Smoke (The Carelli Family Saga #1) - Eden Butler Page 0,73
I’m so close.”
Then she moaned, grabbing my face in one hand, watching me. Her expression relaxed, satisfied as she kept at me, her pussy like a vice now. My girl kissed me soft, then sweet, then took the breath right out of my lungs with her lips and tongue.
“Shit…fuck…” My thoughts went blank and the only thing left of me was sensation. The smell of our bodies sweating. The feel of her wet, hot pussy taking everything left in me as I came. The noise of the bed creaking and our skin slapping together. The taste of her breath sweet like cinnamon, salty like sweat on my tongue the deeper she kissed me.
She collapsed against me. I wrapped my arms around her, twisting us to the side, grabbing the barely-there blanket to cover her as I brought Maggie against my chest.
“Amore mio,” I called her, cupping her face, my body on fire, ready to die if my heart never returned to normal beats.
“Dimitri, are you okay?” she asked, looking me over, her fingers grazing against my chest. When she grazed the scars on my skin, still pink but fading, I stopped her.
“I’ll do, bella.”
Truth was, I could fucking fly. With this woman, for this woman, I’d do anything.
21
Smoke
“Ma, stop…I couldn’t eat another bite.”
“You wasted away in that damn hospital. Let your mother feed you.” The woman ignored me, filling my plate up again, slapping my hand away when I tried to cover it. “Dimitri…don’t upset me.” The glare she gave me twisted something in my gut.
I gave up, letting my mother finish fattening me up.
“Here, open.”
“I can feed myself. I’m not an invalid.”
“While Maggie is changing the baby, I’ll look after you.” Ma cut the manicotti in half, then glared across the table when my kid sister snorted a laugh as Ma held the fork in front of my mouth. “You watch yourself, young lady.”
Antonia rolled her eyes, shooting me the bird when mama wasn’t looking, before I took the fork from her. “Ma, please. It’s been a month. I’m fine. Grazi, though.” I kissed her cheek, earning a hand wave from her, but I noticed the pink warming her skin as she brushed crumbs from the table.
“Speaking of Maggie and the baby—”
I glanced at my watch, nodding. If I’d put money on this shit, I’d have made a killing. Maggie and Mateo were living with me now and my mother saw that as some sort of sign. She’d spent most of the month since I left the hospital dropping hints about how nice it was for us all to be under one roof or what a sweet family we made.
“She’ll ask you again within an hour,” Maggie had promised earlier tonight as we made our way to my parents’ restaurant.
My folks wanted the town to celebrate my survival and it wasn’t in the people of Cuoricino to turn down a free Carelli meal.
“You think an hour?” I’d asked Maggie, nodding to Mr. Kempt as he and Vi crossed the street from her apartment. I’d nudged Maggie, pointing out how the old man touched her friend’s back as he walked her toward my folks’ business and earned a wide grin from her. “I’ll give her half an hour at best. She really wants me to lock you down.”
“She’s determined.”
Truth was, so was I.
“Now, Dimitri,” my mother continued, dropping her voice, “I don’t mean to tell you your business—”
“Since when?” I laughed when she rolled her eyes.
“But that was a scare with Maggie and that…man. Thank the Virgin it all worked out…”
Ma would never mention my killing Alejandro. It was always “for the best” or “God’s plan.” She never liked thinking of any of her kids as bad people.
Dante had been “misguided” when he ran drugs out of Dario’s bar.
Antonia was “lost” when she tried running off with Luca at twenty.
Dario was “honorable” when he had four more months tacked onto his sentence after some asshole tried offing his cellmate and my brother broke the guy’s jaw.
“But you know, son,” she continued, inching closer to me, pulling apart a breadstick to stuff in my mouth, “Antonia told me that Maggie had doubts about you even before everything happened.” Ma closed her eyes, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you but if you love her…” She let the comment hang, not finishing her thought, then my mother lifted her hands, fingers stretched as if to say, “but it’s not my business.”