Foxy in Lingerie Page 15

  “I jerked off and slept alone. Every night. End of story.”

  “And I did the same thing. End of story.”

  “No,” he snapped. “You were going on dates, talking about artwork, sharing your passion.”

  This was a nightmare that would never end. “I never went on a date with him. When he asked me out, I told him I wasn’t ready.”

  “Tell me how that painting got there.”

  He was never going to let this go, was he? “Fine.” I threw my arms down. “He came by my gallery as a customer. Took a look around and bought one of my paintings. Then he left. I had no idea who he was or that he was a painter himself. Then about a week later, I was out with Carmen when I noticed a painting in the window. I loved it, so I walked inside and bought it. Later, I learned that he was the artist. When he realized we bought each other’s paintings without realizing it, he asked me out. I said no. That’s the story, Griffin.”

  As he soaked in the story word for word, his appearance began to change. No longer angry, his entire body began to soften, but not in relief. Anguish moved into his eyes, and he wore an expression similar to the one he wore the day he left me. His breathing picked up, and his nostrils flared slightly. It was the first time he broke eye contact with me, like looking at me only caused him pain. He stepped back, his eyes shifting back and forth as he processed what I’d said. “You bought each other’s paintings…”

  “It doesn’t matter, Griffin. The second you were back in my life, I forgot he existed.”

  He didn’t listen to a word I said. He ran his hand through his short hair and down the back of his scalp. Overwhelmed with misery, he didn’t know what to say. His spine wasn’t straight anymore, and his shoulders weren’t rounded. His posture turned weak.

  “Griffin…”

  He turned to the door, dismissing the conversation.

  “Griffin.” I followed him to the entryway. “Do not walk out on me—”

  He walked out the front door and slammed it in my face.

  He left me—again.

  Seventeen

  Bones

  I drove my truck out of Florence and into the heart of Tuscany.

  There was only one person I wanted to see right now.

  Vanessa’s answer was even worse than what I imagined. They bought each other’s paintings without even realizing it. I wasn’t a romantic guy, but I knew that meant something. Stuff like that didn’t just happen.

  They had a deep connection.

  She loved only me, and that’s all that should matter.

  But it bothered me.

  Infuriated me.

  Because none of that would have happened if her father hadn’t stuck his nose where it didn’t belong. None of that would have happened if I’d been given the chance I deserved. During those three months, Vanessa met a man who easily could have become her husband. Based on the small amount of information I knew about him, he sounded like her other half. What were the odds that the two of them would find each other that way? By falling in love with each other’s artwork?

  Of course he went after her.

  He went after my woman.

  I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, and I was tempted to punch out the side window just to feel something shatter against my hand. The victim of my beating should be Antonio, but that wouldn’t be right.

  Only one person deserved the beating of a lifetime.

  Thirty minutes later, I pulled up to the house I’d only entered once. It was a place I’d never felt welcome, not even now. I killed the engine, stormed up to the door, and then banged my fist hard against the wood.

  Then I waited.

  My temple was pounding as the adrenaline circulated in my veins. All the muscles in my arms were tense, ready for the fight that was about to happen. This man had taken everything away from me.

  I despised him.

  A minute later, Mrs. Barsetti opened the door. “Griffin?” She spoke with surprise, but there was a smile on her face. It was the first time I’d ever seen her smile at me. It was the first time she’d looked pleased to see my face, despite how angry I must have looked. “I didn’t know you guys were stopping by.”

  “I want to see Crow.” I could barely get the words past my clenched jaw. I could barely keep my hands still because I wanted to yank the door off the hinges.

  She picked up on my intensity. “Uh, is everything alright? Is Vanessa with you?”

  “I want to see Crow.” I turned my back on her and stepped away from the house until my feet hit the gravel of the driveway. I didn’t hate her as much as Crow, but right now, I didn’t like her either.

  She didn’t ask me any more questions and disappeared.

  It seemed like a lifetime later before Crow finally showed his face. He shut the door behind him then approached me, his boots hitting the concrete before they crushed against the gravel. “Griffin.”

  I surveyed the landscape of the vineyards for another second before I turned around and faced him. He stood in front of his three-story mansion, a man full of so much wealth he didn’t have enough places to stash his money. Not only was he wealthy, but that privileged life had been handed down to his children as well. A man with a perfect life, he thought he was a god who could do whatever he wanted.

  I looked at him, my blood boiling when I saw his stern expression. With dark hair like Vanessa and the same olive skin, he was clearly her father. He showed the signs of strength despite his age, and after seeing him in battle, I knew he was a man worth his salt. Fearless, strong, and selfless, he would give his life for his son in a heartbeat—I saw it with my own eyes.

  He watched me, his shoulders tense as he studied me with trepidation. “What is it?”

  “I had to walk into her apartment, the apartment I bought for her, and see that goddamn painting on the wall.”

  He kept his expression blank, maintaining a poker face even though he must have been confused.

