Priceless (An Amato Brothers/Rixton Falls crossover) Page 13

  Her jaw hangs. “Are you trying to insult me? Last I checked, being priceless was a good thing.”

  “Depends on the context,” I say, making my way toward the bathroom and trying to ignore the fact that she’s following me. “You know, we’ve only known each other a few days, and already you’re acting like you’re my goddamned girlfriend, starting fights and shit.”

  I shake my head, turning to face her, trying not to laugh when I see how pinched her face is or how tight her arms are across her chest.

  “If you were my girlfriend,” I add, taking one final dig, “at least I’d be getting laid more.”

  Smack.

  The warmth of her palm precedes a blossoming sting radiating across the side of my face.

  She just fucking hit me.

  My jaw snaps and then locks. I pop it back into place, my eyes locking on hers.

  “All right. Maybe I deserved that,” I say, voice low and ego lightly bruised. I pull in a lengthy breath and push it out through flared nostrils. “But I don’t deserve you fucking picking fights with me because you’re pissed off that the universe isn’t bending to your every need. Guess what, Daphne? Life doesn’t work that way. Never has, never will. Don’t take shit out on me. I’m just the guy that saved your ass when you thought driving three thousand miles across the country by yourself was a good idea.”

  “You didn’t save me. I didn’t need saving.” Her hand flies to her hip.

  “Really Daphne?”

  “I don’t understand why you have some sort of super hero complex,” she says, brows meeting in the middle.

  If she only fucking knew . . .

  “I’m going to hit the shower,” I say, keeping my voice even and steady, though I can’t look at her right now. I need to calm down, or I’m going to say something I’ll probably regret. “Why don’t you go down to the bar, have a drink. Get some space. We’ve been together twenty-four seven for the last several days, and I think it’s starting to get to us.”

  She rolls her eyes, turning on her heel and waving me off. “Whatever, Cristiano.”

  “What the fuck do you want from me?” I throw my hands in the air. “I didn’t cause any of this. Don’t take it out on me.”

  Daphne’s on the other side of the room now, throwing her phone into her purse and muttering under her breath.

  I need to have compassion for her. She wasn’t in a good place the day I met her, so I don’t know why I’d expected that to miraculously change after several days together in a cramped car and winding up stranded at some hole-in-the-wall roach motel.

  “I imagine you feel powerless right now. Maybe you’re overwhelmed by the fact that we made it this far and now we’ve come to an impasse? It fucking sucks. I get that. But what can we do?” I move toward her. “Yelling at each other? What’s that going to solve, huh?”

  She says nothing, and when I glance down, I see her phone resting in her hand, her thumb hovering over her sister’s name.

  “If I could get you home right now, I would,” I say. “But we’re stuck here. At least for one more night.”

  Daphne sits her phone down on a nightstand, her shoulders falling as she exhales. “I hate feeling stuck. And I hate that I’m not with her. And I hate that you’re so calm when all I want to do is yell and scream.”

  “Then yell and scream,” I say. “You do you. I’ll do me.”

  She turns to me, her glassy eyes blinking and a hint of a reserved smile appearing across her full lips. “God, you must really think I’m a nutcase now.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a chuckle. “You are a nutcase. But I kind of like that about you. Shows you’re real. And you’re not afraid to be yourself. That alone puts you leagues ahead of everyone else I’ve ever met.”

  “You’re too nice,” she says, burying her hand in her head. “I’m sorry I got upset with you. I just really, really want to get home, and I have all this pent up anger and no where to put it.”

  “You can hit me again if it’ll make you feel better.” I’m only half kidding.

  Her gaze flicks to mine, and she rolls her eyes when she sees the smirk on my face.

  “Look,” I say, exhaling. “Let’s try to make the best of this, all right? After tomorrow, you’ll be back home with your sister and I’ll be in Jersey, and we’ll never see each other again. This’ll be a distant memory. All we have is right now. Tonight. Let’s make the best of it. It’s all we can do.”

