Coming Home (Morelli Family, #6) Read online

  Now he lifts my hand to his lips again so he can press a soft, sensual kiss there. “Besides, if you were the one having the baby now, you would be the one I couldn’t fuck for two months. That sounds like my own personal Hell.”

  “You survived for more than 30 years without fucking me; I think you’d make it a couple months so I could recover from birthing our baby.”

  Shuddering theatrically, he says, “Dark days. Let’s not talk about a time when I wasn’t fucking you.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip, trying—and failing—to stifle a smile.

  His brown eyes dance with amusement and he tucks me against him. “See? Nothing to be sad about. I’m just outsourcing this part so I can enjoy you.”

  I sigh, totally conquered. He knows it too, the smug bastard.

  “Fine,” I murmur, snuggling up against him. “You can’t use this excuse forever though,” I warn him, lightly jabbing a finger into his well-muscled chest.

  “I won’t,” he assures me, kissing the top of my head. “I want to have a baby with you. I just want the timing to be right. In the meantime, we can practice all the time, really get good at this whole sex thing.”

  I grin. “Oh yeah, we definitely don’t have it down.”

  “A couple of amateurs,” he playfully agrees. “We’re embarrassing ourselves here.”

  I loop my arms around his neck to give him a hug and sigh contentedly as he secures his arms around me. I fit so perfectly against his body, like I was carved out just to complement him. I could live right here, naked in his arms. I never want to leave.

  So of course he lets go and leans back, cocking his head and reminding me, “Now, didn’t you need to go to the bathroom?”

  He’s all cocky now that he’s talked me out of my perfectly reasonable feelings. I’ve been with him long enough to know his game, but I still let him win. Frankly, his way is usually better, and since my way meant I’d be sad all night, while his way feels much better, I latch onto his view of this whole situation and head to the bathroom much calmer than I would’ve a few minutes ago.

  When I come back out, he has moved from the sitting room to the bedroom. The lights are off in the other room, so I guess we’re in bed for the night.

  He looks as handsome as ever relaxing on the bed with his hands crossed behind his head. He still has his dress pants on, but he didn’t put his shirt back on. I didn’t bother putting my clothes back on either, I just tossed them in the dirty clothes. Now I climb into bed naked, flushing with pleasure as his gaze moves over me. He sees me naked roughly four days a week, but he still manages to look at me each time with heated interest.

  I climb on the bed and curl up under the blankets. I love how cool the sheets and underside of the covers feel against my bare skin. I sigh with pleasure and curl up on my side so I can look at Mateo.

  “You know that winter gala you wanted me to take you to next Friday?” he asks, casually.

  I nod my head. “The one you said you were too busy for?” I ask lightly. “Yes, I do remember that.”

  “I found a little room in my schedule. Still want to go?”

  I raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “The tickets sold out. No brownie points for offering when you already know we can’t go.”

  Smirking at me, he reaches over and snakes his arm under my body, yanking me against his side. “I don’t need brownie points,” he reminds me.

  I roll my eyes, but snuggle up against the bastard anyway.

  “Anyway,” he continues. “I made a couple calls. Talked to the coordinator. Turns out they found a couple more tickets to sell me.”

  Now I grin up at him. “Really? You intimidated someone into letting you donate money to charity? That is some contradictory badassery, right there.”

  “I’m well-rounded,” he deadpans.

  “You’re my hero,” I inform him, still grinning.

  “Hey, if my woman wants to go to some stupid charity gala, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  I glow at being called his woman and curl up closer, my lips moving like a magnet to his bare chest. Just by being him, he’s made me forget my earlier annoyance. I want to move along to more enjoyable activities.

  Before I can effectively seduce him, he reaches over toward the bedside table and grabs a box. A jewelry box, if I’m not mistaken.

  “I was going to save these for Christmas, but they pair well with the dress and shoes you’ve got coming tomorrow.”

  Now I push myself up, eyeing up the box eagerly. “For the gala?”

  He nods and hands me my present.

