Hooked: A Christmas Romance: The Doyles, Boston Irish Mafia Romance Page 8

  “God, yes,” she whispers.

  I slide a hand into her coat and cup her breast through her shirt.

  She moans and pushes her ass against my cock.

  “You’re a little tease,” I say with a groan.

  “Vinny.”

  The way she whispers my name, heavy with desire, makes me want to fuck her right here, right now. It’d broken me under the mistletoe and it’s breaking me again.

  I run my hands over her breasts, thoroughly enjoying how she grinds against me. But then I hear footsteps, and we both freeze.

  If her uncle catches us, what could I say?

  It’s like being a damn teenager again. We move away from each other and she unpacks the crates of plants. She’s shaking, still as turned on as I am.

  Danny comes in a few minutes later.

  “It looks great in here. Wow! When the trees are lit up it’ll be like a picture from a magazine.”

  I can’t look at Sia, so I look around the room instead. She’d put up string lights on the lower part of the wall since I’d been in last, and tied bows to the chairs, making them look like little presents. She’s dropping poinsettias off on the tables now, and in front of the bar Kieran and I had built. It’s not fancy—just a small area with some built-in shelves and a sink, but the plumbing had taken forever to install.

  “Thanks,” Sia replies brightly. “I’m going to hang some wreaths in a bit, and then we should be good to go except for the trees.”

  “I’m going to pick up some dinner,” Danny continues. “Nothing like Vinny here could make, but I’ll be back, and then maybe we could watch a movie?”

  “Sounds good,” Sia says.

  Danny leaves, and we laugh like kids who got away with something. I help her hang the wreaths, and she plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “You want to watch a terrible holiday movie with us?”

  God no, but I want to press up next to her on the couch, so I say yes.

  13

  Sia

  It’s Chinese food, and then Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Vinny provides running commentary about the exploitation of Rudolph.

  “So it’s okay to be different as long as you’re useful,” he says, scoffing at the screen. “Good message there.”

  I’d never thought of it that way, but he’s not wrong. Would anyone accept Rudolph’s shiny red nose if it didn’t cut through bad weather?

  “I don’t know,” my uncle says. “That little girl deer there seemed to like him regardless.”

  “Clarice,” I supply.

  Vinny grumbles, and It’s a Wonderful Life comes on next. Uncle Danny groans.

  “My life is wonderful enough now.” He presses a hand to my shoulder. It surprises me to hear him say that, but I’m glad. “I’m going to bed. See you two tomorrow. Big party going on I hear.”

  I grin at him, and as soon as he’s out of sight, snuggle up next to Vinny. He slips his arm around me, and I fall asleep.

  I always forget how long that movie is.

  I wake up covered in a blanket, alone on the couch. How long had I been asleep? Feels like hours.

  Actually I love that movie, despite the length, but not for the reasons people might think. It’s hilarious to me that the worst thing the producers could dream up for Mary, had she not married a loud and emotionally closed off George Bailey, was being a, gasp, unmarried librarian. But I do love seeing the impact that one person can make on a community, and I like to keep that in mind when I’m feeling lonely and insignificant.

  I stretch and yawn before abandoning the warm nest of the couch for the third floor. I change into my nightgown. It’s basically a flimsy silk slip with lace at the top and the bottom, but it was either this or A Little House on the Prairie type flannel gown and I just couldn’t do that. Normally I’d throw my robe on, but everyone’s asleep so I can wash my face without getting water all over the robe.

  Wouldn’t mind Vinny finding me like this.

  I don’t bother to shut the bathroom door and grab my toothbrush.

  Hopefully Vinny hadn’t been too bored watching the movie, but then again, he’s not shy about leaving when he wants. I’m honestly grateful for that clarity.

  He said he’d liked spending time with me, and I could believe that.

  But he’d also said he didn’t think relationships were worth it.

  I drop my toothbrush into the holder and grab a clean face cloth from the linen closet.