  Daphne’s chin tucks against her chest and her stare is pointed at the carpet between our feet. I reach for her face, cupping the side of her cheek and lifting her face. A moment later, her eyes rest on mine once more, and I catch her nibbling her lower lip.

  “What?” she asks with a nervous titter. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m beginning to think I’m the nutcase here,” I say.

  Her nose wrinkles and her eyes search mine. “What? Why?”

  “Because despite the fact that you just freaked out on me . . . despite the fact that you fucking slapped me . . . I still find you ridiculously sexy right now. And I still really, really want to kiss you. But not only that. I want to slam you against these god-awful wallpapered walls, crush your mouth with a kiss, and fuck you like it’s the last time I’m ever going to see you.”

  I watch her chest rise as she sucks in a startled breath. She wasn’t expecting me to say that, but then again, neither was I. The realization that I’m never going to see her again after tomorrow weighs heavy in my bones in a way I didn’t expect it to.

  She says nothing, locked somewhere between shocked apprehension and piqued curiosity if I had to guess by the confused expression blanketing her face right now. Cupping my hand beneath her chin, I inch her mouth closer to mine, willing this to happen and nudging it in the right direction. All she needs to do is say the word, and I’ll make her mine. I’ll make her mine so fucking hard.

  This woman . . . this infuriatingly complex woman . . . has some kind of hold on me I’ve never experienced with anyone else before. And maybe it’s because we’re more alike than we’re different. We’re both a little broken. A little damaged. A little fucked up. A little crazy. We’re both stubborn, feet firmly planted in the captain’s seat of our respective choose-your-own-adventure lives. Maybe we’re both a little empty too. Searching for something to fill that gaping void we try to ignore by cramming our lives full of all the things we’re convinced matter most.

  Regardless, and whatever it is, my feet are firmly planted in the here and now. With her. It’s all I have, and right now, it’s all I want.

  My body hums with anticipation, my cock hardening at the mere thought of all the things I want to do to this woman. Resting my hands around her waist, I pull her against me, her hands landing flat on my bare chest. Pressing my mouth hard against hers, I feel her exhale against me, her body surrendering as I sweep her closer into my arms.

  “I want you, Daphne,” I say, my lips grazing hers in the seconds before our tongues meet. My right hand travels up the back of her neck, my fingers tangling in the silky waves at the nape of her neck, making her smile. I gather a fistful, gently tugging and guiding her lips back to mine all over again.

  I kiss her. I kiss her harder than I’ve ever kissed anybody before. In this moment, it feels necessary. My mouth claims hers over and over, reveling in the taste of her sweet lips and how her body fits against mine, her curves filling my angles like we’re made to fit.

  My palms slick down her sides, tracing the curves of her hips before gripping a handful of her perfect ass. Daphne lifts on her toes, and my hands travel to the waistband of her leggings and panties, tugging them down her long thighs with a quick yank. My hands ride up her bare legs, and the way they quiver at my touch forces my cock to strain against my jeans. Daphne works my pants off, tugging at my boxers until she sets me free, taking my length in her hand and urgently pumping it in her soft palm.

  Lowering herself to her knees, she presses her mouth against the tip of my coc
k, swallowing my girth one inch at a time. Her tongue is velvet and smooth, flicking the underside of my hardness, swirling, pumping. Gathering her hair in my hand, I guide her rhythm, my hips gently fucking the hell out of her perfect, bee stung mouth.

  “Goddamn,” I groan, tipping my head back. I knew she had a mouth on her, but this . . . this is fucking magical. I let her suck me off a while longer because it feels too damn good to make her stop, but the greedy bastard in me wants more. I want the heat and the friction, the scent of her arousal, her sweet taste on my tongue.

  Pulling my cock from between her lips, I reach down and swipe my wallet from my jeans pocket, retrieving a perfectly intact rubber and ripping the packet between my teeth.

  “Take your shirt off, Daphne,” I command, pumping my cock in one hand.

  Following orders, she slowly pulls her blouse over her head, followed by the swift unhooking of the black lace bra covering her perky tits. The dim lamp from the hotel nightstand illuminates her curved body perfectly, and I love that she isn’t rushing to shut it off. Moving my mouth toward her breasts, I take a pointed tip between my lips, tugging gently until I hear her release a soft moan.

