The Arrangement 20 (The Ferro Family) Read online

  She squeezes my hands and looks up at me.

  “And Henry? You really think he won’t screw us over?”

  “It won’t get that far. I plan on doing a test run before I send you out with it. Mel will have a second bead as well. I’m hoping Black will offer to accompany you two. Gabe said he’ll be ordered to drive you to a location and Mel will follow to close the deal. The exchange is done onsite.”

  “How much money are we talking about? It seems like a weird question, but I was wondering…” her voice trails off.

  “You're wondering how much you're worth? Avery, that’s not an indication of anything except hatred.”

  “Five figures? The same amount you paid?” She looks up at me and pleads with those sexy eyes.

  “Fuck, Avery.” I run my hands through my hair and push off the couch. Walking away from her, I say, “I’d give everything I have to keep you out of this.”

  “I know you would." She gets up and walks over to me. She splays her fingers across my chest and takes my face in her hand. She turns my chin until I’m looking her in the eye. Her scent fills my head and I want to pull her against me and never let go. "And I know you don’t like talking about how we got together.”

  “I returned you.”

  “Yeah, that.” She smiles. “I’m just glad things turned out this way. I keep wondering if I’d do it again, and I want to think I wouldn’t--but if that means losing you--I couldn’t walk away. I love you, Sean.”

  “I love you, too.” I pull her into my chest and feel her breasts press against me as her arms lace behind my back. “We have a few hours before everything is ready tomorrow morning. I’d like to spend that time with you, doing things that make you squee and go cray-cray.”

  She giggles against me and I can’t keep the smile off my face. “When you put it like that, how can I say no?”

  CHAPTER 10

  SEAN

  Henry gives us a guest room and leaves quickly. It's midday and the sunlight cuts through the windows forming shafts of light on the rugs. Fresh clothing lays on the canopy bed. The room is dressed in reds and golds. I notice a plaque with a unicorn and a lion on the wall above the fireplace. It's as if the room is in a time warp.

  “He has a bit of a fetish with old crap, doesn’t he?” Avery glances around, lips parted.

  “Circa 1500 or so, yes, and he’s proud of his period pieces. It wouldn’t surprise me if the window panes downstairs are original to that duke’s home that he looted.” I walk through the room and look into the bath. It’s European style, too, with a basic shower minus the curtain, and massive claw-foot tub.

  “I would have never thought he’d like this stuff," Avery says, laughing to herself. "He seems so cutting edge. I thought he’d have a robot staff and moving sidewalks in his super-modern house. Not a relic from the old country.”

  Sean shrugs. “To each his own. What do you want our house to look like? Modern? Country?” She sticks out her tongue at me. “What, you don’t like shabby chic?”

  Avery walks over to me and pushes me on my shoulders. The bed is a step behind me. I step back and then she shoves me again.

  “Sit, Mr. Jones.” She shoves me hard and I fall back on the massive bed. Avery grins and pushes me back onto the bed as she straddles my lap. My response to her begins to strain against my jeans. She smiles when she feels me reacting to her. I reach for her waist and rest my hands on the curve of her hips.

  “I know, French modern.”

  “Maybe." She smiles at me and nods slowly. "Or Tuscan with an Avery flare.”

  “An Avery flare? Is that code for glitter?”

  “You know me so well.” She laughs. The sound is rich, so filled with joy it makes me want to hear it again. Her laughter is like food for my soul. I can never have enough.

  I’m pulled from my thoughts when her smile fades and her gaze locks on my mouth. She sits there, above me, looking down at me like an angel. Her dark hair falls over her shoulders as she leans forward. Slowly, she inches toward me and her lips part slightly.

  She stops just above my mouth and brushes her breasts against me ever so slightly. The sensation is all consuming. The lightness of the touch makes me want it even more. I slip my hands up her back to pull her down, trying to feel those perfect curves press against my chest, but she remains where she is, just above me.

  “Do you trust me, Sean?” The way she says it makes my stomach flutter. It's as if she wants to torment me with light kisses and thinks asking my permission will make me say yes.

