“Am I dead?” Angelina asked.
“Just a
petite mort
, my pet. The best kind.” He really shouldn’t call her that. She wasn’t his pet. Probably never would be. Yet it seemed so natural.
She raised her head slightly. “That was…” she paused as she searched for the right words, then shook her head. “I have no words to describe it. I never…just…thank you.”
He watched Luke’s chest swell with pride, then his friend reached up to stroke her cheek. “Don’t thank me, Angel. Having you explode for me like that was…well.” He shrugged and grinned at her.
Well done, my friend. Welcome back to the game
.
Still, witnessing the exchange, Marc felt something twist inside him. He’d participated in scenes with multiple partners on many occasions, so, why did it bother him now, with Angelina and one of his best friends?
Mine
.
Bullshit. He had no claim on her. Marc shook off the possessive thought and watched as Luke laid his head on her thigh and stroked her other leg from thigh to calf. Angelina tucked her head into Marc’s shoulder. Eyes closed, she hung onto the waning effects of her release, fighting against the inevitable return to earth. Her well-sated body pressing against Marc’s entire length caused his cock to throb.
He felt her stiffen. “Ignore it,
cara
. My cock has a mind of its own. Just relax.” Her lips curled into a smile as she sank against him again and smiled as he idly stroked the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples had begun to relax to their pre-orgasmic state, then he squeezed her full nipples in his cupped hands and watched them start to swell and harden again.
Dio
, she felt so right against his body. He loved her generous curves sprawled open in licentious satisfaction before him. Her head lolled against his upper arm and he looked down at her. Then she smiled, keeping her eyes closed, and reached her hand up to stroke his cheek. Marc’s cock tightened as his hand skimmed over her abdomen toward her pussy.
She laughed, pulling her legs up in a protective manner, closing herself off to him. Ahh, damned ticklishness. He smiled.
“Please, no more! Have mercy, I beg of you!” He returned his hand to her breast, but
Dio
help him, he couldn’t stop touching her. Having her in his arms again was heaven on earth. He’d thought he’d lost his little angel forever and here she was, lying on top of him.
No, not his angel
. If anybody’s, she’d probably be Luke’s angel. Marc needed to keep that in mind tonight, because he wouldn’t let hard feelings come between him and his partner over a woman. Even though Angelina wasn’t just any woman.
Luke stood up, lifted Angelina’s legs, and pulled them together as he sat down again, laying her knees over his thighs. He pulled her skirt down over her knees and stroked her legs. Definitely a leg man. Marc watched as he slid his hand under her skirt to her thighs. She smiled and opened her eyes to look at Luke.
Marc experienced another pang of jealousy. He wanted her to look at him post-orgasm like that. Again. He wanted her all to himself.
“I think you two are the very guys my brothers warned me about all these years.” Her eyes opened wide and she sat upright with sudden realization, turning sideways to face them both in turn. “Wait one minute! Have my brothers been off having all this fun while I’ve been threatened with life in a convent if I so much as let a man touch me?”
They both laughed. The double standard as old as time—what was good for the gander wasn’t good for the gander’s sister.
She soon lost her sense of outrage and slumped back against Marc, laughing.
“You’re past the age of needing their approval,
bella
. It’s time for you to have some fun, too.”
“No, now it’s
your
turn.” She tried to sit up again, but Marc pulled her back against him.
“You have pleased us more than you know.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what kind of magic spell you two have cast over me. I’ve never been able to do that without…” He watched her face flush. Ah, so orgasms didn’t come so easily to her. Maybe that explained the shock and awe. And yet, she’d come for both him and Luke. Well, his making her come was dubious under the circumstances. He wished he could experience the power of giving her an orgasm totally under his control.
Marc knew she probably didn’t realize she’d been able to come because he and Luke had restrained her arms and legs. If he could, he’d have shown her how this makes a difference, but it wasn’t his place. If Luke wanted her, Marc wouldn’t stand in his way. He reached down to pull her blouse back over her breasts. The sight of them had become too painful for him.