  With my free hand between her thighs, I slide my fingers between her wet slit and massage her clit softly with my thumb. Backing up against the wall behind her bed, she melts into submission, her eyes squeezed and her tongue grazing her lower lip. Falling to my knees, I breathe in her addictive scent, lapping her arousal, swirling my tongue between her soft folds, devouring her pussy because it’s fucking perfection.

  Her hands find my hair and she takes a fistful before giving it a good pull, and while it’s clear she’s in heaven, we both know she wants more.

  Rising, I sheathe my cock before cupping her peach-shaped ass and pressing her harder against the wall. Depositing a punishing kiss onto her lips, I grind my hips against hers until she moans into my mouth and hikes her thigh up my side in a single wordless gesture.

  Dragging my cock against her wet pussy, I give her a tease, eliciting a smile out of her as her mouth waits, open and wanting, for another claiming, crushing kiss. I push myself into her, slowly, deliberately, inch by tortuous inch, and then I grip her long thighs, pulling them both up my sides before pressing her back against the wall.

  Her warmth and wetness envelope me in a way that moves beyond carnal. There’s a strange comfort being with Daphne . . . it’s in the way she looks at me, in the way her body grinds against mine and her fingernails dig into my flesh, the way we’ve only just begun and get stopping feels like an impossibility. It’s as if we both know something about this just works in a way we never could’ve predicted, and yet we’ve accepted the fact that we’ll only ever have tonight.

  Pushing myself inside her, deeper, harder, faster, I press my lips into the feverish skin below her collarbone. Peppering biting kisses along her shoulders, my fingers dig deep into the soft flesh of her curves, holding on with everything I have and giving her every greedy inch.

  Carrying her to the bed behind me, I deposit her in the middle, climbing over her. Her legs part, and my fingers trail her slick seam in the seconds before I thrust my cock inside her all over again. She exhales, her head pushing back against the mattress, and I push myself deeper.

  I could do this all night. And I never want this endless, snowbound, stranded night to end.

  Taking a peaked, rosy nipple between my lips, I swirl the swollen bud, my cock throbbing hard inside her with each thrust. Every inch of this woman is soft and sweet and addictive.

  Her hands travel down my sides, guiding the natural rhythm we’re creating, and when our eyes meet, my chest tightens and I swear I see a future – our future – flash before me. It’s a lifetime in a split second, and it’s not something that’s ever happened to me before.

  I haven’t thought about my future in . . . years.

  Shaking it off, I plunge and pivot myself deeper inside her, faster, thrusting so hard, she screams out in sensual agony, her hips bucking, meeting my every move. Daphne fucks me back, her body tightening and rocking against mine like she’s getting close. The tightness in my balls is the only thing I feel . . . and then I black out . . .

  When I come to, I’m lying on top of Daphne, both of us heaving, our bodies stuck together. Climbing off, she crawls out of bed and heads to the bathroom. I’m reeling. Feeling it all. Feeling the things I haven’t felt in years; the kinds of things I wasn’t sure I was capable of feeling anymore.

  She returns a moment later, naked as the day she was born, a satisfied crooked smile on her beautiful face. Crawling under the covers beside me, she flicks out the light on the nightstand without saying another word.

  I head to the bathroom, hit the shower, and emerge ten minutes later. Words linger on the tip of my tongue – words I didn’t expect I’d ever need to say to this woman.

  I want to see her again after this. I don’t want to tell her goodbye tomorrow and go our separate ways. There’s something between us, I know there is. I feel it. She has to feel it too.

  Climbing in bed beside her, I press my body against her, letting mine take the shape of hers and slipping my arm over her.

  “Daphne,” I say, my voice a careful whisper.

  No answer.

  On second glance, I see she’s already asleep. I won’t get to tell her tonight. But tomorrow . . . I’ll tell her tomorrow.

