Craving Carlo (The Adamos Book 3) Read online

  “By junior high they’d both lost their jobs, which meant no more money for booze. Dad wanted to sell the house but they couldn’t get it together to actually contact an agent and put it on the market. He started playing piano at bars because they’d pay him in booze.”

  I have to stop and take another deep breath before I go on. “Mom started hooking.”

  “Jesus,” Carlo says softly.

  “At first, all I knew was that she was gone at night and she and Dad were fighting a lot more. Then she started bringing the men home, so I stayed in my room and only came out in the mornings to go to school. I thought about running away — a lot — but I knew I couldn’t pass for eighteen yet. I’d had friends in school who were in foster care, and I didn’t want to wind up there.

  “Then, one night, she brought a man home earlier than usual. I wasn’t in my room yet. He looked at me, and I’d never seen that look from a man before. But I knew what it meant.”

  18

  You’re Here Now

  I stop again. Carlo’s arms come around me, gently. “Finish it, angel.”

  “Dad was home, jonesing because he couldn’t even get bar jobs anymore. They all got in a huddle, the three of them, talking low. I snuck close enough to hear.

  “They were haggling.” My voice breaks. “Over me. How much to sell me for.”

  His body goes so rigid I don’t even need to see his face to know the volcano is ready to blow. “I ran to my room and shoved my dresser in front of the door and stuffed what I could in my backpack. Then I climbed out the window and went to the bus station.”

  I wait, trembling, but he doesn’t speak, just keeps holding me. When I go up on my elbows, the inferno of rage in his eyes is both comforting and terrifying.

  “I know you could find them and … make them pay,” I say. “I’m asking you, please don’t. I know it sounds crazy, but they’re still my parents, if they’re even still alive. And they’re all I’ve got.”

  He closes his eyes and tucks my head against his shoulder and holds me close for a long time. When he finally speaks, he says, “One thing, babe.”

  “What?”

  His hands lift my head, framing my face. “They may be your only blood kin, but they’re not all you got. A lot of people in this town care about you.”

  My chin wobbles. I swallow hard and nod my head. “How’d you wind up at the café?” he says.

  “My car. I saw an ad for someone to paint a mural in a nursery. They paid me with the car, which seemed like a pretty good deal at the time. I didn’t know what a piece of crap it was. It broke down right in front of Revved.”

  The ghost of a smile flickers over his face. “Rico take care of you?”

  “Yeah. He had a bunch of his guys push the car into one of the bays. I told him I couldn’t pay him, but if he had anything that needed painting, or any odd jobs like cleaning, I could work it off.

  “He looked at me, and it was like he knew my whole story without me saying a word. Took me into the café, sat me down at the counter, and took Victor aside. Vic came over a minute later and asked me if I wanted a job.

  “I said yes, and he said he needed a waitress and could I start right away. Of course I said yes to that too. So then he told me meals were one of the job benefits, and what did I want.

  “Being polite, I said, oh, no, that’s all right. And he smiled and said, ‘Eat. Waitressing’s hard work and you’ll need your strength.’

  “So he made me a cheeseburger and fries. Best meal I ever had in my life. And then I put on a smock top and worked the next ten hours, because someone called in sick. When Vic cashed me out that night and gave me my tips I nearly bawled like a baby.

  “He and Rico helped me take my equivalency exam so I could apply to college. I’m pretty sure they fudged some of the details on the paperwork for me. They never even made me fill out an application to work there.”

  Carlo brushes a thumb along my cheekbone. “Probably would have helped you find somewhere to stay, too.”

  My shoulder does a jerky shrug. “I wanted to save my money. School’s expensive. Anyway, they’ve done enough for me.”

  “Pretty sure they don’t see it that way, babe. But you’re here now.”

  “About that—”

  “If you say one word about paying me rent, I’m gonna turn you over my knee.”

  19

  Reverie

  I get another full-body shiver, and Carlo’s eyes get warmer. “Have I mentioned lately how annoying you are?” I say, to fend off any immediate fulfillment of his promise.

