Chapter Eight

Aurelio

I had no business kissing her.

She'd been tipsy off the wine, all soft-eyed and flushed, dangling from that tree limb.

It wasn't that I didn't want to.

Christ forgive me, I'd hardly been able to think about anything else since she came down the stairs the morning after she sought refuge at my place, wearing the pajamas I'd bought her, her hair all a mess, her cheek still creased from the pillow, bleary-eyed, Judah wide awake and smiling on her hip, and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

I'd been worried at first that the attraction was simply to what she represented. A wife. Kids. The life I'd been hoping for.

Then, as the days went on, as we talked, as I got to know her laugh, and the way she danced around the living room with Judah, singing at the top of her lungs to old Disney movies, as she got lighter as she felt safer, her smile going less tense, as I got to know her, the urge to grab her and seal my lips to hers only intensified.

It wasn't about the dream.

It was about her.

Still, I should have had the self-control not to put my hands, or lips, on her.

She was a woman on the run from an ex who'd kidnapped and kept her and her son prisoner for years. A man who had abused her before she'd escaped from him the first time.

She didn't need another man pushing her to be physical when she was literally depending on me for her and her son's safety.

Those were the things on my mind ever since I put Judah down, pulled the blanket up over Claire, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

I needed to keep myself in line.

Maybe, eventually, if she decided to stay, I could consider having a conversation with her about my interest. Until then, though, I had to keep my hands—and everything else—to myself.

It seemed Claire was on the same page about that, too.

It had been three days since the kiss, and we both were friendly and weren't avoiding each other, but we didn't exactly get very close, either. No brushing past each other in a tight space or touching each other when passing something over the dinner table.

Things just went back to how they were before the kiss.

Claire was putting Judah down for a nap that afternoon as I came up the stairs, trying to make my footsteps quiet, since I knew that Judah could be difficult to get to go to sleep when he was overly tired, like he'd been from running around the backyard, chasing bubbles that Claire blew for almost an hour.

I didn't realize he was already down until I saw Claire creeping out of the room, making a beeline for the hallway linen closet, grabbing a fresh towel, then making her way to the hall bathroom.

But, before she could even put her towel on the hanger, Judah's whine started to drift out from the bedroom.

In the bathroom, Claire's head tipped back, staring at the ceiling as she exhaled hard.

Clearly frustrated, likely looking forward to a long shower, and a chance to unwind.

"I got him," I said, making her head whip over to find me looking at her.

"No, it's okay…" she said, starting to walk out.

"Angel, I've got him," I said, shaking my head. "Take your shower. He just needs another minute or two," I said, ducking in the room to grab the monitor, and handing it to her. "Go unwind."

She looked conflicted for a second, but then nodded.

"Thank you," she said, the words coming from her soul.

She was a fucking great mom. She never showed Judah anger or frustration, not even when he was being a bit of a pill, pushing boundaries for fun, or throwing a tantrum. She was always patient, correcting him calmly or diverting his focus to something more positive.

But no parent was perfect. Everyone hit their limit at times, and needed a break.

Clearly, Claire was there.

And like any baby, Judah probably sensed her frustration as she tried to get him to nap, so she could get a moment to herself, and fought her on it.

"Hey, bud," I said, pulling him out of his crib, and bringing him to the chair to read him a couple of books while he pulled his blanket up, and started rubbing the edge against his nose.

Two books later, he was out cold, his lids flickering.

He didn't even stir as I placed him in the crib, or pulled the bars back into place.

I was making my way out of the room.

And damn near ran right into Claire.

Wearing nothing but a towel.

Her skin all pink.

Smelling like that lotion I'd bought her, and my mind couldn't seem to help but imagine her slathering it on every inch of her body, an image that had me half-hard already.

She was slower to realize I was there, though, and rammed right into me.

"Whoa," she said, head whipping up. "Sorry," she said, starting to step back.

And it was then that her damn towel tuck came undone.

If my eyes had been on her face where they belonged, though, I might not have been able to reach out and grab it before it exposed her.

