Deep (Pagano Family #4)(51)

“I know the reasoning. I don’t know why you’re telling me this.”

“Because you brought a woman to Brian’s funeral, and you held her hand all day. Because when you speak of family we need to keep safe, you say her name without hesitation. Because you reacted when J.J. called her your comare. She’s more than your mistress, isn’t she?”

His uncle’s powers of observation remained keen. Nick didn’t bother to think about his answer. “Yes.”

Ben sat forward and poured them both another drink. “She’s lovely. When things calm down, your aunt will call. We’ll have you both, and your mother, over for a nice dinner.”



oOo



Nick stood on his balcony, staring out to the sea. The surf was heavy, and the air resounded with crash after crash against the shore. He loved the ocean like this, roaring at the world, asserting its dominance, pulling even the earth under it. But he loved the silent stillness of the open sea on a calm day even better—glassy calm atop fathomless depths, hidden supremacy.

He stood and smoked, feeling the crashing surf echo inside him. Lately, he’d been fighting himself for calm almost constantly. Calm control was his greatest asset, his most powerful weapon. He was not reckless, ever. He did not make rash decisions, ever. That remained true. But he could feel his tether slipping in his hands. The damage Church had done was personal. There was no tether strong enough to keep that truth from his mind.

The door opened behind him, and he stubbed out his cigarette.

“I always forget that you smoke.” Beverly stepped up close behind him and circled her arms around his waist. “You don’t do it much.”

“It’s a private thing. I smoke when I need to think a certain kind of thought.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed it. “You did well today, bella. Thank you.”

She really had. He’d been concerned about how she’d do, surrounded by Pagano Brothers family, but he needn’t have been. She’d stayed calm after the Church encounter, and she had simply been absorbed into the women at his uncle’s house. He’d checked on her a few times and had found her talking with his aunt and mother and the other women, helping in the kitchen, seemingly perfectly at her ease. His mother had pulled him aside late in the afternoon and waxed euphoric about her—so pretty, so smart, so sweet, such a good girl. She’d even remarked that Beverly had ‘good hips for babies’—he had no idea what that meant, and he didn’t bother to inquire. He got enough of the gist.

“I like your mom a lot. She’s kind of a broad. Your aunt, too.”

He looked over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“They say what they mean. They don’t tell themselves or anybody else fairy tales. They’re…pragmatic, I guess. If that makes sense. They don’t pretend things aren’t bad when they are, but instead of wringing their hands, they roll up their sleeves. I admire that. I try to be like that. It’s hard.”

“You are like that, Beverly.” He turned to face her, the touch of her arms sliding around his waist as he did so making his cock fill out. Her hair was loose, and she’d washed her face clean of makeup. She didn’t seem to wear much anyway, but without it, she looked younger and more innocent.

She wore one of his t-shirts, and he plucked at the shoulder. “Didn’t you see what was on my bed?”

“I did.” Her eyes dropped, and her head along with it. “I didn’t know if it was for me.”

He lifted her chin. “A lingerie box, open on my bed. Who else would it be for?” He smiled, but he could feel irritation beginning to bubble. “You think maybe I bought it for myself?”

“I just…didn’t want to presume.”

That irritation surged. “We’ll have this conversation now, and never again. I don’t f*ck around. I never f*ck more than one woman at a time—and I mean that in any possible definition. I told you I want to be with you. I’m with you. If there’s lingerie on my bed, it’s because I bought it for you and expect you to wear it. Are we clear?”

Her eyes flashed in the moonlight, and she stepped away from him. “We’re clear. And good. I don’t cheat, either. But watch your tone. I don’t take orders. What if I don’t like what you buy me?”

Now his smile was sincere. As gentle as she was, she stood up for herself, always. “Then say that. Do you not like it?”

She smiled back, lighting up the night. “It’s pretty fancy. I’ve never worn anything like it. But it’s freaking beautiful.”

He pulled her close and slid his hand under the t-shirt, then into her panties, between her legs. She was as wet as he was hard. She gasped at his touch and threw her head back, her hands clutching his arms. He flicked his fingers over the swollen bud of her clit, and she twitched and moaned.

“Wear it tomorrow,” he growled. “I’m gonna f*ck you right here.” He kissed her, fiercely, more than he’d even intended, and wrapped his fist around her underwear. He yanked until the side tore free, then he turned and shoved her against the side of the building.

He felt her hands pushing at his chest, but he ignored her. When he had to let her mouth go to get the t-shirt over her head, she gasped, “Wait—not out here! The neighbors—Nick, no.”