  She must read my mind, because she quickly adds, “I’ve been thinking about things, things that terrify both of us, and I want to see if there’s middle ground.”

  “There’s not.” I push up on my elbows, but she swats my shoulder and pushes me back into the bed. I try not to smile at her even though I want to.

  There’s something about Avery that ignites everything I’ve attempted to repress deep within me--no, it was beyond that. I didn’t repress my emotions, my feelings that lead to joy, happiness, or hope. I destroyed them.

  All this time, my face has been devoid of emotion. No one can read me, ever. I don’t allow it. My heart isn’t on my sleeve--it’s been decimated by my own hand. There’s been no trace of emotion left within me, and yet--this damaged, beautifully broken woman found a speck of hope, a remnant of the man I once was. She could have used it against me. I wouldn’t have seen it coming. For all I knew, I was barren and utterly broken. She took that scrap of a soul, as she calls it, and nurtured it.

  Now it wants to grow and will flourish if I let it. The thing is, it’s been so long since I trusted anyone that I struggle not to maintain my old ways. So when she says something that makes me want to smile, I don’t. When she does something that makes me want to laugh, I swallow that joy and banish it from my face.

  My emotions have rooted within me once again and are dying to burst free. I feel the need to laugh tickle me from within, and it’s getting harder to hide the joy she brings. These things have the power to destroy me. I’ve perfected the art of living alone and needing no one. I’m self-sufficient in every sense of the word. That ability made it possible to erect walls thicker than any vault. They were impenetrable, indestructible, but Avery floated through, like a ghost, aimed directly for my heart. I was too shocked to run, too elated to remain alone.

  I can push her away, I can protect myself, but at some point she might not come back. Life without Avery would be unbearable. I can’t fathom it.

  There’s one thing that frightens me as much as it exhilarates me. She senses it. I know she does. It’s beyond skin on skin or pretty words that fade after fucking someone who doesn’t matter.

  Avery matters.

  Avery knows she matters.

  That’s the bridge we have to cross. There’s no way Avery will allow us to stay on the safe side of our emotions, half alive and hiding behind walls of our own making. I press my lips together and try to relax, but I can feel the nerve in my jaw twitching. It wants to take action, contort my face to a scowl, and silence my words. The fastest way to pierce a heart is with indifference. Stubborn urges rise up within me, making me want to lash out and run.

  No one has ever terrified me more.

  No one has seen what she sees in me. Avery perceives a good man, a man I once strove to be but abandoned. Truth be told, I wonder if that version of me would have been more successful in love and in life. I thought his heart was a weakness, something that would lead to his demise. I murdered him long before I lost Amanda. I destroyed him before anyone else could.

  I’m so distant from my thoughts I don’t even call that young man me. I say him because it feels less personal. It makes his mistakes sting less. It divides my life in a way that creates a dichotomy of weakness and strength. Things Sean could do and things he could not. There is nothing else.

  Until I met Avery.

  The good man I was once cried out from the wasteland that was once my soul, begging me to hold on to her. I
know she’s my last chance at…life, love, everything.

  The human being I’ve become is not who I strove to be. When I was a boy I wanted power, but I also wanted grace. I wanted to be compassionate and trustworthy. I didn’t want to resemble my father in any shape or form. When I surpassed his callousness, his cruelty, I remember understanding him for the first time. It made me think this path was walked for a reason. I saw why Ferro men cling to this path, this attitude, this life.

  It’s difficult to admit the enormousness of my mistake, but I no longer wish to remain on this path. The only way to fix this is through her--through Avery. I know she’s my only chance. She’s compassionate where I am calloused, hopeful where I am cynical. She has more to be afraid of from life than I can fathom, and yet--here she is, with me.

  Is it a change in the truest sense of the word, to revert to a previous version of you? How hard will it be to find myself amongst the ashes and carnage that I’ve left in my wake all these years?

  Will she run when she realizes this part of me will always be with me, trying to pull me back into darkness? That I'll never feel good enough, strong enough, or tough enough to help her endure the storms life throws our way?

