Coming Home (Morelli Family 6)

“Well, I like your vision of me,” I tell him. “She seems way more impressive than my version.”

“You’re very impressive,” he informs me, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Was he with you the whole time you were there? Was he helping them keep you?”

I shake my head. “No, he was a neighbor. I actually only saw him twice. I tried to escape but I ended up at his house. He escorted me back to Ben’s house and told me to make him breakfast. I did, for some reason. Then last night he came over for a cookout and he was there for a few hours, we got drunk, the pool happened, then I flipped my shit on Vince, Rafe stepped in… and that was it. Then Rafe took me to his house to sleep, just to keep me from Vince, and then he called you.”

He looks more than a little impressed. “You met him two times and he saved you? You must’ve made quite the impression.”

“I got the impression he liked me,” I admit, before adding dryly, “I think the alcohol helped. It made me really open. I was telling him I was scared and various embarrassingly vulnerable things I normally wouldn’t.”

He runs his hands tenderly down my arms, the left side of his mouth curving up ever so slightly. “Oh, I’m sure he liked that.”

I shrug. “I guess so.”

“Did you kiss him?”

I can’t help looking guilty. “Once. By accident, kinda. I kissed him back, I didn’t initiate. But only once and it wasn’t a real kiss, it was just… hardly worth mentioning. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” he says, leaning in to give me a kiss that is worth mentioning.

When he pulls back, I continue, “I was so afraid you’d get Beth flashbacks. Vince kept trying to convince me you were going to kill me.”

He sounds only mildly curious when he asks, “Did you believe him?”

Grimacing, I say, “No?”

Mateo laughs. Because it’s funny when the woman you love thinks there might be a chance you’ll murder her, clearly.

I lightly shove him, but he catches my wrist and pulls me in for another kiss, eyes dancing with amusement. “I was fairly certain you wouldn’t.”

“I promise never to murder you. How’s that?”

Nodding with mock-consideration, I say, “I’ll take it.”

After our shower, I feel recharged as Mateo and I get ready to go downstairs. Apparently Meg stole some of my make-up while I was gone, because when I open the drawer to use hers, I find many of my own items instead.

Mateo finishes getting ready before me, so he tells me he’s going to head downstairs ahead of me. I finish primping, then I go to steal one of Meg’s dresses, but I don’t even make it to the walk-in because Mateo’s already laid one out for me—a pretty gold dress, low-cut, skimpy, and sparkly. It’s new, so I have to cut the tags off before I slip it on, then I slide on a pair of nude pumps at the edge of the bed and head downstairs to join my man.

Well, our man.

God, it’s good to be home.

I’m amazed as I enter the study and I can look at Rafe without guilt. I haven’t been able to since last night, but with his words, his kisses, his control, Mateo stripped away my shame and replaced it with peace. I’m still not sure my instincts are as sharp as he says, but I like the idea, so I’ll take it.

He’s also usually right. I wouldn’t tell him that, of course, but he totally is.

Mateo’s arm curls possessively around my waist as we enter the room, an unconscious gesture, I think, but Rafe notices it and looks faintly amused. Adrian looks a little less amused, but he’s probably just thinking of the mess he’ll have on his hands if Mateo kills his cousin.

God, I’ve missed these guys. I’ve missed my family. I’ve missed the peaceful feeling of knowing I’m exactly where I belong. I know Mateo won’t have Bella brought to his study, but I hope he lets her come to dinner. If not, I’ll have to go find her after so I can apologize for the disappearing act.

“So, that’s what you look like in clothes,” Rafe remarks.

I narrow my eyes at him, unamused.

I expect Mateo to head over to his perch at the edge of his desk like he always does, asserting his dominance, but he surprises me completely by heading over to the chair opposite Rafe and taking a seat.

I expected there to be an unpleasant undercurrent, despite Mateo’s words upstairs, but there isn’t. He and Rafe chat just like he chats with any of the guys, but there is an undercurrent of similarity between them, like two lions at the watering hole. Ordinarily Mateo is very obviously the lion, the king, the boss of every person in the room. He doesn’t have to do anything to be that—he just is. It’s in his blood, it’s as much a part of him as anything; he commands, it’s what he does.