  Vinny and I are so different that it’s incredible we can get along at all. He may not think I’m fake and vapid anymore, but he definitely thinks I have too many feelings, despite the fact that I keep them tightly wrapped, and that I buy my way out of problems.

  I think he’s too closed off, and that he’s pretending to prefer austerity when in reality he’s afraid of being hurt again.

  Maybe we’re both a little bit right and a little bit wrong. But it doesn’t matter, because in the end he wants to be alone and I don’t.

  I wash my makeup off and slather on moisturizer. The ocean air is super drying, and my skin hasn’t recovered from the near drowning.

  Not vapid, but I suppose I am a little vain. Nothing wrong with looking your best.

  Sia, who are you arguing with?

  But actually, I should go downstairs and get some water. Moisturizer is only one part of the equation.

  I go into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. I drink half of it and decide to refill it before returning to bed. Turning from the kitchen into the front hall, I run into a large person. Before I can stop myself, I let out a pathetic, frightened little squeak. I live alone, so running into a person, in the dark, late at night, trips my fear response. Strong arms grab my shoulders.

  “Hey. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  I’ve dropped my water, and once again I am soaking wet in Vinny’s arms.

  “Sia?”

  His voice is husky with sleep. The panic subsides, and my libido takes over.

  He doesn’t have a shirt on.

  Just soft cotton pants slung low on his hips.

  I’m willing myself to say something but instead stare at his muscular chest. He’s got abs like you see in the movies, probably from all the physical labor he does. A layer of hair covers the upper part of his chest, and I want to run my fingers over it, feel it beneath my fingertips. Really, I want to touch all of him if I’m being honest.

  “You alright?”

  “Yes,” I choke out finally. “I was just getting some water. Not quite the way I wanted to absorb it.” I look down at my nightgown, which clings to me scandalously. My nipples stand at attention, more from the large, handsome, dripping-with-testosterone man in front of me than the cold dampness of the water.

  “Let me get a towel,” he says. But he doesn’t move, just rakes his eyes over me in a way that makes my whole body quiver. Heat pools between my legs. We’ve been teasing each other all day.

  He stares at me for a few, long seconds before disappearing into the kitchen. I pick up my glass and follow him. He pours a glass himself—I suppose that’s why he had come down in the first place—but then he pushes it back on the counter.

  I place mine in the dishwasher. Should I apologize? I don’t know the right take here. He seems a little dazed, probably still half asleep, so I pick up a towel and leave to mop up the water.

  He finds me on my hands and knees, and the intensity of his gaze almost frightens me.

  “I don’t want Uncle Danny to slip,” I whisper.

  He pulls me up to my feet, holding me by the elbows inches away from him. I drop the towel. We’re under the archway where the kitchen meets the front hall, and the heat I feel from him is scalding. But I want more. My hands itch to caress every inch of his body. I press my thighs together, trying to stave off my desire.

  “I’m trying so hard,” he says, his voice caught between a whisper and a growl.

  Trying hard for what? To avoid those messes he mentioned earlier?

  My breath hitches, c
oming in small gasps. His eyes are dark. The tension and closeness of his body leave me light-headed. I want him so badly, and I want him to want me just as desperately. He’s holding me so firmly that I can’t move, can’t touch him. It’s maddening, and I let out a small, frustrated whimper.

  His control snaps in an instant.

  He crushes me against him, kissing me with a fierceness that makes my knees shake. His still calmness is gone, and I respond eagerly, opening myself up to him.

  He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, his hands roaming down my back and over my ass, squeezing firmly. Our tongues and teeth clash, and I suck his lower lip into my mouth as I slowly draw my knee up, running my inner thigh over the outside of his leg. I’m too short to get what I want, though, and his erection presses into my belly rather than into my throbbing center.

  “Sia.” His voice is a warning. Clearly, it’s been a long time for him, too. But I don’t care. I want him. I pull his head down so I can whisper in his ear again.

  “Please, Vinny. Touch me and see how much I want you.”

  His cock jerks against my belly.