  “She bought his painting, he bought hers, and that’s where it all began—like a goddamn fairy tale. I don’t need to hear any more of the story to understand how it goes, to know that Vanessa found a perfect man whom she connected with.” I shook my head, doing the best I could not to punch him in the face. “Of course, you approved of him. A successful painter with his own gallery. A nice young man from a good family. I’m sure you dug into him and couldn’t find a single flaw. Then you encouraged your daughter to date him, to forget about the psychopath criminal that she loves. You got what you wanted—for her to forget about me.”

  As the conversation continued, he slowly narrowed his eyes and he erected his walls, knowing this conversation would only get worse.

  “I worked my ass off to get your approval.” I pointed my finger in his face since he was slightly shorter than me. In his black t-shirt and jeans, he had a corded neck and a hard jawline. He might not be afraid of me, but he was thirty years older than me and not nearly my size. I could crush him—and we both knew it. “I gave you free labor, put up with your brother’s bullshit, and listened to you call me trash. Fucking trash. Do you think that painter boy would have put up with that?” I slammed my fists into my chest. “Do you think that painter boy could have handled that? Do you think any other man in the world would have done that for your daughter? But did that mean shit to you? No. That asshole didn’t have to do a damn thing for you to like him. But me…I was never given a chance. You stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, and you took away the one thing that meant something to me.” I slammed my hand into my chest again. “I’ve got nothing but my self-made fortune and my boys. I don’t have a family. She was everything to me. I worked my ass off for her, but you wouldn’t let me have her. So some other asshole got his shot. He fell for my woman. She never loved him, never slept with him, but that doesn’t matter. In time, it would have happened. In time, she would have loved him. And that’s all because of you.” I pointed my finger in his face, not having an ounce of respect for him. “You know wha
t my life was like for those three months? All I did was work and drink. Too depressed to go on, I drank until I lost my mind. I crashed my truck and ended up in a hospital. I spent all my nights alone, trying not to think about the one person I wanted to be with. And that’s all because of you.”

  His features softened slightly, but he remained as stern as ever.

  “I didn’t save you and your son because I gave a damn about you. I couldn’t care less whether you lived or died. She was the only thing I cared about. If she lost you, she would have been more devastated than when she lost me. That’s the only reason I took that bullet for you. I was taking it for her because she would have died if you died. Make no fucking mistake, Crow Barsetti, I don’t like you. I will never like you. I will tolerate you because of Vanessa. I will shake your hand because it makes her happy. I will treat your wife with respect because she’s the mother of the woman I love.” I stepped closer to him, getting right in his face. “But I hate you the way you hated me. Now it’s your turn to earn my respect, my approval. But don’t waste your time—because I’ll give you the same chance you gave me.” I stepped back, knowing I had to move. Otherwise, I might actually throw a punch. “Fuck. You.”

  Crow took all my words with the same stern expression, his eyes locked on to mine without blinking. He didn’t show anger or hurt. He showed nothing at all, internalizing what I said in silence.

  I finished what I came to say, dumped all of the blame on the person who should take all the credit. If Conway hadn’t pissed off the Skull Kings and got himself in harm’s way, I wouldn’t be with Vanessa right now. She would have ended up with Antonio, and I probably would have put a gun in my mouth and pulled the trigger. This man had far too much control over my life, and I was done with it.

  Finished.

  Eighteen

  Vanessa

  Bones didn’t come home until later that night.

  My calls didn’t go through because he’d turned off his phone.

  This wasn’t how I wanted our relationship to be. We just got back together, and now we were fighting. Things had never been this tense between us, even when we were at our lowest point. That painting had ripped us apart.

  He walked in the door shortly after eight.

  “Thank god you’re home.” I jumped up from the couch, still in his t-shirt because I didn’t leave the house all day. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to miss him if he came home.

  He barged inside with the same anger as before. It was like the last five hours hadn’t happened. He was constantly livid, storming in and out of the apartment like a soldier marching into battle.

  “You’re still angry?”

  He walked up to me, the same venom in his eyes as before. “You tell me.”

  I did my best not to roll my eyes because I knew that would just make the situation worse. “Griffin, let it go.”

  “I’ll let it go when I feel like it. And I don’t feel like it right now.”

  “We just got back together. I don’t want to fight—”

  “We shouldn’t have broken up in the first place. Your father is a fucking piece of shit who needs to mind his own damn business. And if I hadn’t taken that bullet, you might be marrying this guy.”

  There were so many things wrong with what he said, and the comment about my father rubbed me the wrong way. He might have the right to say it, but I didn’t want to listen to it. “I know you’re angry, but please don’t talk about my father that way. I’ll let that one slide…this time.”

  He clenched his jaw. “How generous.”

  “And who knows if I would have married him. It doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen.”

  He shook his head. “But it would have happened. This guy isn’t just some random guy. He sounds perfect for you.”

  “You don’t know him!”