The thing was… the second my fingers touched her skin, her breath sucked in, her eyes heated, and her lips parted.

"It's okay," I said, trying not to notice the way her breasts were rising and falling from above where I was holding her towel against her body. "Do you want to take this towel from me?" I asked.

Her gaze lifted, watching me for a long beat, before giving me a small head shake.

"No?" I asked, even though every bit of me wanted to whip the towel away, to close my hands over her breasts, to press her against a wall and suck one into my mouth, to kiss down her stomach, to…

"No," she whispered, taking what seemed like a deliberately deep breath, making her breast tease against my knuckles.

That was all the fight I had left in me, leaving my body in a rush.

My hand released the towel as my other one grabbed her at the back of her neck, yanking her against me, and sealing my lips to hers.

I inhaled that sweet scent of her lotion, got lost in the warmth of her, and the softness of her skin as my hand drifted from the back of her neck, over her shoulder, then down her bare back.

Her hands drifted up my arms then wrapped around my neck, crushing her body to mine, and the feel of her breasts yielding to my chest had me going from half to fully hard in a blink.

My lips pressed harder into hers, hearing a surprised little whimper escape her, urging me on.

Anchoring an arm around her lower back, I started to move forward, walking her backward across the hallway, then down slightly, until I stepped her into my bedroom.

I turned, lowering down on the edge of my bed, and taking her with me, her knees going to either side of my thighs on the mattress, straddling me.

She tried to hold her weight up off of me, but my hands drifted down to her hips, sinking in, and lowering her onto my lap.

My straining cock pressed against her pussy, making a surprised moan escape her as her hips did a little involuntary wiggle against me.

My lips left hers, drifting over her cheek, the shell of her ear, down her neck.

Little shivers coursed through her as my lips teased over her shoulder, then back up her clavicle.

Grabbing her at her sides, I pulled her up, allowing my head to duck again, this time kissing down the center of her chest.

Then, waiting for a second to see if I'd pushed things too far, if she was going to object, I shifted my head to the side, sucking her nipple into my mouth.

A shudder racked her whole body as a gasp escaped her.

She arched backward, pressing more into the sensation as my tongue started to tease around the hardened point until her hips were writhing restlessly again.

I released her, moving across her chest to continue stoking the desire taking over her body.

Her little gasps and whimpers and the way her nails were digging into my shoulders, likely leaving little crescents, spurred me on as I teased with my lips, tongue, teeth, and hands.

Until her moans sounded more like cries, desperate for more.

I lifted my face, sealing my lips to hers as I yanked her back down, her pussy pressing against my cock. My lips muffled her moan as she shamelessly started to rock against me, trying to get relief from the aching need for release.

I let her ride me until the need to have more of her overtook me, making me lift up, shifting her down onto the mattress, my lips landing between her breasts, and moving downward.

Her heartbeat was frantic and her hips writhing slightly as I teased my way down her stomach, over her hipbones, down her thigh.

Then, finally, slipping between, sliding my tongue up her pussy, finding her clit, and starting to work it with relentless, slow, circles that had her fingers digging into my skull as her hips rose, silently begging for more.

And I was fucking happy to give, letting my fingers move between us, teasing at, then slipping slowly inside her as she let out a deep, long groan that had my cock twitching with need.

Claire's breathing got faster, shallower, as my tongue traced and my fingers thrust, her walls getting tighter and tighter as she got closer before, finally, her whole body tensed then relaxed as the orgasm crashed through her, making her cry out as her pussy squeezed my fingers.

I kept working her with my tongue, with my fingers, dragging it out for all it was worth, before easing up, teasing my tongue around her clit, but avoiding contact.

It wasn't long before her hips were rocking, before her ragged breathing became little whimpers of need once again.

Aching with need myself, I moved away, kneeling between her spread thighs, teasing her with my fingers as my free hand restlessly worked my belt free, then my button and zipper, before reaching inside to fist my cock.

"I can—" she started, trying to shift up.