  I crack it open and nestled inside are gorgeous, glimmering sapphire and diamond earrings. “Wow,” I say, flashing him a grin. “These are so beautiful. Thank you.” I lean in to give him a hug. He holds onto me longer than I expect, and then his hand skates down the curve of my back. He can’t resist grabbing my ass, and it reignites my desire for him. A little sigh of pleasure escapes me. God, how I crave this man.

  My womb may be empty, but now my head is filled with fantasies of next weekend, going out on his arm, publicly, visibly his. Meg usually gets to go with him to public things like that if he has to attend.

  Even though I’m aggravated with her tonight, I feel a stab of guilt. That’s going to make Meg mad. Not only is he stripping her of any nights with him this week (she’s already had one, but she should have a couple more coming), now he’s taking me to the kind of society function he would ordinarily take her to. It’s maybe an excessive punishment, considering I really don’t think she had any ill intentions. We were talking, apparently everyone else in the damn house knew already, and she happened to mention it. If anything, it’s probably his fault for not telling me right away.

  I don’t have it in me to say any of that, though. I don’t want to step on her toes, but I’m not about to turn down extra dates. Regardless of his insistence that I get my own family time with him, Meg gets far more of it than I do, and like Adrian pointed out, it’s unlikely she’s going to change her mind anytime soon.

  This sort of thing probably makes it even less likely.

  Surely Mateo understands that.

  Then again, he only respects anyone’s rules as far as he wants to. He already promised me he would give me a baby when I wanted one. I just didn’t want it to be a war. I didn’t want it to hurt anybody; I wanted Meg to come around to the idea and let me have an equal share of everything she has.

  But I guess she doesn’t get everything I get, either.

  I have the larger slice of Mateo’s heart. He’s never punished me for not playing nice with her, not one single time. This isn’t the first time he’s done it to her. I’m sure it won’t be the last.

  To be fair, though, I also generally play nice. I’m too cautious of Mateo thinking the sharing is wearing on me too much, too unsure of what that would mean for Meg. She doesn’t seem to worry about any of that, but then there’s no reason to.

  We all know Mateo would never hurt me.

  Chapter One

  Mia

  “I never want to go back home.”

  Two strong arms curl around me, pressing me against the balcony and keeping me close as I look out at the white sand beach, sparsely dotted with palm trees. The gentle ocean breeze blows my hair back. He releases one arm around me to bunch it up in one hand and tug the blond strands aside, clearing the way for him to kiss the nape of my neck. I close my eyes to savor the feeling, but only for a second; I don’t want to tear my eyes away from the ocean. Everything about this moment is perfect and I want to remember it forever.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I murmur, my hand coming up to rest lightly on the back of his head as he buries it in my neck.

  “It sure is.”

  I smile at the sound of his rough voice in my ear. “You’re not even looking at the beach,” I point out.

  “Then I must not have been talking about that,” he reasons, lightly. Still, he stops kissing my neck long enough to look out over the balcony at the beautif
ul Bahamian beach below.

  “I love having you all to myself,” I tell him, giving in to a moment of selfish honesty.

  Mateo’s voice is more solemn than usual as he answers, “I know. I do, too.”

  Reality weighs on me for a moment. It usually doesn’t; after four years of sharing this wonderful man with Meg, I’m used to it. The thing is, I can handle him now. With Vince gone, he’s not hard to handle at all. It’s not all smooth sailing and beach vacations, of course; he’s still him. But now that all the big obstacles are out of way, he’s much more relaxed. I never need a break from him anymore. I may have needed Meg for training wheels when this first started, but now I’m fully capable of riding on my own.

  I’m also completely confident he’s my soulmate. After four years, I still crave him like I did when I could only sit beside him at the dinner table, belonging to someone else.

  Given our arrangement, he hasn’t married either of us. I look down at my left hand resting on the rail of the balcony. At the five carats of emerald cut Harry Winston on my finger. My ring is a lot bigger than Meg’s and significantly more expensive, but I think only because he knows I’m more into that kind of thing than she is. It’s perfect for me, but it wouldn’t suit Meg at all.

