Jacob
The guilty expression on Brenna’s face fills me with satisfaction. I told her that where she went, Giovanni went as well. Yet, here she sits without a care in the world. Of course I’m fucking pissed. It’s not only that, though. The fear I’d felt when Gio called me and said my wife wasn’t at our townhouse still has its claws entrenched in my gut.
“I thought your name was Emilio?” Brenna’s sister’s confused gaze bounces between us.
“Caitlín,” her mother admonishes.
“What?” the young girl asks.
My mother- and father-in-law step past me and usher her off the couch and out of the room, leaving me alone with my wife, who’s risen from her seat as well.
“Seriously, what’s with the name?” Caitlín’s voice fades as they move farther away.
We stand there staring at each other, while I try to quell my anger. Brenna brazenly holds her ground. Finally, I break the silence.
“I thought we had an agreement.”
“About what?”
“About Giovanni accompanying you if you chose to leave the townhouse,” I reply.
Her cheeks go flush. “I didn’t want to bother him just to come see my family.”
“You having an escort is non-negotiable. We discussed this. I don’t care if you only travel a block away from our home. If you leave the house, you will have Gio escort you.” I wouldn’t budge on that. Especially not after the intel I got this morning before I was called away to chase after my disobedient wife.
A mulish expression crosses her face. It’s time to teach my wife a lesson. I close the distance between us. Pride sparks in me that Brenna holds her ground. The moment I reach her, my fingers spear her hair and curl into a loose fist before I pull her head back. My mouth crashes down on hers in a punishing kiss. It’s my only alternative, aside from placing her over my knee. My cock rises at the picture forming in my mind.
Knowing she’s safe releases all the pent up fear I’d been holding onto. I lash at her tongue, deepening the kiss. Teeth scrape, and the tinge of blood hits my taste buds. The sting of Brenna’s nails digging into my lower back hardens my cock even further. Her hands are under my jacket and clutching me tight.
I slide my leg between hers pressing my thigh against her pussy. I increase the pressure, and her gasp turns into a moan. My fist grips her hip, and I pull her into me, generating friction against her clit. She whimpers against my mouth. Those hard, pebbled nipples poke into my chest.
The bruising kiss goes on. Brenna continues grinding against my leg, my hand on her hip, guiding her unpracticed movements. I swallow every mewling sound she makes. She presses herself harder, chasing the ecstasy at the end of the ride, until at last her muscles tighten and her body trembles with her release. My mouth smothers her cry.
Tiny shudders continue to rack her body as she gently rolls her hips. Finally, they slow and she sags against me, spent. Her arms stay wrapped around my waist, and I continue holding her up.
Brenna’s green eyes are glassy and unfocused when she finally comes to her senses. Her lips are bruised. The tender skin along her cheeks and mouth are lightly scratched from the hard bristles gracing my jaw. Her red hair is tousled and wild from my fingers. She looks thoroughly debauched. I step back, steadying her, and adjust my raging hard on behind my zipper.
“Just so you know,” Brenna rasps out. “You don’t present a very good case for me to not ditch my bodyguard again.”
I blink at her words, and then throw my head back in laughter. When was the last time someone made me laugh like this? Never. Once I get myself under control, I cross my arms and stare down at my unpredictable and highly entertaining wife.
“Let’s say that if you don’t ditch your bodyguard, you’ll get a repeat performance of that. Many, many repeat performances. Plus the second act,” I emphasize.
She clears her throat. “You certainly drive a hard bargain.”
I lower my voice seductively. “You have no idea how hard.”
Brenna’s gaze drops to my erection straining to be freed. Her eyes widen before she quickly raises them back to my face. The pink climbing up her neck and cheeks is adorable.
“Yes, well.” She smooths her hair in a nervous gesture.
I bite back my smile, but I turn serious. “I know the order may chafe, so this time I’m asking. Please do not leave the townhouse to go anywhere, unless Giovanni is with you.” Like my father, I’m not one for pleading. However, if it means ensuring Brenna’s safety, I will.
Brenna focuses intently on me, her head cocked just a bit like she’s studying me. She must see something on my face, because she closes the distance between us and palms both my cheeks, staring up at me with a soft expression.
“If it means that much to you, I promise to always take Gio with me wherever I go.”
I cover her hands with mine and gently squeeze them. “Thank you.”
If pleading is hard, apologizing is even more so. “I’m also sorry about this morning,” I say.
“For which part?” Brenna asks.
Releasing her, I move a pace away and run my hands over my face. Why does she have to question that? “I don’t know.”
“That’s not much of an apology then.”
My eyes dart to hers, and a small smile plays on her lips. I find myself responding.
“I’m not sorry for thinking about you while I stroked my cock in the shower.” I close the short distance between us, and her breath quickens. “I’m not sorry I kissed you.”
Pulling her to me, her hands go to my chest to steady herself. Those brilliant emerald eyes of hers stare up at me with a flash of arousal. My expression turns serious again. “I’m sorry I left without an explanation. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
Brenna scans my face. There’s an awareness between us, but she stares at me thoughtfully.
“Are you both still alive in there?” A disembodied voice interrupts.
My wife sighs and steps away from me with a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you, runt, but no one killed anyone.”
Caitlín comes out from around the corner, an impish grin on her face. Thank god she didn’t arrive a few minutes earlier. Although based on the pink in her cheeks and the way she avoids either of our eyes, I think maybe she saw, or heard, more than she should have.
“So,” she says, finally looking at me. “Tell me about this name thing. Jacob doesn’t seem very Italian.”
Brenna groans. “Must you always be so rude and nosy?”
“Yes, actually,” Caitlín replies with no hesitation, and I chuckle. The girl has balls, I’ll give her that.
“I was named after my mother’s grandfather. Giacobbe Alfio Cantore. She loved the American spelling, so I became Emilio Jacob Ricci.”
“Why don’t you go by Emilio? That sounds more like the name of a mafia boss,” she says.
“For crying out loud.” Brenna throws her hands over her face.
“Technically, I do, although very few people call me anything besides Mr. Ricci. Does that sound enough like a mobster to please you?”
“About as much as Donnelly does, I suppose. Too bad you aren’t related to Al Capone. Now that would make you sound like a true mafia boss. Do you mind if I call you Emilio?” Caitlín barely pauses for breath. “I want to tell my friends I’m on a first-name basis with the bad-ass leader of the Italian syndicate who married my sister, and well, to be honest, Jacob just doesn’t have the same ring to it. No offense or anything.”
I stare at this young girl, my brain trying to keep up with her conversation. I don’t envy whatever man she ends up with. She is going to lead someone on a merry chase. In the meantime, my wife has completely removed herself from the conversation and is leaned back in the couch with a forearm covering her eyes.
Finally, I find my voice. “Emilio is fine. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time Brenna and I head home.”
The woman in question quickly rises from the sofa, as though more than ready to leave. “Tell Mother and Da I said goodbye, and I’ll give them a call in the next couple days.”
She hugs her sister, and I guide her down the hall and out the front door to where the car waits. Once we’re in the back seat, she turns to me. “Caitlín sometimes forgets personal boundaries. Especially when it comes to family members, which she considers you to be due to our marriage. To her she’s just gained another brother to torment.”
I can’t help but grin, which fades. “Pierce is the closest thing I have to a brother, but our relationship was never one filled with levity and games. It’s been filled with duty, loyalty, and violence. Your sister is actually a breath of fresh air in this world we live in. I certainly don’t envy your parents though.”
Brenna groans. “She’s a handful, to say the least. Although, there are times I wish I were more like her.”
I reach out to take her hand. “I don’t. I wouldn’t want you to change a single thing about yourself.”