Always (San Francisco Brides Series Book 1) Read online

  Gina turned. Vincente’s house was in front of her. She had to stop his family, so she could get back hers.

  Chapter Four

  Vincente had said his goodbyes. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with Gina and her parents, but the tension between them was clear especially since she’d run out halfway through dinner after that private conversation with her father. And Vincente still didn’t know what she had against his family. Forget her.

  He stepped onto the sidewalk. The sun blazed against the horizon, illuminating the city with fiery colors. Gina, in that red dress…He shook his head. She, like the sun, would burn if he got to close. But, damn, the heat felt good. Forget it. He was used to the cold.

  He rolled his shoulders and strode up the street. As he unlocked the side gate at home, he stopped, sensing he wasn’t alone. He turned his head. Gina rushed toward him from around the corner. She got in his face and pushed him. He stood still, tensing and releasing his pecs. Her eyes showed hurt, not crazy or anger, and her hands trembled.

  “Keep your family away from mine. I know what you’re up to.” Her voice cracked, as if she held back tears.

  There wasn’t any point in saying anything. She wouldn’t believe him, no matter what he said, and he wasn’t going to get the truth out of her. Not yet.

  “Do you hear me?” Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling in an erratic pattern.

  He walked through the gate and down the path. Her footsteps clicked behind him. She grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t ignore me,” she shouted.

  “Everything okay?” Nico said from the side doorway.

  Vincente clasped Gina by the waist, pulled her in front of him, and firmly, but not so he’d hurt her, pinned her arms behind her. She sucked in a breath.

  “Lock up the gate and erase the footage. She was never here. I got this.” Vincente moved forward. Sometimes Grandpop checked the security footage. Vincente didn’t want Gina hurt anymore than she already was, and she might be if anyone else found out she’d been here. Gina locked her legs and refused to budge. She leaned back into him, wriggling. He kept hold of her wrists with one hand and smacked her ass with his other hand. Gina made a surprised sound. Her body softened just enough that he loosened his grip.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist. She stilled. Her hair tickled his cheek. A low growl rumbled in his chest. “You want me to treat you like a child or a woman?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her stomach contracted as she let out a breathy sigh. She swiveled in his arms and faced him. Her frown and stiff features told him she was still upset. She closed her eyes. “I get angry. It’s childish.” She opened her eyes. Her gaze searched his for a moment. She kissed him, almost frantic, moving from his lips to his neck to his ear. “I’m a woman,” she whispered between kisses. Her tone had softened, almost a plea for him to see her as that woman, not as the angry girl she’d acted like. She was all softness, yielding…He eased his fingers up her back, into her silky hair. Their kiss deepened. She nipped his lower lip. He gripped her head and ass and pulled her flush to him. As if from a distance, the gate clicked shut. Vincente ran his tongue across her lip. Her tongue darted out, sending him flying, like riding the crest of a wave. As quickly, he broke their embrace, took her hand and strode into the house. She kept up with him, following as he made his way through the kitchen and up the stairs.

  When he entered his room, Gina tried to free her hand. “That guy—he’ll tell…” Her tone was laced with panic.

  He grabbed her, shut the door and locked it. “No. You’re safe.”

  She ran her hands over his chest. Finding the zipper on her dress, he tugged it down. Her fingers trembled as she undid the buttons on his dress shirt. He cupped her hands in his, bringing them to his lips. She sighed.

  “Just us,” he said. “No one else. This is between us.” He’d said it for her, but he needed to believe it too.

  She stilled and searched his face. He kissed her neck then edged her dress off her shoulders, running his fingers down, following the path of the fabric as it moved off her soft, tanned skin. He swallowed. Beautiful. Gina was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. And she hurt. He saw it in her eyes. She shut her eyes. He turned, bowing his head. God, he wanted to help her.

  She began to move behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, undoing his belt, button, and zipper. He finished taking off his shirt. Within moments, she pressed her naked body into his. Her softness on him, the way her hands rubbed over him, her cheek cradled on his back…He needed to be inside her, convince her only this moment mattered.