  Hers was supposed to lead to an actual wedding, though. It hasn’t, not in four years. I think that’s my fault. He can’t marry her without not marrying me, so he doesn’t marry either of us.

  I rarely ask about it. I’m as comfortable with him as someone can be, but I don’t like bugging him about that kind of thing for a lot of reasons. I don’t want to be a hassle, for one thing. I know it’s a complicated situation and he doesn’t like to discuss marital things, so I feel troublesome if I bring it up.

  Also, I don’t want him to think I want Meg gone. I know I’m his favorite, and I know what he’s capable of; if he thought having her around hurt me in any way, I’m not completely sure he’d keep her around.

  Which, considering she’s nearly five months pregnant with baby number two right now, you wouldn’t expect. But it turns out Meg was right—I can sorta wield him.

  Her new pregnancy also makes me a little pissy though, because it’s been four damn years and she still won’t let me have his baby. I think it’s just a punishment at this point. She knows I’m his favorite, too. I think she likes that he lets her keep that stipulation, because we all know he doesn’t abide any rules he finds too restricting.

  After four years, he’s never even let me go on the pill, even though he hates condoms, so he can maintain the freedom to change his mind on a dime. To keep the subtle threat there, maybe. Meg isn’t me, so she doesn’t like that side of him, but when she starts to aggravate him, he’ll whip it out to knock her back in line.

  Here on our beachfront balcony, Mateo’s hand snakes inside the little triangle of black fabric covering my breast and I smile, leaning back against him. “We can’t have sex again. We need to go shopping.”

  “I vehemently disagree with both of those statements,” he says, catching the weight of my breast in his hand.

  “I promised Bella we’d bring back a souvenir.”

  He sighs, extracting his hand from my bikini top. “This is supposed to be your birthday trip and you’re worried about getting gifts for everyone else.”

  I turn in his arms, gazing up into his beautiful brown eyes. He’s even more tan than usual from spending six days down here in the sun, and he’s still as sexy as ever. I could’ve spent the whole vacation just staring at him and left satisfied.

  “You’re my birthday gift,” I tell him, grinning like a cheese ball.

  Rolling his eyes, he says, “You’re lucky I love you.”

  “I sure am,” I agree, leaning up on my toes to steal a kiss before I break away from him and head back in the hotel room. “Now come on, get a shirt on so we can go buy stuff.”

  He pulls the balcony door closed behind him and watches me find a dress from the closet and pull it on. I go in the bathroom to fix my hair—we spent the afternoon in bed and I probably should’ve showered again first, but my mind won’t be at ease until I have something to take back for Bella. She was so envious of this vacation. Many nights she spent lying tummy-down on my bed, scrolling through websites on my laptop, not-so-subtly pointing out all the cool family things we could do if we brought her with us. I even suggested it, but Mateo said no.

  Typically our family vacations are the whole family—Meg, Lily, and Rosalie, as well. It’s not that we never have them; just not nearly as often. In four years, we’ve been on family vacations three times. Romantic getaways he usually alternates between me and Meg. This is the longest one he’s taken though—usually it’s two or three days, but for my 23rd birthday, he gave me a whole week alone with him in the Bahamas.

  Seven amazing days.

  At least, six of them have been. I have no worries that the last day will be, as well.

  Everything is perfect with him.

  ---

  “Right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Morelli.”

  I squeeze Mateo’s hand unconsciously, a helpless grin creeping across my lips. I love this part of vacations. I’m regularly referred to as his wife by staff. Any hapless onlooker would think that—why wouldn’t they? They don’t know us here.

  It’s wonderful. No bodyguards, no work, no sister wife, no well-known reputation. We’re just a man and woman who love each other. That’s it.

  It’s nighttime now, our last night here. Mateo got us a reservation at a majestic beachfront restaurant. The waves lap at the shore right beside us. I can smell the salty ocean breeze as we follow the host to our table.

