More than just fucking. More than just his enormous, tattooed body bringing mine the escape of a rough release. As I collapse against his chest, my knees are shaking and my thighs feel like twin rubber bands, loose and bendy.
He pulls me close, the smell of our sex heavy in the air. It’s delicious and decadent. It’s more than just his smoky-whiskey scent, the fresh air, clean sheets, and promises that made me want him in the first place. This is us, the union of what we become when we’re one. As I wrap my arms around his sculpted chest, I let my eyes flutter shut.
This is it. I know it is.
This is us.
This is love.
And it’s just the beginning.
22
DYLAN
I stop walking, standing outside the front door with my fingers laced with Rosie’s. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
She tugs me forward, twisting the knob. “Don’t be silly. Everyone’s expecting you, and they’re excited.”
“Everyone?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah. The entire family is here.”
I yank her backward as she starts to take a step.
She lets out an exaggerated grunt. “Seriously?”
I tilt my head, needing the affirmation so I don’t walk into a shitshow without being prepared for the worst. “Even your dad? He’s excited?”
She nods, leaning into me and running her free hand over my chest. “Even my dad.”
I blink, still confused as fuck. The man has hated me since the day he laid eyes on me. “You’re lying to me, wildcat.”
“He knows he’s been wrong about you your entire life. We had a long talk, and he knows it’s time to make amends.”
“Make amends?” I repeat, no more clued-in than when we pulled in.
“He fucked up, and now he’s going to make sure you know he’s sorry.”
My eyebrows rise. “He’s going to apologize to me?”
She nods. “But I hope you’re willing to do the same since you’ve called him an asshole more than once.”
“Well, it’s not like he was nice to me.”
“He’s not nice to anyone, Dylan.” She flattens her palm on my chest, right over my heart. “You can either forgive each other and start fresh, or we’re going to have a very long and tension-filled life. I’m a daddy’s girl, and I always will be. So please, do me a favor and play nice.”
I wrap my arm around her back with her hand still clasped in mine. The position makes her back arch, pushing her tits against me. “I can do nice, wildcat.”
She laughs and smacks my front with her free hand. “I’m being serious.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “So am I.”
“Sweet Jesus. This is going to be a long day.”
I lean forward, bending my neck, and place a soft, chaste kiss against her lips. “Nah. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she smiles up at me with the purest, most beautiful smile. When she looks at me, I forget all the bad shit in my past and think only about her and the good things in my life.
“Can we go in now? My makeup is starting to melt.”
“You don’t need to wear that shit on your face. You’re so goddamn beautiful without it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wear it for me and you. I like it. Why? Do you hate it?”
I shake my head. “No, wildcat. I don’t hate it, but I never want you to change who you are for me. I don’t think there’s a time when you’re more stunning than when you first wake up in the morning.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she mutters, finally pulling me into the foyer of her grandparents’ house. “We’re here!”
“Fuckin’ great,” I mutter, earning myself the stink eye from the princess of light.
“Behave.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, toeing off my boots in the foyer and pushing them into the neat little row that takes up half the space.
How many freaking people are here? Based on the number of shoes, sandals, and boots, it looks like half the town has taken up camp at the Gallo compound.
“Back here!” a woman yells back, but it isn’t her grandmother’s voice.
“Is your entire family here?” I ask, not moving as quickly as she’d like since she’s pulling me forward with all her might.
“Yep. All of them.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, hating this.
Maybe if I’d grown up in a family instead of with only my father and brothers, I wouldn’t be shit at being around other people’s families. But here I am, shitty with my people skills and never one to worry about hurting any feelings. But I can do this. I did it the other night with her grandparents, and I didn’t come off like a complete jackass.
“Dylan,” her grandmother says, walking toward us with her arms extended.
I freeze for a second, because no one in my family greets one another with a hug. You’re lucky if you get a damn hello or so much as a grunt of recognition.
“Hey,” I say as my arms open on their own like she’s somehow controlling my movements.
Her hug is firm and short before she backs away, still holding on to my arms. “We’re so happy you’re back.”
“I’m honored to be here,” I tell her, and I’m being sincere.
Rosie rolls her eyes again before laughing at me, knowing I’m on my best behavior and not acting entirely like myself.
“I hope you brought your appetite because if you leave here hungry, it’s your own damn fault, baby.”
I smile at her, loving the ease of the woman. “I’ll eat everything I can.”
“Good,” she whispers.
“Lemme see him,” a woman as old as Rosie’s grandmother says, moving right past my girl without as much as a hello.
“Aunt Fran. Wait,” Rosie says, holding up a hand. “Oh, forget it. Good luck,” she says to me and laughs as she finally drops her arms.
I stare down as this little woman stalks right up to me, reaches out, and starts rubbing on me like we’ve known each other our entire lives and have been intimate for just as long too.
“Oh, he’s nice,” she says as her hands continue to roam. “Firm and young. Best combination.”
“Dylan, this is our very handsy aunt Fran, Sal’s sister,” Grandma Gallo explains. “Don’t pay her any attention. She just enjoys men and likes to piss off her husband.”
My eyebrows go up immediately. “Her husband?” I ask, horrified as I glance around, waiting to get my ass kicked by an old man.
“You’re from around here. Do you remember a biker named Bear? He was probably already old before you left.”
“Bear?” I whisper and swallow, feeling all the color drain from my face. “Um, yeah. He’s kind of hard to forget.”
“Woman,” barks the voice I heard a dozen times as a kid, calling me a pissant and a nuisance. He stalks into the foyer with his eyes staring straight at Fran. “Can’t you ever leave the young ones alone?”
“You mad?” she asks him and doesn’t stop touching me. She doesn’t even look his way to ask the question.