  Chapter 16

  Daphne

  “Car’s ready.” Cristiano ends a call on his phone and turns back to his suitcase, packing yesterday’s clothes. His hair is still damp from the shower, and the scent of soap and aftershave fills the cool hotel air. This man loves his showers, that’s for damn sure. “They’re dropping it off in fifteen.”

  “Roads are fine,” I say, looking up from my phone. Suddenly I’m flashing back to last night, my body enveloped in a warm rush of excitement followed by a quick burst of sadness when I realize we won’t have time for a reprise. Cristiano’s easily the best sex I’ve had in my life. And last night was tragically our grand finale. “No closures on the route.”

  “We should hit Scranton in about three hours,” he says. There’s less confidence and a bit more exhaustion in his claim, but I don’t hold it against him. It’s been a long, ridiculously unpredictable week.

  I deposit my phone on my nightstand and move to grab my clothes so I can take a quick shower before we hit the road, but the second I walk away, it starts to vibrate, skidding across the wood. Spinning around, I spot the caller ID and answer it in the middle of the second ring.

  “Delilah, hey. We’re leaving soon. I’ll be home in about five hours,” I answer.

  “Daphne, it’s Zane,” says a voice I was not expecting to hear. My heart sinks to the floor.

  “Zane, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, his voice calm. “Everything’s fine. I was just calling to let you know the doctor’s admitting Delilah right now. She’s in labor.”

  “Oh, god.” I sink into the edge of the mattress, staring blankly ahead at a watercolor reproduction of a wheat field at sunset.

  “She could be in labor for twenty-four hours,” he says, a slight chuckle in his tone like he’s trying to ease my worries. “Don’t freak out just yet. The next five hours could be fairly uneventful. You never know. Just focus on getting here safely, and I’ll let her know you’re on your way.”

  My eyes water as powerlessness takes a hold of me. “Okay. Tell her I love her, and I’m going to do everything I can to get there as soon as possible.”

  “Just don’t speed,” Zane says.

  I chuff.

  “I’m just trying to say what Delilah would say,” he adds. His voice is slightly breathy, and I hear footsteps in the background. “She’s in her new room now. You want to say hi?”

  “Yeah.” I grip my phone tight. “Can she FaceTime?”

  My phone beeps as Zane initiates a video call, and I move my screen in front of my face. The pale peach walls of my sister’s
birthing suite blur into the white sheets of her bed. I hear my mother’s voice in the background, low and soothing, and then I hear a woman talking about measuring contractions and giving her something to “take the edge off.”

  “Daphne?” Delilah’s face comes into focus. She’s wearing a thin white gown covered in tiny pink flowers. There’s a cuff on her arm and a myriad of wires in the background connected to something off camera. A steady beeping noise drowns out my mother’s voice, but I manage to hear her ask, “Is that your sister?” in the background. “Hey, sis.”

  “How are you feeling?” My brows lift, and I force a smile because it’s all I can do to keep my composure in front of her. It kills me not to be there, by her side, holding her hand.

  “Scared.” She laughs through her nose before wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Scared out of my freaking mind.”

  “You can do this,” I say.

  “I wish you were here.” Her head tilts to the side, and then she glances up and over the phone. Zane appears at her side, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. He then takes the seat beside her, slipping his hand in hers. He loves her so much, and I’m glad she has him, but she needs me too. Growing up, we’ve always felt less than complete when the other one wasn’t around. Maybe it’s a twin thing, I’m not sure.

  “I’ll be there soon,” I say. “Give me five hours and I’ll be right there with you.”

  “Is that Daphne?” My sister Demi crouches down on the other side of Delilah, waving and grinning wide. “Hi, Daph! We miss you. Wish you were here.”

  She pouts, and then I spot my mother’s bushy blonde hair in the background. My chest squeezes.

  “Is everything okay?” my mom asks, brows furrowed as she squeezes in.

  “Yes, Mom,” I say with a bittersweet smile. “I’m on my way. Don’t let her have that baby until I get there.”

  My sisters laugh, and Mom swats her hand toward the screen. “You want me to put the phone up to her belly so you can tell your nephew that yourself?”