Let Me Love You (59)

Ten minutes after Thomas had met up with my parents at the halfway point between Charlotte and their small town of Waxhaw, they realized Stuffy had been left in the back seat of Thomas’s car. They’d called him, but the jerk had refused to turn around. He’d said he had a plane to catch and didn’t have time.

“That’s okay, baby girl. Nanna’s got some fun toys for you,” I went on, hoping to calm Chiara down as my mom held her inside her living room. “I love you so, so much.” I blew her an air kiss, which had her smiling, thank God, and she blew one back to me.

“Hon, can you take her while I have a word with our daughter?” my mom asked my dad, and he popped his head into view to wave, then took Chiara from her. No lecture from him, but I knew one was coming from Mom. “I just don’t understand what you’re doing at the Costas’ in New York.” Mom cut straight to it.

“I needed a vacation,” I said on a sigh.

I peered at the massive yacht with the Costa name scrolled on it, which sat regally in the water, as Mom said, “You didn’t even tell me you were getting on a plane. The fact I had to hear from Enzo’s mother that you’re at their house just screams something is wrong.”

At her words, I started to pace. Enzo’s mother must’ve redecorated his old bedroom, since it looked more like a guest room staged for a furniture store. A sailing theme to go with the bay.

“I assume Thomas doesn’t know you’re there? I’m surprised he didn’t grill us with questions when we picked up Chiara.”

“Yeah, well, Thomas can kiss my ass,” I snapped just as there was a knock at the door. Shit. “I have to go. Talk later.” I chucked the phone on the bed as the door opened.

“I’d prefer Thomas to go nowhere near your ass.” Enzo casually walked in, then shut and locked the door, barely giving me time to process he’d overheard what I’d said to my mom.

I dropped onto the bed and tugged at the soft fabric of my dress, feeling a draft, since I was without panties. The dress went to my knees when standing but only brushed my thighs whenever I sat. “I thought you’d be with your brothers.”

He sat next to me and rested his palm on my knee. “Yeah, but they can wait.” He looked at me, and I let go of a ragged breath. “Are you okay?”

“I think so?” My brows slanted, giving me away.

“You really aren’t a great actress.” His lips teased into a semismile before he shifted to the side a bit to better face me and walked his palm up my thigh like a slow, sensual caress. “Did you do as I asked?”

I swallowed, setting my hands on each side of me on the bed as my nipples pebbled at his unexpected touch. I barely managed a nod with his hand on me.

He shifted the fabric aside and traced the seam of my sex with his finger. “I don’t know if I can handle you being bare at the dinner table. There will be other men there, and maybe I wasn’t thinking straight when I asked you.” That deep, husky rasp as he thumbed the sensitive spot of my clit had my eyes falling shut, and I barely heard anything he’d said. The man knew how to relax me, that was for sure. I forgot all about my nerves.

I rested back on my forearms as he continued to softly stroke that bundle of nerves. “You should be with . . . your . . . brothers. Not worrying about me. I’m . . . fine.” Just breathless and panting with your hand and eyes on me.

“I told you earlier, I’ll always worry about you.” His other hand slid down the front of my dress, and he palmed my breast beneath the bra. “And you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

“No.” My eyes flashed open at the loss of his touch.

“Good.” He stood and twirled a finger. “Center of the bed on your back this time,” he commanded while fixing the cuffs of his shirt as if about to go to a meeting, not get me off. Was he serious?

I stared up at him, unsure what to do. Give in to desire and let him relax me or demand he go to his brothers and do what he came to New York to do. Could he really afford to be distracted another time?

“I won’t ask again.” His voice was rough as he let go of his sleeve.

“And what will you do if I don’t behave?” Oh jeez, what was with my new obsession of playing with fire? Then again, I was single now, and there’d been months of hot back-and-forth between us. Sexual innuendos buried within our words. A bit of cat and mouse. Foreplay without the actual “play” up until recently.

“I’ll show you, sweetheart.” Without giving me a chance to follow his order, he hoisted me to my feet and tossed me over his shoulder.

My dress went up, and he spanked my ass with one hard smack while carrying me to the fancy chaise longue by the french doors.

He let me go only long enough so he could sit. Snatching my wrist, he pulled me onto his lap, and I found myself facedown, my side braid hanging in my face and my dress bunched at my waist with his hard cock near my center.

My nails bit into the suede fabric of the seat when he began to smooth his hand in small circles over the area he’d spanked.

And then his fingers slid inside me as his thumb pushed against my other hole, and I squirmed, but he held me firm in place.

“Relax, Tesoro.” But his dick was rock-solid, and I couldn’t help but rotate my pelvis, dry humping him like I was a decade younger and still a virgin.