  She watches me, her gaze intensely focused on my eyes, waiting for an answer. It’s hard to watch her and not feel anything. I can’t begin to fathom the emotions bubbling up from inside me. I once thought she poked a hole in a dried-up river bed within me, but it was so much more than that.

  She broke my walls and let the water from within the damn flow free. She saw the impending deluge and she didn’t run.

  She’s still here.

  She chose me.

  “We don’t know that. There might be a place in the middle. There’s something we haven’t really done, and I’m not asking you again. Do you trust me?” Avery looms over me with those deep brown eyes, her lips pulling into a sexy smile. She shifts her weight and rubs against me, making me moan. The tension between us is growing larger by the moment.

  I’d planned on taking her up here and kissing her--doing soft things that she enjoys--but I’m not sure what to make of this request. It reminds me of our time in the hospital, and I’m curious.

  She sweeps her body over mine, barely touching, and whispers in my ear, “Trust me.”

  Shivers erupt over my skin as her words consume me. The haunting way she says it, the way she changes her question to a command, undoes me. I relax into the bed and take a deep breath. Her eyes flick to my lips. When she looks up, she silently demands my answer.

  I can barely breathe. The air is too hot and there’s not enough to fill my lungs. I hide what she does to me, as my mind insists on taking small breaths, not giving away how much I want her--how much I need to be inside her. I fight against mental restraints cultivated in a lifetime of pain.

  I suck in a shaky breath as a tremor rips through me. “I trust you. Completely.”

  CHAPTER 11

  AVERY

  I lean over him, waiting. I can see he’s fighting something in his mind. I don’t know what it is or why this is so hard for him. I wish I knew the exact reason and can only hope that one day, he’ll tell me.

  I push the thought away. I don’t want to focus on tomorrow right now. I don’t want to think about what might happen to us if we fail. I know this may be the last time we’re together, and if things go to Hell--I know I won’t see him again. I know my fate. I have my plan B, which Mel grudgingly accepted and then helped me perfect. Either way, Vic Jr. isn’t going to live past tomorrow.

  I don't have the same certainty--one way or the other--for Sean or for me.

  I want this to be something we both enjoy--something that’s freeing, exhilarating, and perfect. Not because my hips are in perfect proportion to my ass, but because he loves me and I love him. I watch him shiver after he speaks and I can’t help but smile. He’s fighting the walls that normally come up now, when he’s most vulnerable. Which leaves me with a very raw version of Sean, one I’ve rarely seen. I trace the pads of my fingers along his cheek and then up into his hair, pushing it away from those crystal eyes.

  “Let go. Release your thoughts.” I kiss his temple and lean back slightly, enough to see his face. “Let go of your fears. It’s just us. I won’t hurt you.” Leaning in, I kiss his other temple and hear his breath catch in his throat.

  His voice is a whisper, “I know you won’t.” It seems like he wants to say more, but his jaw tenses and he stops speaking.

  I place my fingers on his face and slide them over the stubble on his chin, and down his neck, across the soft spot on his throat, and down to his chest. My gaze follows my hand, except for the occasional glance at Sean’s face. I wish I could watch his eyes through this whole thing, but I want to focus on touching him as well. When I glance at him, his eyes are closed and his chin tips up. The muscles in his arms are corded tight like he’s trying to break free from invisible bindings.

  Leaning in, I press my lips to his throat. Sean sucks in hard, one gasp. The warmth of my mouth feels good against his skin. I slide my lips down and kiss a lower place, the one right above his Adam's apple. I feel him swallow hard and take a short breath before I dip lower. His hands pull at the sheets and I know how intense this feels for him. It feels that way for me, too.

  Sean Ferro has protected his life and his heart from everyone. He’s let me kiss the sides of his neck, but not here--not this soft spot that’s completely unguarded--and not his chest. It makes him feel vulnerable, something Sean can’t compartmentalize his way around.