Her body became heavier against him as she seemed to fall asleep. Luke eased himself out from under her legs and placed a crocheted blanket over her. He went into the head, then the kitchen. Now, wasn’t this the utter definition of torture. To hold a beautiful woman in his arms and know he couldn’t have her?
He watched her sleep and when her eyelids began to flicker and she moaned in pain, Marc’s fingers brushed against the furrows on her forehead, smoothing them out until she relaxed again. She’d been through a lot. He wished he could have protected her from all the pain she’d suffered at the hands of that bastard.
Guilt plagued him for not showing up earlier tonight, but most especially being late for his dungeon monitor duty the night she was beaten so badly. He’d failed her. Twice. Thank God she hadn’t recognized him. There really was no need to tell her who he was or what role he had played that night. Even if she and Luke pursued something beyond tonight, they’d never show up at his club. Luke just wasn’t into that scene.
* * *
Luke set out to wash the last of the dishes from supper, placing them in the dishwasher to drain. He hadn’t wanted to wake Angel to explain how the machine worked and, well, having something to do to keep his hands and mind busy had helped.
Remembering Angel on the couch exploding beneath his lips such a short time ago, he regretted he hadn’t been more insistent in convincing Maggie to let him please her in that way. They’d been married two years, but he’d never gotten past her inhibitions on that front—and many others. He had no doubt he’d have figured out a way to introduce more spice into their love life sooner or later, especially after he started tying her up. But there hadn’t been enough time for them.
Angel seemed to have no such inhibitions; well, once she overcame her initial shyness. Knowing she wasn’t promiscuous made her even sexier. He poured a glass of wine and took a swig, letting it mingle with the essence of Angel still on his tongue.
He reached for a towel and dried his hands and walked over to the refrigerator to put away the leftover meat. His hand froze as he stared into the face of Tony Giardano. The man was dressed in a suit, but no doubt about it, that was Tony. So, what was his picture doing on Angel’s fridge?
He looked at some of the other photos there, until he found a snapshot of six people—an older woman and five adults of a younger generation. Looked like they were dressed for Easter or Mother’s Day or something. There was Angelina—standing next to Tony.
Luke closed his eyes.
God damn it all to hell
. He felt the wine reflux into the back of his throat. She was a Giardano? What kind of twisted fate would bring Angel into his life only to take her away so fast? What the hell was Maggie trying to do to him?
He didn’t know how long he stood there in the kitchen…numb, heart aching as he thought about what he was going to do. He ran his hand through his hair.
Antonio Giardano’s daughter.
…
and by one daughter, his youngest child, Angelina
.
Fuck. What were the chances she was anyone other than Angelina Giardano? Now he could put a face to the other names in the obituary—Angela, the mother, Raphael, Franco, Matteo, Antonio Jr.—and Angelina.
Oh, this was rich. He’d come to town worried about running into Tony or Rafe Giardano, who also worked in SAR units. Just his dumb luck, he’d met and fallen—hard—for their baby sister.
He’d been so wrapped up in the message in Maggie’s dream that, when she introduced herself, all he heard was Angel. He didn’t even consider the notion she could be
that
Angelina. She hadn’t given a last name, which was understandable for a safety reasons in a bar with strangers. She didn’t need a stalker…well, another one.
Marc had to have known her full name, though, in order to call in the report on Allen Martin. Luke had never told his friend the whole story about Maggie’s death, so Marc wouldn’t have made a connection between the names. Luke ran his hand over his face and reached for the bottle of wine.
He just wished he’d been clued in before he’d taken things too far with her on that damned couch. Why hadn’t he been the one to take the food out of the fridge? Maybe he would have seen the photo and put a halt to the attraction then. Regret for what he’d done twisted his guts. At least there was some relief in knowing he hadn’t gone all the way with her.
Still, how could Maggie have sent her to him? Was this her idea of some kind of cosmic reconciliation? She’d never liked conflict or to leave things unresolved. Well, no thanks. He’d owned up to his responsibility by becoming a SAR worker and trying to make amends. He sure as hell didn’t need to confess to the woman he’d deprived of a father.
He filled his wineglass, then picked up the glass and the bottle and headed back to the living room. Not able to even look at the two of them stretched out on the couch, he sat on the overstuffed flowery chair in a darkened corner of the room.
