Chapter 28
Don slowly resumed consciousness, but the aches that flared across his body made him wish he hadn’t. One of his ribs felt broken, his cheek was definitely swollen, and his legs pulsed with pain. He should be grateful. Because that meant he could at least feel his legs. And that meant he could still dance.
He blinked open his eyes and was surprised to find himself looking up at the familiar ceiling of his parents’ bedroom. The shadows licking the walls and the soft light suggested it was sometime in the late afternoon.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” He turned and winced immediately at the sudden movement. Arlene was sitting in one of her mother’s dining chairs at his bedside.
“What happened?” His throat was raw and his voice hoarse from what he’d endured.
“What do you remember?”
He closed his eyes and tried to conjure memories. Arlene’s face. Dash Howard untying him. A mad escape through a fire and a fish chute. Joan Davis driving a getaway car and Flynn Banks in the back seat. The fact that Arlene—and a host of people she loved—were now mixed up in Frankie Martino’s business hit him anew. He shouldn’t have left the clues for Lena; he should’ve let Frankie do whatever he was going to do and accepted his fate.
Then another memory came to him. He’d told Arlene he loved her. He suppressed the urge to explain himself, to tell her it was okay if she didn’t feel the same. Perhaps it was best for him to play dumb. Pretend it had been a moment of madness in the escape. One he didn’t even remember. That seemed easier than listening to her tell him she could never feel the same way. That committing herself to a man who’d been fool enough to sign a contract with a gangster wasn’t her idea of happily-ever-after. That he was a bigger idiot than she’d ever realized.
“I remember you rescuing me, and Joan driving us away. Then, nothing.”
“That’s about when you passed out.” Arlene nodded. She reached for his hand and gently entwined her fingers with his. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got run over by a truck.”
“Miraculously, that is one thing that did not occur this morning.”
“How long was I out?”
Arlene looked at her watch, a delicate gold against her wrist. “Seven, eight hours? It’s five thirty now.” She paused, and he could see her lower lip tremble.
He reached to cup her cheek, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder as he lifted his arm. “Don’t cry, Lena.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up,” she sniffled. “The doctor came. He assured me you were fine, but I was still afraid. Afraid that after everything, it was too late.”
He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed the top of it gently. “You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Don’t…not even as a joke, please.”
He glanced down. His shirt was gone, but he was still wearing the dress pants he’d had on the night of their date. The ones Frankie had kidnapped him in. There was a sturdy bandage wrapped around his chest and the pressure was soothing. He looked at her, and she answered the question in his eyes before he could voice it. “Mama. She did it before the doctor had a chance.”
He looked around, searching for Pauline, wanting to thank her. “She bandaged you up, and then she went to Bill’s. Some story about promising the boys she’d stay the night.” Don chuckled. It hurt to laugh. Jesus, everything hurt. “She’s not very subtle sometimes.”
He smiled and rotated his head to look at the room. A new quilt with a daisy-chain pattern covered him. The walls had been wallpapered in a light-pink floral print. It was welcoming and cozy. Nothing like the sterile blank walls of his parents’ room. “I like what she’s done with the place.”
“It’s the guest bedroom now.”
“Good. This place needed some new memories.” They were quiet for a second, a comfortable silence as he absorbed how much had changed. He needed to make sure he hadn’t lost his lucky penny in the melee.
He reached for it, wincing with the effort, and she stilled his hand. “What is it?”
“My pants pocket, the right one, is there something in it?”
She reached over and shoved her hand in his pocket, pulling out a penny that was worn from all the times he’d rubbed it in the last decade. She gasped when she realized what she was holding. “It can’t be,” she whispered.
She blinked back a fresh wave of tears, and his heart swelled with affection at the sight of how much it meant to her that he still had it. She looked at him, a question in her eyes, and he nodded, confirming it was her penny.
“I didn’t think you even gave it a second thought. I figured you bought sweets with it on the train or something.”
“I’ve carried it in my pocket every day since you gave it to me. It’s my good-luck charm. Though I’m beginning to think it’s defective.” That elicited a true laugh from her, and he was seized with a desire to kiss her. He pressed his elbow into the mattress and made an attempt to sit up. His body flared with pain in protest.
Arlene jumped up. “No, don’t. You’ll hurt yourself. What do you need?”
“You. I only need you.”
She smiled, and it made him think of daisies in June. Not letting go of his hand, she sat on the edge of the bed. She leaned forward ever so slowly and ghosted a kiss across his lips, her touch as gentle as a butterfly’s wings. She sat back and looked in his eyes as if she was asking for permission. He gave her a smile to tell her it was all right. “Where does it hurt?” she asked.
“Everywhere,” he groaned.
“Show me.” Something mischievous glinted in her eyes. “I want to make it better.”
He pointed at his split lip, and she leaned down once more to kiss it, this time brushing her tongue at the seam of his mouth and slipping it inside. She pulled away and he wanted to beg her for more. “Where else?”