  He took her hand. She laced her fingers in his. Turning to her, he brought her into a close embrace. He kissed her thick, coffee-brown hair, smoothed it back, and trailed his lips over her forehead, nose, cheeks, finally meeting her full lips. He couldn’t get enough of her, her lips, her ass, her breasts, her smooth skin and silky hair. Lifting her, he walked to the bed, sliding her on, never losing the heated contact with her.

  She sat up, meeting him as he edged onto the bed. Her kisses made his brain slow. Or it was all the blood rushing to his other head. He grinned and grabbed a condom from his nightstand.

  As soon as he had it on, she wrapped herself around him, devouring him with hungry licks and sucks along his neck. Their breathing sounded in his ears. Gina growled in a low, husky whisper and pulled him onto the mattress. He leaned into her, smiling through her kiss as she tightened her legs around him. She slowed her kisses as he caressed her sides. Cupping her breasts, he maneuvered his length onto her. She rubbed her wet, slick folds along his shaft. He closed his eyes, willing himself to focus on Gina’s pleasure. When he began pinching and rolling her nipples between his fingers, she moaned. He pressed his pelvis up, pushing himself into her moist, warm, tight depths. They both groaned.

  Her nipples hardened under his touch. He rolled over, lay back, and eased her on top of him. She rode him, at first with slow, rocking movements. Then she sped, almost frantic, pushing his shaft deeper, as far as it could go. He made an appreciative sound and grasped her waist. Her breasts bounced, her hair flew wild around her flushed, beautiful face. He stared at her. She was more than beautiful—she was a goddess, an angel.

  Her breathing dipped—she panted and then exhaled in a low moan. Her silkenness contracted around his shaft. She leaned closer and clasped his hands. Meeting his gaze, she slowed and exhaled again. Her body, slick and hot, rubbed against him. He squeezed her hands and gazed at her as he came. She smiled and ground into him. With a jerk, he spent himself in her. She sat up again, wriggling on him. He grasped her hips.

  He blew out a breath. “Keep that up, we’ll go again.” He grinned.

  She laughed. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  He propped himself up on his hands, to be closer to her as she sat on him. She leaned onto him. Hell, yes. He cupped her ass as she wrapped her legs around his hips. She ran her hands through his hair. Her breasts rubbed against his pecs. He began to harden again. He kissed her neck.

  “I always keep my promises,” he whispered in her ear. He tossed the condom in the trash and grabbed another.

  She put her hands on his chest, as if to push away, to climb off him. He held her tightly and ground into her. He hardened more with each of her wriggles and squirms to edge away.

  “That’s what they all say.” With a turn of her neck, she tossed her hair back.

  He wrapped one hand in her hair and cupped her chin with the other, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not ‘they.’ It’s just us. Right now. What happened before doesn’t matter. Only now matters.” He had to convince her, show her he was different.

  She shook her head then tried to pry his hand off her chin. With a quick movement, he wrapped his arms around her, turned them both so she was under him, and pressed himself onto her. He kissed her until she relaxed again. He placed his palms on either side of her and planked up, so he could see her face better. Biting her lip, she reac
hed down and grasped him. She stroked him, making him even harder. He watched her—her eyes closed, her lips parted, an intense focus and pleasure evident in her expression. Her hand swiveled over the head. His arms quivered.

  “Vincente,” she moaned. His breathing sped. “I need you inside me, now. Now. Vincente.” Her breathing sped. Her eyes shot open and she stared at him as she guided him between her parted, trembling thighs.

  He clasped her hands and pressed himself into her, kissing her. She filled him with longing and heat. She kissed back, each kiss a promise, a seal of affection and desire.

  “Gina,” he moaned when he rammed himself into her. So hot, their slick bodies slid together—sparks shot off throughout his veins.

  He raised himself up and pushed her legs toward the ceiling. She gripped the bed frame, as if she anticipated how hard he was going to pound into her. He slowed for a moment, so he could watch himself slide in and out of her wet rosiness. Sliding his hands up her thighs, he held on and slammed into her.

