Seven Days to Disappear from My Mafia Stepbrother novel · Chapter 32 of 32
Chapter 32: Seven Days
We took the red-eye to Boston in our wedding clothes.
The flight attendant gave us two little bottles of champagne and wouldn't take any money.
At the rental counter Lucio asked for a paper map.
The kid behind the desk had to go find one in a back room.
We drove north with the sun coming up and no phones in the car.
No buzzing.
No dots.
No old man at a pawnshop and no capo and no sister.
Just the road, and his hand on my knee, and a radio station that only played songs from before I was born.
The cabin belonged to the older capo.
He'd given Lucio the key at the wedding, wrapped in a napkin, with directions written on the back in pencil.
It was two hours north of Boston, at the end of a dirt road.
The lake had never been given a name on the map.
One room.
A woodstove.
A bed under a window that looked straight out at the water.
A dock with a rowboat tied to it, half full of rain.
And no signal at all.
Lucio held his empty hand up to the sky in the yard.
"Nothing," he said.
"We don't have phones."
"I know. I'm just checking that nobody else does."
The key was under a coffee can on the step, the way the napkin said.
I unlocked the door.
Then Lucio picked me up.
All of me, boots and white dress and all, in his arms, off the step.
"That's more than ten pounds," I said.
"It's been a year, Rox."
"Your surgeon would have a heart attack."
"My surgeon isn't invited."
He carried me over the threshold and kicked the door shut behind us.
The cabin smelled like pine and old smoke and lake water.
He set me down beside the bed.
He didn't let go.
The light through the window was gold on the water and gold on his face.
My father's ring was on his left hand.
I kept looking at it.
I'd looked at it on my mother's hand for ten years and hated it.
I couldn't stop looking at it now.
"Say it," he said.
"Say what?"
"You know what."
"Yes," I said. "Every day. Stop asking."
"I'm never going to stop asking."
"I know," I said, and pulled him down onto the bed.
He kissed me, and I kissed back like I'd been holding my breath for a year.
The dress, Leni's pick, short and white.
He had it up over my hips before I got my boots off.
His mouth left mine and went to my shoulder, my collarbone, the top of the dress.
I grabbed his hand, the one with my father's ring on it, and bit his thumb.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes dark under those heavy brows.
"Patience," I said.
He raised an eyebrow.
"You pulled me onto the bed."
"I know. I'm not sorry."
I pushed him onto his back.
It took a second, he's big, but he let me.
Then I was the one over him, one knee on either side, my boots hanging off the end of the bed.
He laughed, low, his hands finding my hips.
"The dress stays on," I said.
"For now."
I leaned down and kissed him, slow this time, and I could feel how hard he was already, pressing up against me through his trousers.
I liked it.
I liked that he was already there, already mine, already hard from nothing but the door and the bed and me.
I sat up and worked my boots off, one after the other, and let them thud on the floor.
Then my hands went to his belt.
"This is the part where you take what you want," he said.
I looked at him.
"What I want is for you to lie there and let me."
His jaw tightened.
"Then do it."
I got his belt open, his trousers open.
I pulled his cock out, and I let myself look at it.
He was thick, hard, the head already wet.
I wrapped my hand around him and squeezed.
He made a sound, low in his chest, and his hips came up off the bed.
"Rox."
"What?"
"Stop teasing."
"I'm not teasing. I'm deciding."
I stroked him once, slow, from base to tip.
He made that sound again.
"Decide faster."
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