“What’s wrong?” Marc whispered.
“Nothing. I plan to sit here and get rip-roaring drunk.” Then he’d figure out how to walk away from the best thing that had happened to him in seven years.
* * *
Marc’s gaze narrowed on Luke. Something had happened. Had he talked with the sheriff? Was there news about Allen Martin?
He looked down at Angelina sleeping soundly and didn’t want to disturb her, but definitely needed to know what was going on.
“Before you get too far into that bottle, help me get her to bed.”
Luke looked at him as if he’d asked him to pick up a coiled rattler. What was going on? Marc managed to swing his legs off the sofa and then lifted Angelina into his arms before heading down the hallway. He heard Luke following and waited for him to pull down the comforter and sheet so Marc could lay her in bed and cover her up. He stayed to make sure she didn’t awaken, but the flickering of her eyelids told him she was still in a deep sleep.
“Pleasant dreams only,
cara
.” He stroked a finger along the side of her face.
Marc turned around only to see that Luke had already left. He was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. Leaving her door open, in case she needed him, he walked down the hall, hitting the head in the hallway for a much-needed stop after all the wine, before returning to the living room. Luke had returned to the chair and poured a second glass of wine, which he downed swiftly. Had he even tasted the expensive Lombardy wine from Marc’s wine cellar? Then he poured another glass.
Shit
. He’d never known his partner to drink to excess. Was Luke upset with Marc for holding Angelina? What was he supposed to do? She’d fallen asleep on him. Or was it… He felt his lungs constrict painfully for the first time since he’d recovered from the hemo-pneumothorax he’d suffered in Fallujah.
“Have you heard something?”
Confused, Luke cocked his head and leaned against the back of the chintz chair.
Marc was losing patience. “What the hell did the sheriff say?”
Luke nodded in understanding. “I just checked, hoping they’d arrested the bastard and we could leave. They found him in the ER—and she did break his nose, by the way.” Marc smiled, but Luke remained serious. “Served him with the protection order. Warned him to stay away from her.” Luke shrugged.
For now, they both knew their hands were tied unless and until Asshole violated the order. By then, it could be too late to protect her.
“She’s not staying here alone,” Marc said.
Luke sobered, well, his expression did. “We’re leaving in the morning.”
“She’s coming with us.”
Even if she doesn’t know it yet
.
Now just how did he plan to pull that off?
“No!” The wine in Luke’s glass sloshed over the edge and onto his fingers and his jeans. He placed the glass to his lips and drained it, then looked at Marc. “We’ll call her brothers. They’ll keep an eye on her.”
Like hell they will
.
Marc needed to find out why his friend was trying to get drunk, which was totally out of character for him. Apparently, he’d started before talking with the sheriff’s department, so something else had happened.
Marc crossed the room and sat on the armrest of the sofa, near Luke’s chair. He hated to see his friend suffering like this. “What’s wrong, Luke? You’re hitting that stuff pretty hard.” Was this about Angelina? “Look, we agreed to leave it up to her to decide, but I told you I wouldn’t pursue her if you wanted her.”
Luke dangled the now-empty glass between his knees and waved his other hand dismissively. He shook his head. “No need. She’s all yours.”
What the fuck was he thinking?
Luke never walked away from something he wanted—and Marc had no doubt he wanted Angelina. Marc had admired his persistence and determination. When he set his mind to something, he damned well achieved it. Of course, Luke hadn’t gone after a woman since his wife had died—until now. Maybe he was just scared.
Dio, she scares the hell out of me, too
.
But Luke would have to be blind not to notice that Angelina had feelings for him, too. “Don’t you think she should have something to say about who she wants?”
“No. We…aren’t compatible.”
Marc would have laughed, if his friend didn’t look so fucking miserable. “If you were any more compatible, she’d have been jumping your bones, as you’d say.”
Luke raised his head to meet his gaze. The ache in his friend’s eyes squeezed the breath from his lungs. “That was before.” Marc came close to shaking some sense into him when he heard him say, “She can’t find out what I did.”