  “Then tell me I’m wrong.” The vein in his forehead throbbed. “Tell me.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and sighed. “I’ll tell you this. If I had married Antonio somewhere down the road, and hypothetically, my father changed his mind about you, I would have left him in a heartbeat. Even if I had kids, I still would have left him. At any point in time, even if I was old, I still would have left him for you. Maybe Antonio is perfect for me. But it doesn’t matter how perfect he is because I only want you.” I placed my hand on his chest, right over his heart. “He asked me out, and I said no. I told him I wasn’t ready, so he said he would wait until I was. We had coffee a few times, hung out at the gallery a few times, held hands once or twice. I was attracted to him and knew I would want to be with him once I was ready. That’s the full story. But then you were back in my life…and the last six weeks didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.” I moved closer to his chest and rested my forehead against his sternum. My hands held on to his hips so he wouldn’t slip away from me. “You’re the man I want to make love to every night. You’re the man I want to marry. You’re the man I want to have kids with. You’re the man I want to be buried next to for all eternity. You.” I grabbed his arms and squeezed them. “Just you.”

  He continued to breathe hard, but he didn’t move from my grasp. After a few minutes, he rested his chin on my head then circled his arms around my waist. He pulled me tighter against him, his powerful body coiling around me like a snake. His hand cupped the back of my head, and finally, the fight was over.

  “You never have to be threatened by anyone, Griffin. You’re the love of my life.” I pulled my face away from his chest so I could look up into his eyes, to search for the softness I hoped I would find.

  He wasn’t angry anymore, but he wasn’t himself either. “I’m not threatened by the boys before me. I’m not threatened by the boys who look at you and fantasize about you. I’m not threatened by a boy you might have liked.” His hand moved through my hair, keeping it from my face so he could look at all my features. “But I am scared of a man who can make something that beautiful, of a man who can make my woman feel something. I’m scared of a man who can connect with my woman in a way I can’t. I’m not ashamed to admit that terrifies me…because I’m not afraid to wear my love on my sleeve. When it comes to you, my heart is on the outside of my body. I keep it in the open because I want to love you so deeply, but that also means it’s much easier to scar.” Both of his palms cupped my cheeks.

  “You do connect with me in the same way. You’ve always believed in my artwork. You’ve always appreciated it. I wouldn’t have my own gallery if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have dropped out of school if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have reached this kind of success without my man believing in me. So don’t think for a second that you don’t understand me the way he does, that we don’t have that same special emotional spectrum. Ours is deeper, Griffin. So much deeper. You don’t need to make a painting for me to feel you.” My hand moved to his heart. “Because I always feel you…deep inside me…every day.”

  He took a deep breath, this time in obvious relief. The monster had finally been calmed, and he retracted his teeth and claws. He kissed my forehead before he placed his head against mine. He continued to cup my cheeks as he held me there, his eyes closed. “Baby?”

  “Yes?” I gripped his wrists.

  “Make love to me.”

  The smile spread across my lips, recognizing the words I said to him on a constant basis. I was needy when it came to him, telling him exactly what I wanted and how I wanted it. He always delivered, more than happy to fulfill my demands. Now I wanted to do the same for him, to give him whatever he asked for.

  My arms circled his neck, and I kissed him, feeling the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his facial hair. I breathed into his mouth as I scooted him back toward the couch, ready to ride him nice and slow. When the backs of his knees hit the couch, I pushed him back and straddled his hips.

  He sat back and stared at me, slight arrogance in his eyes. He undid his jeans and pushed them down with his boxers until his cock was free. He yanked on my panties a
nd stretched them to the side, not bothering to take them off because that would take longer than he was willing to wait.

  I pulled the shirt over my head and then settled on top of him, my hands gripping his shoulders.

  He gripped my ass cheeks and lifted me slightly so he could direct his dick inside me. Then he pulled down on my hips and pushed himself up, making his cock sink all the way inside me.

  I lowered myself until I had him completely inside me, every single inch. We’d been fighting all day, but that didn’t stop me from growing wet the second the fight was over. My pussy was always ready for him, ready for him to fill me. There had been no morning sex that day, so my body had been waiting for it all day. My hands pressed against his chest, and I breathed into his mouth. He was finally inside me where he belonged, long and thick. I watched the arousal in his eyes, the possession he always showed when his big dick was inside me. I moaned before I even started to move.

  He squeezed my ass cheeks while his eyes remained locked on mine. Full of power, strength, and surging arousal, he wasn’t thinking about the fight we’d just had. All he was thinking about was me, the woman who was sitting in his lap. Antonio was finally an afterthought, and it was just the two of us.

  Boned pressed a kiss to my collarbone then trailed kisses all the way up to my ear. “Nice and slow, baby. That’s how I want it.” His large hands gripped my waistline and then guided me up and down, directing my pace down his shaft. His large shoulders rested against the couch, and he pressed his big feet to the ground to raise his hips to meet my movements.

  His chest was twice my width and three times my size. I could easily rest both of my arms against him, from my elbow to my fingertips. I leaned against him for support, my hips rolling dramatically to push him inside me. “Stop.” He was pushing up against me, making an effort when he should be sitting still. “My turn.” When I asked him to make love to me, I lay there while he did all the work. He fulfilled my fantasies, making me feel like the most desirable woman he’d ever been with. He made me feel loved, like I was the only woman who’d ever graced his sheets.