He pointed at his swollen cheek, and she kissed him there, light and airy as a fairy’s touch. Then he pointed to his eyebrow. Another kiss there. His chest. A shower of kisses there. “Here.” He held up both his hands, and she kissed the inside of each palm tenderly, with the reverence of a saint. He pointed back to his lips and she returned to his mouth, following his lead as he deepened the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her tightly to him, threading his hands through her hair. He nipped at her bottom lip before tangling his tongue with hers. The kiss was both gentle and ferocious, one that filled him with a simultaneous wonder and a hunger for more.
She broke away from him and stood, pulling off her father’s oversized fishing sweater that she was still wearing. She folded it neatly, placing it on the seat of the chair she’d been sitting in. He chuckled. “Turnabout’s fair play, I guess.” She looked over her shoulder, biting her lip with a twinkle in her eye.
She turned around to face him once more and loosened the belt holding up her trousers. In moments, she was standing before him in nothing but the camisole that had been under her sweater, covering her bra and underwear. The late-afternoon light painted her body in shades of gold and yellow. He wanted to see it all, kissed by the sun. She looked at him, seemingly awaiting his signal, and he gestured at her slip. “Off.”
She reached for her slip and tugged it over her head. He managed to put weight on his elbows and sit up, so he could study her better. She unclasped her bra and dropped it to the floor. Her breasts were so perfect, small and round, with the strawberry-pink tips of her nipples pointing to him as if they were begging for his mouth. She touched herself, enjoying the journey from her shoulders to her waist. He stiffened at the gleam of pleasure in her eyes that overtook her. Her hand traveled farther south, and she closed her eyes in pleasure as she pressed her finger to her clit through her underwear and made a circular motion.
He groaned. “You’re going to kill me.”
She paused. “Should I stop? You’re hurt. I’m sorry, I—” A furrow of worry creased her brow.
“Don’t you dare,” he gritted out, trying to contain the growing sign of his want in his pants. “I’m fine. And even if I wasn’t, this would be a heavenly way to die.”
She bit her lip and blushed. He loved her like this. Shy. Unsure of herself. It was so different from how she was in life, commanding, certain of what she wanted, the one in charge. “Do you need more pillows?”
“No, I don’t need more pillows,” he growled.
“But you’re wincing.”
“I’m trying to stop myself from spending in my trousers before you’re even finished undressing.”
“Oh.” The blush deepened and spread across her chest, giving a rosy sheen to the golden color of her skin in the sun. She looked like Venus rising from the seafoam.
“Take them off.” He needed to see her. All of her. To know that this wasn’t a dream. That she was real, right here in front of him. That she was the most real thing he’d ever known. More real than dancing, than music, and more real than Frankie fucking Martino. What a first-class idiot he’d been, severing ties with her.
Staying away had always seemed to make sense. Now he could scarcely remember why. In a list of monumental mistakes, losing ten years of having her in his life was the biggest one he’d ever made. He should’ve known that she wouldn’t judge him. That she’d understand. Hell, she wasn’t even afraid of Frankie. When Don needed rescuing, Arlene hadn’t abandoned him. But instead had recruited a whole posse to save him. And now she was here before him, giving him all of herself.
She looped her thumb inside her plain cotton underwear, and despite the lack of lace or embellishment on them, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. She yanked downward and he nearly bucked at the sight of the titian curls that emerged. He wanted to bury his face in them. She stepped gingerly out of her underwear and stood completely naked before him. “Come here,” he growled.
“But you’re hurt—”
“Every bone in my body could be broken, and I’d still need to have you right this second.”
She kneeled gently on the bed, treating him as if he were a porcelain doll that might break if she moved too quickly. To hell with that. He reached out and slid his hand between her legs. God, she was soaking wet. He didn’t think it was possible, but he grew even harder as he cupped her in his hand. She sighed in pleasure and widened for him. He pushed the pad of his thumb to her clitoris, and she shivered in anticipation. His movement was limited, but he nudged her thighs farther apart with his knuckles and proceeded to fill her with two fingers. She gasped.
“You like that?”
“Yes, I… Please.”
He chuckled and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Always so impatient.” But he began to slide his fingers in and out, working at her clit with his thumb at the same time. She was mewling, little gasps of pleasure in time to the rhythm of his hand. He could tell she was close by the red flush that suffused her body and the tight grip of her muscles around his fingers. He curled his fingers, and she cried out, her release hitting her like a tidal wave and drenching his hand. If this was a dream, it was the best damn one he’d ever had.
***
Arlene couldn’t breathe. All she could see were stars dancing in her vision. She’d never come like that before. Suddenly and violently. Her heart was racing, and she struggled to come back down to earth. But when she did, Don was there, grinning at her like he’d won some sort of prize. She had to admit, if there were awards for such a thing, he’d certainly have earned one. He smirked and raised his hand to his mouth, making a show of licking his fingers. He savored it, and she couldn’t look away, entranced by the mere pleasure he derived from the taste of her.