  But it’s different now. He allows me to kiss him, not hiding the effect I’m having. Normally he shuts that down, but not now.

  I slip my lips to the soft spot at the base of his neck and slide my tongue along his skin. The motion makes him inhale, and his chest rises, pressing into mine. He holds onto the sheets tighter and presses his hips to mine, making it impossible not to feel how turned on he is. Sean’s eyes are shut tight, but his lips part and he moans my name, “Avery.”

  I press another kiss to that sensitive spot, sending a shiver through his body. His hands dart up and take hold of my shoulders tightly. His eyes fly open and he’s panicked, staring at me, breathing like there’s not enough air for the two of us.

  “Please…” he says the word and releases my arms, letting his hands drop to my hips. He holds onto my thighs tightly and pulls down, pressing my core against him.

  “No.” I say the word gently. His blue gaze flicks up to my eyes and holds. He’s ready to run, I can see it on his face. This pushes him into a place he’s afraid to go.

  I sit up completely, arching my back before pulling my shirt over my head. I toss it to the floor and unhook my bra. Pressing my lips together, I allow the fabric to dangle off my finger before dropping it on the bed. His eyes sweep over me, taking in my curves and fixating on the place where my bra had been. I smile down at him.

  “It’s hard to be on the bottom. Isn’t it?” I wiggle my hips as I say it, making my horrible pun clear.

  Sean barks an unexpected laugh. “Breaking the tension, are we?”

  “Maybe. You look a little freaked.”

  “Maybe I am.”

  “Maybe I want you to be. Maybe we’re both control freaks, and maybe it’s nice to give someone else control once in a while.” He watches me for a moment, hesitant to agree.

  “Nice isn’t a word that goes with sex. Nice is something that’s barely adequate. It’s not special. It’s not extrordinanary--it’s just nice.”

  I roll my eyes and stand up on the bed, one foot on each side of his hips. I slip off my panties and kick them into the air. They hit the wall and fall down behind a dresser. I stay like that, laughing over him. “How’s the view from down there?”

  Sean laughs--no, it’s more of a giggle--and grins widely.

  “Nice.”

  “If I couldn’t distinguish your sarcasm, Mr. Jones, that would have gotten you in trouble.”

  “Oh, are you dishing out punishm
ents? Perhaps I should be a bit of an asshat, you know, just to see what you’ll do.”

  The banter is light and flirty. I love it.

  “Shut up, chatterbox.”

  “You’ll have to make me, Miss Smith. There’s not much you can do that will render me speechless at this point, so...” Sean’s words die in his mouth as I step over his shoulders and sit down slowly, lowering myself onto his lips. I’m straddling his face, offering my most sensitive parts for him to devour. My heart is pounding as the initial contact changes to something more.

  I hear him moan beneath me and then his lips part. His hands come up and brace my hips as his tongue sweeps between my seams. The movement is so sudden and so deep that I’m caught off guard. I lean forward and press my palms against the wall, bracing myself. The one kiss sends shockwaves through me that travel the entire length of my body.

  This isn’t a starting point and I wasn’t really ready for it, but I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. His tongue moves against me again, licking me as deeply as possible. I gasp and resist the urge to rock against him.

  In a teasing voice I say, “You’ll have to do better than that, Mr. Jones, if you want me to--”

  My words trail off abruptly as his tongue pushes inside me. Sean grips my hips harder and pulls me down on his face. I gasp and clutch the wall, trying not to melt and fall backward. Being upright makes everything feel different. My body is tingling and with every move of his lips against me, I want more. Moaning, I start to rock against him.

  Sean encourages the movement. His mouth presses harder against me, making me want more. My breasts ache, wanting to be touched so badly that I hold them tight, continuing the slow build. Sean’s kisses are relentless, pressing deeper, flicking the right places, and making me cry out. I want to come against his mouth and can no longer control my hips. They want to buck against him, forcing him in deeper, feeling his kisses; his hot mouth against me is too much. Sean holds onto my hips and keeps me still. I can’t rock against him. I’m so close. His tongue is just below the spot that I need.