  God, I don’t want to go home. It’s not even the beach; I’d go on vacation with him to a Motel 6 in the sticks—I just want to keep him all to myself.

  That’s selfish, though. Surely Meg felt the same way when she had to suddenly open up her life to me, and she did that for both of us. It’s not always easy to share, but nothing about love is always easy.

  The hostess seats us at a table for two, covered with a white linen cloth, a flickering candle at the center. Mateo pulls my chair out for me—he always does when we go out. Then he takes his seat on the other side, looking out over the ocean.

  “We should get a beach house someday. When the new baby’s old enough to run things back home. That way he won’t have to kill me to take my power,” he adds, a little dryly, as he unrolls the silverware on the table.

  “Adrian wants a beach house when he retires, too. Maybe we can be neighbors.”

  Mateo smirks at me, relaxing back in the chair. “You and Adrian make plans for when he retires, huh? Does Elise know about this?”

  I roll my eyes at him. I know he’s only teasing, but the idea that I’d ever want anyone else is so ridiculous, I can hardly even humor him. “Obviously I’ve been using you to get to him.”

  “I knew it.”

  “It was a very elaborate plan,” I continue.

  “Too elaborate,” he determines, grabbing the menu and flipping it open. “You could never pull off a long con like that. Meg might be able to. Not you.”

  “I could totally pull off a long con,” I tell him, even though I’m completely full of shit.

  “You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

  I wrinkle up my nose at him in mock-displeasure, but he turns his attention back to the menu, clearly amused by the mere idea. I’m only half-joking when I tell him, “Everyone always underestimates me.”

  “That’s because you’re surrounded by people more wily than you. You’re an angel in the underworld. We can generally see right through you.”

  I roll my eyes. “I am far from an angel.”

  “Compared to me?” he asks, amused. “Sure you are.”

  “Well, that’s not an average comparison. You’re exceedingly…” I pause, searching for a nice way to put it. I come up with nothing, so I look for him to save me, but he merely cocks his head, amused, waiting for me to go on. “Sexy,” I final
ly finish.

  He chuckles, flipping over the drink menu. “Nice save.”

  It’s easy to forget all the bad he’s done on a daily basis, but the lesson of last time I overestimated his goodness still lingers in my mind. He’s more Prince Charming than villain to me right now, here on this beach, but he can flip his evil on like a switch and transform into the stuff my nightmares are made of.

  He just doesn’t have a reason to anymore.

  So I forget sometimes.

  I am cruel. Wake the fuck up, Mia.

  Nope.

  I’ll keep my dreams intact, thank you very much.

  Chapter Two

  Vince

  I knew Meg saw me at the bakery.

  Well, not at the bakery; I’m not a fucking moron. But across the street, watching her close up, seeing if she was alone.

  I was told Mia worked every Saturday, but here it is, Saturday, and that’s definitely not Mia. Maybe she took today off since it’s her birthday weekend. I probably should’ve considered that when I planned this, but I figured since today isn’t her actual birthday I’d be okay.

  When Meg saw me across the street, she looked just long enough to alarm me. I waited for her to grab her phone, to rat me out to Mateo or Adrian, to tell them I’m back in town and bring the hounds of hell after my ass.

  But she didn’t. She got in the car and prepared to leave like nothing was amiss.

  Now she sits at the end of the parking lot with her turn signal on. Instead of pulling out, she just watches me.

  When she finally turns, I follow her.

  This is about as off-plan as I can get, but I have a feeling about it. Maybe I’m wrong. This plan is all risk, anyway. There are about a million ways it could go bad. I just don’t care.

  Meg pulls off into a strip mall down the road, and I follow her in. I roll up into the parking spot beside her. It’s a rainy, chilly day, even for March in Chicago, but when she rolls down her window, I roll mine down, too.

  “What are you doing here, Vince?”

  I haven’t heard her voice in so long. I realize I kinda missed her. Meg’s a little crazy, but she’s still fun to have around.