  “Goddamnit,” he rasps, pushing me away from him. He’s got a frenzied look in his eyes that makes me even wetter. But he’s fighting to get that control back. He’s breathing heavily now and draws a hand over his beard.

  The intensity of his desire followed by the hard stop makes me feel faint.

  I stumble over and sit on the entryway bench. I put my head in my hands for a second, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

  When I open my eyes, Vinny’s squatting on the floor next to me. He takes my left hand and presses a hot kiss to my palm.

  “Don’t think for a moment that I don’t want you too,” he growls. He traces a finger over the sweetheart neckline of my nightgown, over the curve of my breasts, before gently sliding one of the straps back over my shoulder.

  “I want you so goddamn bad. You know I do.”

  Then what is the fucking problem?

  I’m so keyed up right now that I’m almost willing to beg for it, but I won’t. He’s trying to keep from falling into something he can’t fully commit to, but the least he could do is get a girl off. I’m not asking for marriage here. There are a lot of things in between.

  “Vinny.” My voice is ragged, even to my own ears. “I haven’t had sex in a very, very long time.”

  That fiery, possessive look creeps back into his eyes. Okay. I’m dripping wet and I need to get off of this bench. I stand up and smooth the lines of my nightgown.

  He licks his lips, hungrily taking me in. His fingers skim the lace around my thighs, and he slides it up to my hips. He hooks an arm around my waist and yanks me against him. The hard planes of his chest tease my nipples, and I dig my fingers into his skin.

  “I can’t leave you like this,” he growls in my ear. “I can’t leave you all hot and bothered.”

  I’m about to make a joke about his gentlemanly habits when he scoops me up and carries me into the kitchen. He sets me on the edge of the counter.

  I admire his broad shoulders and muscular chest, finally able to run my fingers over the hair covering his pecs. I explore him as long as he’ll let me, tracing every masculine inch of his chest. His eyes are closed, and I suddenly wonder if he’ll regret this in the morning. This must be out of the ordinary for him, and as much as I want him, I don’t want to add to his pain.

  I place my hands on his shoulders.

  “Are you sure about this?” I ask. “I’m sure. But if you don’t want.” He kisses my neck before I can finish the question, his beard scratching my sensitive skin.

  “I’m sure.”

  He drags his calloused palms over my silk-covered breasts, pressing against my nipples. He pulls my panties off slowly and pushes my knees apart with a jerk.

  It’s so fucking hot. I could almost come from the intensity of his gaze alone. From how much he wants me.

  “God, you’re perfect,” he says, stepping between my legs and teasing my nipples with his fingertips. He gives them a slight pinch, and I buck against him.

  Now I’m ready to beg.

  “Vinny. Please. If you don’t do something, I’m going to die.”

  He smirks, pinches my nipples again, and then returns to my parted thighs. He watches my face as he pushes one of those rough, delicious fingers into me agonizingly slowly.

  “Ah, god,” I groan. “More, please.”

  My eyes are closed, my head thrown back. I want this so badly. I need it.

  “You’re so hot,” he murmurs into my ear as he slowly slides in a second finger. I whine, and he gently caresses my clit with the ball of his thumb. “God, so tight and wet.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to my nipple though the silk and I let out a strangled cry.

  He strokes the taut peak with his tongue while his fingers softly explore my pussy.

  It’s all slow, languorous teasing and I’m going to lose my mind.

  He slides up to my ear again. “Are you ready?”

  “Fuck, yes. Please, now.”

  He kisses a trail down my neck, stopping to bite where it meets my shoulder as he plunges his fingers deep into me. I jerk against him with a moan, and he moves back to my nipples. He starts sucking one roughly, his free hand pinching, pulling, and rolling the other. I make an absolutely obscene noise, and he speeds up the thrusting of his fingers, twisting his thumb on my slippery clit as he does. He’s slamming into me at an incredible pace, hard, how I like it, and I’m bucking against his hands, his mouth.