“What do I taste like?” she blurted out. She blushed and buried her face in her hands. “Forget I said that. That’s ridiculous.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, nudging her chin from her hands and holding it so he could meet her gaze. “Like honey and earth.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Like salvation.”
She lifted her right leg, still wobbly from her orgasm, and straddled him, bracing her hands on either side of his head and leaning down to kiss him. Her hair cascaded in a curtain around them, shielding them from the world. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed back, the tips of her breasts grazing his chest.
“Is that a good groan or a bad groan?”
“Good groan.” He smiled. She pressed a kiss to his lips and let him take her hand and move it to the button on his slacks. As she kissed him, she undid it, her fingers needing no guide as they pulled down the zipper and found the hard rod nestled inside his boxers. She reached beneath the waistband and took him in her hand, relishing the feel of him, velvet heat and steel together. She moved to shimmy down his body, but he wrapped his hand around her wrist and squeezed until she met his gaze.
There was a fire there, one fiercer and more dangerous to her person than what they’d faced on the docks this morning. This morning he’d told her he loved her. Before, he’d told her that he cared for her. That he’d protect her. But love? Had he meant it or had he simply been grateful for his rescue? Woozy from the punishment Frankie and his men had doled out? Did he regret it now? Perhaps he didn’t even remember. This man before her—loving her, bringing her to the edge of ecstasy—was the most dangerous thing in her life. And it had nothing to do with the gangster threatening him.
She wanted to be furious with him for keeping that from her, for not telling her the truth from the moment he’d wandered onto that soundstage and back into her life. But she couldn’t be furious because she knew he had been protecting her. Even if some part of it had been about his pride. Even if he’d been a fool. It was ultimately to keep her out of Frankie Martino’s orbit—and how could she be mad at that?
She turned, trying to make her way down his body, but with a wince he sat up and grabbed her by the shoulders. “No, Lena. I want you.” She met his eyes and searched for any hint of guile. Any sign that this wasn’t what she hoped it was. “All of you.”
He reached between them and moved to push his underwear and his pants down his legs. “You’re sure?” He’d been tentative before. Unwilling to take this next step. She’d thought it a sign of his fly-by-night attitude. A reluctance to truly make love to her so it’d be easier to cut and run, to abandon her all over again. And that was what she’d promised herself, wasn’t it? One night. She’d been kidding herself. One night would never be enough. She needed to know this was for keeps.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“Here?” This was his parents’ old house. Their former bedroom. Granted, her mother had completely redone it, but she didn’t want to make love to him here if all he could see was a room full of ghosts.
“I said the room needed some new memories.” He smiled, and she melted at the sight of his scar crinkling with his dimple. Only this morning she’d feared she’d never see that scar, that perfect imperfection again. She leaned forward and planted a kiss to the dimple. She felt him smile harder beneath her mouth. His hand slid under her bottom and teased at her. Two could play at this game. She wriggled, and he twitched beneath her. “Lena, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m going to explode.”
It was all she needed. She pushed his hands away and shucked his pants from his legs, kicking them off the bed. She scrambled to place herself above him, and he reached between them, guiding himself into her until she was fully seated with him inside her. It was…unlike anything she’d ever felt before. He stretched and pushed at her, but only in the most pleasant of ways. She felt full. No, not just full, whole with him inside of her. She placed her hands on either side of his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him, grinding her hips in a circle until he hissed with pleasure.
As she caught his bottom lip between her teeth and tugged, she lifted her bottom, rising ever so slightly off of him and then plunging down again. He placed a hand to her chest, kneading her nipple and bringing it to his mouth, sucking hard. It made her clench, and he throbbed inside her. This felt right. Like the only thing that mattered was him and her and the pleasure they could bring each other. She rearranged herself so he was even deeper inside her, the knot of her clit rubbing against his shaft.
He looked at her and wrapped his hand in the curls of her hair at the bottom of her neck, kissing her with a bruising passion. She rode him harder, each upward thrust hitting something unknowable inside her that offered an answer to a question she’d never known she’d asked. He kneaded her breast with one hand, while he held her to him with the other, their chests pressed together as their movements became more frantic and jerky. He clasped his palm to her cheek. “Look at me.”
She did as he asked. There was something wild in his eyes. She was certain she had the same look. “I want to see the moment you come apart,” he whispered.
The words were enough to send her tumbling over the edge, a wave of pleasure cresting, then crashing over her. As she rode out the last of it, he strained and pressed his forehead to hers, his climax pushing a guttural sound from his mouth. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as if he were clinging to her for dear life. When he finished, he collapsed back against the pillows, bringing her with him. She panted against his chest, her hair wild and strewn around her. She was untethered, a creature of the night, made of stardust and moonlight. Something wilder but altogether more human than she’d ever been before.
They were covered in sweat, struggling to catch their breath, but all she could hear as she pressed herself to him was the beat of his heart, fast and hurried, but steady and true. It was as she’d always hoped, no, known it could be.