  “Mmm.” His mouth quirks. “So how old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  “Practically an old lady, after everything you’ve been through.” It’s a gentle tease, but I wonder if he’s saying it because he knows I’m too young for him. One more reason I can’t get attached.

  He sits us up. “I gotta go see to some stuff. There’ll be eyes on the house. I want you to settle in, put your art stuff upstairs, make yourself at home. There’s an oversized tub in the master bath if you want to use it.”

  I have to blink back tears at that. It’s been years since I soaked in a bath. “Okay,” I whisper. Then an idea hits me, but I bite my lip to hold it in.

  Carlo notices anyway. “What, babe?”

  I shouldn’t ask, but I do. “Could I … have some friends over? Just some girls from Revved. Cait and Erin and Mickey. I don’t even know if they can make it but—”

  “Yeah. That’s fine.”

  “Thanks,” I say softly, and on impulse, lean down and touch my mouth to his. Some time later, I lift my swollen lips from a long, thorough kiss that’s left me drenched and dazed with need. “You, uh, have to go do stuff?” My voice is husky.

  “Wish I didn’t. But yeah, I do. When I get back, though …” Carlo pulls me down for one more quick, hard kiss that makes me moan into his mouth.

  He stops then, setting me carefully on my feet. “I’m leaving now or I won’t leave at all. See you in a little while.” He hands me a card. “All my numbers are on there. If you can’t reach me, call my office and they’ll find me.”

  “Okay.” I watch him go, and then do as he said and cart all my art things up to the studio. I’m already thinking of it that way — dangerous, so dangerous, but I can’t help it. I leave all the crates just inside the door, though, and don’t unpack anything.

  Everything else goes in the spare bedroom for now, and then I message the girls, asking if they want to come over. I’m braced for them to say no — they’re all off work by now, but it’s last minute, Cait and Erin spend most of their time with their men, and I don’t know Mickey that well.

  So I’m shocked and almost dizzy with glee when they all say yes. We agree to meet in an hour and I give them the address, then rush into the kitchen to see what I could offer for snacks, since it’s nearly dinnertime. After confirming that Carlo has enough on hand that I can play hostess, I go into the master bath.

  He’s obviously had guests in here, since there are a variety of shampoos and lotions scattered around. I have another jealous flash; but then, all his visitors could easily be Adamos, since there are so dang many of them.

  Someone’s left a bottle of bubble bath. Score. I pour a little in and sink down in the steaming hot water. I’m too keyed up about my friends coming to really relax, but that doesn’t stop my mind from imagining Carlo in here with me. It’s plenty big enough for both of us.

  The few minutes I allow myself in the tub are glorious. Deciding I can indulge myself just a little more, I take a quick shower to wash my hair and shave my legs. If I were going to be here alone all evening, I’d steal Carlo’s robe and greet him in it.

  Just the thought kicks my heart rate up to alarming levels. Now that it’s in my head, I can’t resist checking his closet to see if he has one. He does, so I go one step further and pull it on over my underwear.

  It’s soft and warm and smells like him, clean and male and distinctly Carlo. Breathi
ng deeply, I saturate myself in his scent. I never want to take this robe off.

  The doorbell breaks into my reverie. Has it been an hour already? I rush out to answer the door, barely summoning the presence of mind to check the security screen before I open it.

  “Oh my god.” I stop dead, my hand on the doorknob. Who are all these women? There must be at least a dozen of them on the front porch, with more coming up the walk. The driveway is full of cars.

  Cait and Erin are by the front door, and now Erin’s knocking. I open it just a tiny crack. “Guys?”

  20

  Into Next Week

  “Hi.” A stylish, statuesque brunette pushes past them and envelops me in a hug. “I’m Bianca — Carlo and Tonio’s sister. It’s so good to meet you.”

  Her entrance left the door open, and now all the women are filing in. “Uh … hi,” I say, at once bewildered and overwhelmed.