  She cried out, panting, the rosy glow suffusing her entire body. He gripped her hips—she kept her legs in the air. Trembling, she wriggled. He thwacked into her, harder and faster. Her hands gripped the frame so hard her fingers paled.

  “Vin-cen-te!” she cried out. She arched her back then collapsed into the bed. Her body shook and quavered. He pounded so hard, he couldn’t feel the gripping of her orgasm. This wasn’t about him, but her—making her come so hard and so many times, she wouldn’t remember her anger. He thrust deeper. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped down his chest as he kept up a steady pace. Now his shaft responded to her contractions, pulsating, ready to come. He steadied his breathing and closed his eyes. More time, he needed more time inside her, to give her more.

  He opened his eyes. Gina’s eyes were closed, her head lolling, arms slack. He slowed.

  “More,” she breathed out.

  His nostrils flared and his body heated, as if flames licked from the inside. Grunting, he rammed into her over and over again. He ground into her—she was so wet he had to stay deep in her to keep from sliding out.

  Her hair haloed around her beautiful face, her breasts, round and jiggling… “Now, come in me now,” she moaned out.

  He jerked forward, coming in pulsating bursts. He gripped her hips and pushed as close as he could into her. Never could anyone come close to her—he couldn’t get enough of watching her, being inside her wet tightness.

  She licked her lips, still panting. He smiled. Reluctantly, he eased out of her. A disappointed cry sounded from her parted lips. He slid next to her and caressed her, from her thigh to her cheek. She gyrated in a seductive squirm.

  He quickly hopped up to take care of the condom. Easing back into bed, he started by kissing her again. He couldn’t go again—yet—but he could do something else for her. She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed against him. Her touch tingled through him. He moved his hand down to her slick lips and kissed his way to her round breasts, capturing a nipple in his mouth. With his fingers, he circled and caressed her clit while he did the same to her nipples with his tongue. The way she responded, arching her body into his, massaging her fingers through his hair, every tiny sound she made, pushed him closer to needing to take her again. But he knew it would be better if he waited. He focused on her and her pleasure. That was easy—watching her wriggle and moan, her face glowing and pleased, brought a wide smile to his face and expanded his chest.

  She ground into his fingers and cried out. He slid a finger into her. Her inner folds gripped tightly on his finger as she came again. Damn, she had the wettest, tightest…a silken glove, made just for him. He was the luckiest man on the planet, that a sexy, smart, passionate woman like Gina wanted him, shared herself with him. He rested his hand on her.

  She collapsed into the rumpled sheet. Tears coursed down her cheeks and her face began to twist in silent sobs. Shit. His chest tightened, the expansion he’d felt crushed.

  He edged close and smoothed her hair. Kissing away her tears, he brought her closer.

  “Gina? Talk to me.”

  She sniffled and shook her head. Had he taken things too far?

  “Can I get you something? Water?” He couldn’t stand just lying here, unable to soothe her. His shoulders tensed. With a gentle tug, he enclosed her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest. He pulled the blanket, which had gotten pushed toward the edge of the bed, over them. After he’d held her for a few minutes, her breathing steadied and she wrapped her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head. Her sigh whispered across his chest.

  “I hate you for being so sexy,” Gina muttered into his chest.

  His brows edged together. Part of him wanted to laugh, another part wanted to swat her ass again for being so childish. He loved her for being sexy. He swallowed. Love? Hell, no. Now his impulse was to jump up and retreat downstairs, or into the shower. But damned if he couldn’t leave her—her arms still wrapped around him, her naked, soft curves pressed into him, her need to be comforted, even though clearly it irritated the hell out of her.

  She lifted her head for a moment, then plopped it back on his chest. Too bad her orgasmic relaxation didn’t last longer. And making a woman cry after—not a good sign. But she wanted him, enjoyed him, or at least his body. He frowned. That was it. She was just using him for the sex. He shifted. Twisting a wave of her hair around his finger, he resisted the urge to tug it.

