Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

Her little lips are pursed, her inborn stubborn nature at war with her Morelli-girl conditioning. Once Mateo says stop, it’s time to stop, she knows that. But this is clearly weighing on her little mind, and I don’t want it there. “Promise?” she asks.

I nod vigorously. “Cross my heart.”

She hugs me around the neck. “I love you, too.” Then she lets go and hops off the bed, heading for the door.

I climb off, grabbing Mateo’s hand and tugging him back around before he can follow her out. He still looks irritated, so I wind my arms around his neck and lean in to give him a good kiss—the kind that’s bound to make us both want him to stay.

His grip on my hips tightens and he pulls me close, walking me back toward the bed. My blood stirs, but I’m aware of the little girl lingering by the door.

“You’ve gotta go,” I remind him.

Pulling back, he looks over at Isabella. “You go ahead; I’ll catch up in a few minutes.”

She wrinkles up her nose at him. “You’re gonna kiss her more, huh?”

“I am,” he states.

“Okay,” she says brightly, turning and leaving us alone in the bedroom.

Mateo smirks, lifting me up and tossing me down on the mattress. “I think she likes you,” he jokes.

“Must run in the family,” I tease, crawling backward on the bed.

He catches me before I make it too far, pushing my arms over my head and pinning them there. Oh, I hope he has some aggression to take out on me. I love when he’s gentle, but I still love it when he’s not. Maybe it’s good she brought up Beth; thinking about Beth makes him a little mean. I love him a little mean.

“You’re not supposed to be doing this, mister. I’ve had you for a whole week. You need to go sleep in your own bed.”

His lips move along my neck, then he rumbles in my ear, “Then I’ll just use you and leave you here.”

That shouldn’t arouse me, but oh, how it does. I shouldn’t let him fuck me when he’s going to spend the night with Meg, but I’m not good at telling him no. Which kind of works out, because he’s not good at listening to it.

Chapter Four

Mia

“You’re up early.”

Mateo glances up as I take a seat at the breakfast table with my scrambled eggs, but he’s always up early—Meg, not so much.

Flashing me a smile as she takes a sip of her orange juice, she explains, “Couldn’t sleep.”

Pregnancy tends to make Meg sleepless. I wonder if it’s like that for all women. I wonder if it would be like that for me.

“Baby Morelli doing gymnastics again?”

“Something like that,” she agrees, picking up a strip of bacon and biting off the end. “Did you enjoy your time off from the bakery?”

I shrug. “I don’t mind my Saturdays. I mean, if it’s between that and lying beachfront in the Bahamas, I’m probably always going to choose the Bahamas, but it’s not a terrible way to spend the day.”

“Weird, I’d totally pick the bakery,” she remarks.

“Right? Most people hate sandy beaches and beautiful weather.”

Nodding her mock-agreement, she says, “When Mateo and I went there, I definitely hated it. Of course, I was only there for two days, not seven. Maybe it grows on you after a while.”

I look down at my plate, letting this joke go. There’s definitely an edge to that last part, and I think she resents him going away with me for so long. I also don’t know if she got her night’s worth, since Mateo fucked me before he went to her bed last night. I don’t know if he’ll stay in hers or come to mine tonight now.

“A whole week is a lot,” Mateo remarks, taking a sip of his coffee. “I like the shorter getaways.”

Despite her words, she smiles at him with convincing tenderness. “Yeah, a whole week certainly seems to have made you tired.”

His gaze slides to hers, a faint glimmer of warning in their brown depths. A moment passes, then he says, “Yeah, I think I’m going to be tired tonight, too.” Then, swinging his gaze to me, he says, “You won’t mind, will you, Mia?”

Meg stiffens. I flush. That was sort of mean, but I just shake my head no. I don’t really put my neck out when it comes to Mateo—if he wants to be mean, that’s their issue. I’m not getting involved.

“Of course not,” I murmur.

“Good,” he says smoothly.

Meg hasn’t finished her food, but now she stands and collects her dishes to take to the kitchen. Offering me a smile, she says, “Well, have a nice day at work, Mia.”

Once she’s gone, I do murmur, “That wasn’t very nice.”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. “I don’t care.”

That’s as far out as my neck’s going. I’m not about to make him mad at me, too.