  “Carlo probably hasn’t told you a thing, has he?” she says with a huge smile, and then to a woman passing by, “Letizia, you can set up in the kitchen.”

  “Told me a thing about what?” I say in a barely audible voice.

  “Never mind, we’ll get to that. You sit right here.” She ushers me over to the recliner. “You’re our guest of honor.”

  “But —” I don’t get the chance to point out that if anything, they’re my guests, not the other way around, because she’s off in a flurry of activity, directing all the women pouring into the house.

  Cait and Erin materialize by my chair, a wide-eyed Mickey behind them. I give them an unmistakable “What the hell is going on?” look.

  “Count yourself lucky,” Erin says in a low voice. “You’re only getting half an invasion.”

  “Oh my god.” I remember now — the way the Adamos descended en masse on Tonio and Cait, and later Kosta and Erin. “They’re kind of —”

  Jumping the gun, I mean to say, but Cait gives my hand a squeeze before I can get the words out. “It’ll be okay,” she says. “I promise. Just go with it.”

  So that’s how I end up surrounded by a crowd of chattering, laughing, irrepressibly cheerful, insatiably nosy women. It turns out they’ve planned a spa evening, complete with drinks and food and pampering. Someone puts a chick flick on the tv, but with no sound, and someone else turns on the stereo, and the whole crazy thing somehow feels completely right.

  I slather my skin with lotion, paint my nails, and put on makeup. No one says a thing about me being almost naked under Carlo’s robe. I could take five minutes to slip away and change, but I like the robe too much to give it up. So I sip orange juice while everyone else has mimosas, and nibble cheese cubes, and let the conversation flow around me and over me, and deflect questions about me and Carlo with strategic hemming and hawing.

  It hardly seems like any time at all has passed when the door opens and Carlo’s there. Everyone goes instantly still. His eyes zero in on me, and for a long moment there’s only charged silence before his voice whips through the room.“Everybody out.”

  Oh shit. I sit frozen, unable to look away, while the women around me leap into action. They move with amazing speed and without saying a single word, and in what feels like no more than sixty seconds the house is quiet and empty and we’re alone.

  Carlo stayed right where he was while the evacuation was underway, his eyes locked on me. Now he prowls toward me, and he’s never been more dangerous. Or beautiful.

  “I didn’t invite them all,” I whisper as he nears me. “Just the Revved girls. I didn’t know—oh!”

  The last word comes out a near shriek because he’s tossed me over his shoulder again and is striding down the hall. “Carlo?” I say tentatively.

  “Wearin’ my fuckin’ robe,” he mutters.

  “I — I’m sor—”

  “With your hair down and your skin all soft and dewy. Jesus, woman, do you have any idea how goddamn sexy you are?”

  My world tilts on its axis. “You’re not mad,” I whisper.

  “Mad is not the word for what I am.” He tosses me on the bed with enough force that I bounce. “I want to fuck you into next week.”

  21

  Benediction

  Oh my god. “Carlo,” I whisper, and then I just lie there and watch him strip. His body is so gorgeous, the ripple of his muscles so mouthwatering, I want to freeze time so I can draw him. And then make him put his clothes back on, so I can watch him take them all off again before I jump him.

  But that’s not happening. He vaults onto the bed and covers me, and his heat could melt glaciers. “Feels like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this,” he says, staring into my eyes. “How the hell did I just meet you yesterday?”

  I don’t get to answer because he kisses me then, and it sears me from the inside out. I arch against him, my nails digging into his back, almost climaxing just from the energy pouring between our bodies.

  When we come up for air, he winds a hand into my hair. “You scared of me, angel?”

  “What?” I don’t even understand the question. “No.”

  “Because I can’t be gentle. Not right now. You okay with that?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “You need me to stop, I will. I can go sleep on the couch.”