  “I should go,” she said. Yet she didn’t move even a finger.

  “You can’t.”

  She propped her chin on his chest and glanced up at him. He grinned.

  “Why not?” Gina ran a fingernail through his chest hair.

  Her touch shot straight through him, to the dangerous, irrational place that he’d kept in a carefully constructed, well-ordered fortress—his heart. “I’m not done keeping my promise.”

  Her lips curved in a lopsided smile. “You already filled it.”

  “Clearly you’re a skeptic. You need more proof.”

  Her expression fought between laughter and frowning. She shrugged. “I’m not a believer.”

  “Why?”

  She rested her head on his chest. “I guess I owe you some explanation for crying all over you.” She tried to roll away from him, but he pulled his arm tighter, keeping her at his side. She relaxed back into him. “I’ve made a lot of bad choices, with men.”

  He touched her hair. He shifted his legs and focused on his breathing for a minute. He didn’t like to think about her with other men. “I’ve made choices I’m not proud of. But your choices have made you who you are.”

  “Sometimes I don’t like who I am. I don’t want to make the same mistakes.”

  “I like you. When I don’t like something, I change it.” He stroked her hair. “I didn’t mean it, what I said earlier. I don’t feel like this is a mistake.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Two consenting adults.” It was a lot more complicated than that. He shifted. He liked things simple, orderly.

  “Adults.” She let out a breath and kissed his chest.

  Heat expanded him again. This time, he’d forget about the complications. He didn’t know what was happening between them, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to know more about her, about what had hurt her so much, and if he could help. First, he had a night of promises to keep. He intended to make the most out of each one.

  Chapter Five

  Gina stretched awake, her body pleasantly achy from her night with Vincente. Her hands brushed across his hard chest. The hairs scattered across its solid planes tickled her fingers. He tweaked her nipple and she jolted.

  “Good morning,” he said in his low, sexy voice. “Still hate me?” He grinned.

  “No. But I need to go.” Maybe Vincente wasn’t involved in his family’s schemes, but she was still doing what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t jump right to sex when she met a man she was attracted to. People br
oke promises, and she was an offender.

  She slid from the bed. Her disappointment was a heavy weight. Plodding to the bathroom, she stepped in, flipped on the light, and shut the door, locking it behind her. Crap, what time was it? Probably morning, if the low, grey light in the bedroom had been any indication. She looked up. There was a skylight in the ceiling. It was a hazy day, but the sun was somewhere behind those clouds. Like the truth about the DeGrazias was—hidden somewhere, obscured. She’d find it, but first she had to stop this crazy thing with Vincente. It was destroying her focus—and all her plans.

  She went to the shower and turned on the hot and cold, leaving her hand in the spray until it was the right temperature. Her stomach dipped, and not just from early-morning hunger pains. She was being pretty rude. Vincente seemed sincere. But all the DeGrazias were known for their irresistible, but poisonous, charm.

  Though the worst offenders lately—or the least discreet—were Lorenzo Calabra and his father. Lorenzo’s mom had been a DeGrazia, so he was one too. They were all close, and she’d heard the rest of the DeGrazias were as bad as the Calabras, only better at hiding their corruption: broken hearts—and bones—shady business deals, fixing local elections, probably money laundering and extortion. All Gina lacked was proof. Rumors, old family stories, dead-end money trails, and unexplained dead bodies weren’t enough.

  She stepped into the water and slid shut the door. Leaning back, she tried to let the warm water wash away her concerns, but Vincente’s hot touch had been more effective. Here she was using the man’s body, his shower, his hospitality, and she was the one mentally accusing him of using her and her family, of being dishonest and scheming. Maybe she couldn’t find proof because there was nothing to prove.

  Lathering up her hair and body, she scrubbed over legs, arms and belly with a washcloth. But it didn’t wash away the doubt. She rinsed out the cloth. Turning, she watched the white soap suds swirl down the drain. She closed her eyes. When was the last time she’d felt sure? She placed a hand over her mouth and plopped into a crouch.