  “Vinny,” I cry. “Please.” I tilt my hips, allowing him to reach even deeper inside me, and he groans. He moves a hand from my nipple to pull my hips even closer, keeping them in place so I can’t back away from the building pressure.

  It’s so intense it’s almost painful, but it’s so, so good. I’m vibrating around his fingers, and he tightens his grip on my hips.

  He bites my nipple gently and then presses his mouth against mine. We kiss passionately to keep me from screaming out my orgasm, as it crashes hard and fast, like that 20-foot wave. I’m whimpering against his mouth as he draws me through it, my pussy clenching his fingers.

  Once it passes, he eases his fingers out. I gasp, and my pussy throbs at the loss.

  “God, your cock would feel so good in me right now,” I moan.

  “Fucking Christ,” he says. He leans forward and kisses me again.

  He leans back to admire his handiwork, and I am absolutely undone. Does he have condoms? I should get some. My eyes move to his cock, and I run my tongue over my lips.

  “You’re insatiable,” he says, pulling me off the counter, my legs wrapping around his waist.

  He’s not wrong. I’d love nothing more than for Vinny to carry me up to his bed and fuck me there as well.

  He does carry me up the stairs but places me on my bed.

  Alone.

  “I like you a lot, Sia,” he says, caressing my cheek. “But you’re leaving in a few days.”

  I’m still in a fuzzy headspace from my orgasm, but I don’t want him to leave. “I like you too. And Boston isn’t that far away.”

  “It’s far for someone like me.”

  Which is why he doesn’t want to jump into bed with me. It stings, but he’s been nothing but up-front about who he is. I need to dial back my feelings before things move beyond my control.

  “I understand.”

  He searches my face, wondering if I’m just telling him what I think he wants to hear, but I do understand. I don’t like it, but that doesn’t matter. Vinny is a good man. But that doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t want the same things I do. I stroke the underside of his arm.

  “Goodnight, Vinny.”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead and then heads out the door.

  14

  Vinny

  Shit.

  Shit Shit Shit.

  That was probably a mistake. I went downstairs to get a glass of water, and next thing I know she’s in front of me in a tight li
ttle silky slip, soaking wet on her hands and knees like something out of a goddamn wet dream.

  If we’d just stopped at kissing.

  But then that hungry look in her eyes.

  I wouldn’t be a man if I’d left her unsatisfied.

  And she was so perfect. So eager, so responsive. I bet she tastes amazing.

  Probably like a fucking sugar cookie.

  I throw a towel over Taco’s bowl. I don’t want him seeing what is definitely going to happen next.

  I hope this doesn’t complicate things between us. I really do like Sia, but it doesn’t change the fact that she deserves more than I can give her. She needs someone who can protect her and make her feel safe and wanted all the time. Someone who can be open in a way I can’t be.

  God, I hope I can forget how wet she was, and how her pussy felt clenched around my fingers.

  I imagine burying myself in her sweet, tight pussy, her making those delicious whimpering cries as I make her come even harder than she did fucking my fingers on that counter. Stroking my cock, I move to more intricate fantasies—sneaking onto the rescue boat and eating her out while she tries not to scream. Closing up the fish shack when there’s an enormous line because she’s whispered in my ear that she’s wet and needs me to make her come, now.

  My balls tighten and I come into a sock like I’m fifteen again. I toss it in the trash and roll over on my back. It doesn’t escape my notice that my fantasies about Sia have migrated from the present into the future.

  Maybe she’s worth it.

  The smell of coffee wakes me up in the morning. Taco still has a towel over his bowl.

  “Sorry, buddy,” I say. He weaves angrily until I feed him.

  I take a shower and pull on some clothes before heading downstairs.

  To the kitchen.

  I’m glad to find it empty.

  I think.

  I pour some coffee and head to the ballroom. Sia’s on the ladder again, this time in boots. She’s wearing a silky purple blouse with a big bow tied at the neck tucked into a pair of wide legged wool pants. She’s too busy replacing a bulb in the light string on the tree to notice me.