  Something shifts inside me; some tiny thing, long ago dislocated, clicking back into place. Suddenly I’m in the eye of the storm, surrounded by fearsome power but utterly safe. “Don’t go,” I say, taking his face in my hands. “Stay right here and fuck me into next week.”

  His eyes go hot, his mouth crashes down on mine, and there are no more words.

  Carlo may not be gentle, but he’s still got way more patience than I do. He strips the robe, and then my bra and panties, off me inch by inch, exploring me with devastating thoroughness. Each new sensation slams into me with the force of a thousand hurricanes: his stubble scraping my skin, his hot mouth on my breast, his teeth grazing my nipple.

  By the time his fingers delve between my legs, I’m slippery and frantic. He growls against my skin, and I tremble in anticipation. “Hurry up,” I demand breathlessly.

  “No.” Kissing and nipping his way down my body, he works a finger inside me, then another. “Holy fuck, you’re tight,” he says, his hot breath tickling my clit.

  I can only whimper in response, my need too great for words. He blows against my swollen bud, and my hips jerk in supplication. “All right, angel. Let me take care of you.” And he does, his mouth devouring me while his fingers open me up.

  His tongue licks my folds apart, feasting on my slick, swollen flesh. When he reaches my clit again, he covers me with his mouth while his fingers curl against some place deep inside. I grab his head and hold him against me, panting. He sucks gently, then harder, his fingers pressing that spot over and over, until my body’s quivering on the edge of release. And then he uses his teeth, and I shatter.

  Moving up, he covers me again, kissing me deeply, and I can feel his cock hot and heavy and thick against my thigh. “You on the pill?” he asks.

  I nod. Carlo brushes my hair back from my face. “I usually suit up no matter what. But I want to feel you.”

  Another nod, and he seats himself at my entrance, his eyes locked on mine. When he surges into me, my eyes roll back in my head and my legs wrap around him. He stops, buried to the hilt. “All right, angel?”

  I can hear it in his voice, how much it’s costing him to hold still and ask me that. There aren’t any words for how perfect, how amazing he feels inside me. I wish I could tell him. Taking his face in my hands, I say the only words I can. “Don’t hold back.”

  “Fuck,” he says, so softly it sounds like a prayer. Then he’s driving hard, his beautiful cock stroking every inch of me, and sensation rockets through my system with every rough thrust, pleasure like nothing I’ve ever known taking me up and up until the climax tears through me with ecstasy-tipped claws. I clamp hard around him, but he’s not stopping or slowing even a little bit, and the pressure builds again, bigger and
bigger until it bursts outward and I come again, and then again, and again, and he shoves my knees up so he can plunge even deeper, as my nails score his back and my throat is raw from screaming his name and he fucks me even harder, and I don’t stop coming even as he empties himself inside me, shuddering through his own release.

  His weight is like a benediction. I hold him close, reluctant to let go even when it’s hard to breathe. Eventually he rolls us over so I’m sprawled on top of him, my head on his chest. “You okay, babe?”

  “I’m somewhere in next week.” My voice is slurred and thick with satiation. “You’ll have to ask me then.”

  His hand strokes down my hair before he brings the sheet up to cover us. “Good, gioia mia.”

  I’m on the verge of dozing off, but my eyes open at that, staring sightlessly across the room. Italian endearments, according to Cait and Erin, are a great big warning sign that the Adamo Alpha Claiming Process is well underway.

  If I were a good person, I’d find a way to get out of here. Sooner or later — probably sooner — he’s going to wake up and realize he deserves better. But I’m selfish, so I stay right where I am, snuggled against the man who makes me feel such beautiful, impossible things that I know it can’t last.

  22

  Just My Imagination

  “Carlo, please.”

  We’re in bed, me straddling him, his cock deep inside me. I want to ride him, hard and fast, but he won’t let me. Instead, his hands are on my hips, holding me still, while he slowly, so slowly, flexes his hips, moving inside me just enough to drive me crazy.

  I clamp around him and he stops altogether, making me fling my head back in frustration. “Carlo, you’re killing me!”