Summer isn’t mine. She’s about as far from mine as a girl can get, considering she’s the boss’ daughter. And I just disrespected her in a multitude of ways. And the fact that she let me...hell, that bothers me more than anything else. Because if she’s selling her body for dances down at The Candy Store, chances are good she’s looking for some kind of outward validation from men. So her giving herself to me isn’t about an attraction between us—it’s about her post break-up neediness. I shouldn’t have taken advantage. Summer is still on the rebound—she definitely doesn’t need me to add to her confusion.
Besides, I want Summer for keeps. And I probably just spoiled any chance I have to make that a reality.
Summer
My body buzzes from the unexpected orgasm, my mouth and pussy tingling, swollen from being so thoroughly taken. My heart patters against my chest with a strangely lightened beat, as if one encounter with Carlo added an optimism that’s been missing since my breakup with John.
I blink up at my gorgeous...what? He’s like family, but we actually aren’t related at all. And friend doesn’t seem to be the right term after what just happened. But he’s not my lover or my boyfriend either. And he certainly is beautiful. His moss green eyes and dark, curling lashes make him movie-star sexy.
God, I remember all those nights after he first moved in with us. I was just seventeen—still in high school. He came in like a long-lost son. Played shadow to my dad. Quickly became his right-hand man.
Everyone watched, concerned my Uncle Joey would feel usurped, but it seemed to me like Joey was relieved. I don’t know the inner workings of the Family because they don’t discuss things with the women in the family, but we still know how things work. Where people stand. The hierarchical order of the made men.
Carlo came when my father needed someone he could trust and lean on. Someone to mold.
My mother loves him, too. He’s charming and respectful. He praises her cooking and helps her with any little thing around the house–like carrying in her groceries or emptying the trash.
I’m the only one in the family who doesn’t fawn all over him, and the only reason I feign total disinterest is that I’m afraid if I spend any time with him, I’ll end up throwing myself at him. And that would put him in an awkward position with my dad.
Kinda like what just went down.
A furrow develops between Carlo’s brows as he gazes down at me. “We’ll add this to the list of things we’re not telling your father, no?”
I have to laugh. Yeah, my dad would probably kill Carlo if he found out about this. “Agreed.”
My blood still heats with the memory of his fingers pressing inside me, and the way he ordered me over the arm of the sofa. Carlo oozes masculinity, authority, and power, with that ever-present hint of danger. Well, they say a girl falls for a man like her father. Carlo certainly has many of the same qualities. And he comes in such a beautiful package.
He looks at me, his expression serious. “Summer, tell me something.”
When can we return to making out? How about now? “What?”
“Have you—? Do you do this often?”
I stiffen, glaring. What in the hell is he asking me? Is he judging who and how much sex I have? I draw my hand back and slap him.
Carlo catches my wrist before my palm reaches his cheek. He moved lightning-fast, reminding me he’s a fighter, a dangerous man. His tight grip immediately loosens, and he brings my hand to his lips for a kiss. “Next time you raise a hand to me, you’ll find yourself standing in the corner with a plug in your ass.” His lips quirk and lids droop like the idea turns him on.
My eyes fly wide, and my pussy clenches. Jesus, Carlo truly has a kink. How did I not know this about him? Then again, why would I? People don’t just talk about their sexual proclivities at the Sunday dinner table.
His words jolt me into equal parts lust and annoyance. My palm still itches to slap him, which he must know, since my wrist remains caged in his strong fingers.
“Are you trying to slut shame me?”
He releases my wrist and sits back. “No. I—” He looks uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, bambina, it was a stupid thing to ask.”
I frown, not willing to let it go. “What did you mean by that?”
His forehead creases with regret. “I guess I’m the bastard who’s hoping no one else has taken advantage of you the way I just did.”
I flush. Did he take advantage? I didn’t view it that way. He didn’t get off—I did. The way I see it, he administered the punishment we agreed upon and then gave me a little pleasure to go with it. It didn’t seem like such a bad bargain to me. So what’s his problem? Is he fishing to find out if I’m seeing anyone?