back, but at least there would be justice.”
Hmmm. Is this an opening for me to come clean? Would it help her to know the bastard was dead? Or would she be horrified by mybrand of justice?
I couldn’t take that chance. The chance of her looking at me like a monster. Even if she’d be right. Not tonight when this would be our last night together.
It struck me too late that I’d crossed all decent boundaries with her… again. I don’t deserve her. I never have. But I just can’t make myself walk away from the chance to have her as mine one more time.