"Shh," I said, shaking my head as I twisted my fingers inside her, teasing over her top wall.

There was time for more later. To feel her hands and lips on me. To feel myself deep inside of her.

Claire looked worried for a second, like she felt she should be doing something for me—which was the exact reason I wasn't going to let her yet.

I wanted her to know that this wasn't an obligation, that I didn't touch her and taste her because I expected the same, that I did it because I wanted to. And that I wanted the same from her.

I wouldn't pretend to understand the extent of the abuse she endured with Warren, but I figured with a bastard like that, there wasn't really such a thing as choice.

Claire relaxed back onto the mattress, her breasts rising and falling as her breathing got more ragged while my fingers worked her, stroking over her G-spot until that concerned look left her eye, leaving only need in its wake.

Only then did I fully free my cock, fisting it, and started to stroke myself.

Claire's heated gaze slipped from my face, to my cock, to where my fingers were thrusting between her legs, then back. Again and again. Her mind likely thinking what mine was, about what I would feel like inside of her, moving like I was working her with my fingers, like I was working myself with my hand.

Her little whimpers grew to moans as her pussy started to tighten around my fingers, driving me right toward that edge with her.

Her orgasm crested first, leaving her crying out and writhing.

"Fuck," I hissed as my own slammed through me, making my head fall back and my eyes slide closed at the intensity.

It wasn't until I felt my fingers slide out of her heat that I realized she was moving.

Slowly sitting up, her gaze on mine for a moment before I lost it as she lowered her head down.

The tip of her tongue teased over my cock, making my whole fucking body jerk at the unexpected contact.

She ran it around the head, down the shaft, and up again, cleaning me up, tasting me, before lifting her head, resting it against my stomach as we both waited for some sort of order to return to our bodies.

My hand went to the back of her neck, holding her against me, not quite ready for the moment to end, for everything else to come rushing back.

In the end, it was my phone that forced us apart.

It started to ring, went to voicemail, then started up again.

"You have to get that," she said, voice soft, a little mournful, but she moved away before I could get a look at her face.

She reached for the blanket at the bottom of the bed, pulling it over herself, then moved out of the bedroom, making me sigh hard as my fucking phone started up again, making it impossible to follow her, to see if she was alright.

"What?" I barked into the phone, more frustrated than I'd been in a long time.

There was a short pause before Milo's voice filled my ear. "The fuck's your problem?"

A sigh escaped me as I turned, sinking onto my ass on the foot of the bed.

"What is it, Milo? I'm not in the mood for bullshit today."

There was another pause at that, and it struck me how unlike me it was me to snap at someone in the family for a couple of phone calls.

I guess because, in the past, they'd never actually been interrupting anything.

"Luca wants to see us," he said. "At the docks in half an hour. But you might want to leave the fucking attitude at home. This is your shitstorm we're still cleaning up," he added.

Milo was nothing if not a straight fucking shooter. Never afraid to say whatever was on his mind. Even to the boss himself. Saying shit like ‘this meeting could have been a fucking email."

That mouth of his would have gotten his face bashed in a couple dozen times growing up if the other kids in school didn't know he had brothers in the grades above him who wouldn't tolerate that shit.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I know," I added, my gaze sliding to the open bedroom door. But Claire was long gone. "I'll be there."

"You're saying that like it's even a fucking option not to be," he said, snorting at me before ending the call.

I was half-tempted to give that little shit one of the beatings he'd missed out on in school. It would be character building for him.

But, objectively, I just knew the tension in me had nothing to do with him.

It was about Claire.

And everything I was starting to want with her.

Without knowing exactly how to broach it without making her feel trapped, or like she owed me something in return for a roof over her and her son's head.

"Fuck," I hissed, climbing off the bed, and going to wash up and change before making my way downstairs.

I didn't want to bother Claire, so I'd jotted a quick note on the island, saying I had a meeting, and I hoped to be back to cook dinner, but I would text her if I was going to be late.

Then I set the alarm.

And made my way to the docks.

Totally oblivious to what was about to go down.