Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)
Page 55
I hesitate, glancing at the lounger, but when my gaze drifts back to Rafe, his easy-going vibe is gone. He reminds me of Mateo again as he watches to see what I’ll do. Despite his unwavering gaze telling me without words that his command is still valid, he doesn’t repeat himself.
Lifting my chin defiantly, I ignore Vince and ask Rafe sweetly, “Can I get you anything else while I’m up?”
Lazily nodding toward the used paper plate beside his lounger, he says, “Throw this away.”
Since he doesn’t bother handing it to me, I have to bend over to grab it. It becomes clear that was intentional as his gaze moves to my breasts and he unapologetically checks me out, this time right in front of Vince.
A slow smile spreads across his face and he gives me a little wink. “Good girl.”
I bite back a smile and hasten away to get our drinks before Vince has a chance to flip the fuck out.
Chapter Seventeen
Mia
I’ve had too much to drink.
Way too much to drink.
I definitely should not be in the pool. If I drown because I’m drunk off my ass in Vince’s dad’s pool, I’m going to be so pissed.
Jessica’s trying to get Vince to dance with her. He’s resisting, since he’s not a big fan of dancing, but the harder he resists, the more she tries.
I don’t care. I have a margarita I definitely don’t need and I’m heading to the grotto to hide out and finish drinking it in peace. I’m normally more sociable than this, but I hate everyone right now. Well, pretty much everyone. Rafe has been nice to me, but he hasn’t rescued me, so screw him. I tried to steal Jessica’s phone earlier, but Vince caught me and got super pissed. Now Jessica is pissed at me for making Vince mad at her, since he lectured her about leaving her phone out where I could get to it.
The pool party with my captors has not been a great time for me, overall. So I started drinking all the margaritas. After the fifth, life started to look a lot better. I have no idea what number I’m on now. I stopped counting. It doesn’t matter. I’m just going to spend the rest of my time here drunk. Being drunk feels way better than being sober.
“Margaritas are delicious,” I murmur to my margarita glass. I’m feeling so good right now. Tonight’s going to be fine. It doesn’t even matter that Vince is going to want to stick his dick in me again—actually, I’m so drunk, I might not fight him. What difference does it even make at this point? If Mateo’s going to kill me for it, he’ll do it whether I get fucked once or 30 times.
I hope Mateo doesn’t kill me. I’ll be so sad. And dead. But primarily sad.
I hear the water sloshing but I don’t pay any attention until Rafe swims into the grotto with me.
I expected it to be Vince checking on me, so I’m pleasantly surprised. I grin up at him as I take a sip of my margarita. “There you are.”
He raises an eyebrow. He’s been drinking, too, but he’s not drunk like I am. “Have you been waiting for me?”
“No,” I drawl. “But I kinda hoped you’d find me.”
“Did you, now?” he asks, moving closer.
God, he’s so nice to look at. I’ve never really been into blondes myself, but holy smokes. He makes me miss Mateo, but somehow makes me feel closer to him, too.
“I wish you’d like Mateo again,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to not like Mateo.”
“Why do you care if I like Mateo?”
“I love Mateo and I like you, and I want you both to get along. I bet you guys have a lot in common. You should be friends. It’s dumb to be enemies when you could be friends instead.”
Now he moves into my personal space, but it only makes me feel happier. Mateo invades my personal space, too. I miss him so much. I despise every inch of land keeping us apart.
“Mm hmm,” he murmurs, bracing an arm on the cave wall behind me, bringing his body in front of me. Then he takes my margarita glass and puts it up on the ledge, his other arm moving around me. He’s closing me in with his body, just like Mateo does.
I feel myself melting like putty in his hands.
Dipping closer so he can talk low in my ear, he says, “You just want to use me.”
Breathing is so hard. Oh, god, he’s so close. I want to touch his shoulders. I’m hardly aware of the thought and then I am touching them, running my hands over them. He has good shoulders, just like Mateo. I ache with how much I want Mateo right now, but this man is somehow evoking that yearning.