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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Dasha

The last thing I wanted to do around a guy who I was crazy attracted to was ugly snot cry on their fancy suit. Or, you know, bleed all over him.

But, well, he was too good of a guy to just let me sit there and cry by myself.

The problem was I’d been too upset to really enjoy being held. Though, from the sound of things, Santo wanted me to stay the night. So maybe there would be time for some more snuggling.

Santo turned off into a part of Navesink Bank I hadn’t even visited before. As the cute little starter homes morphed into elegant mini-mansions, I understood why none of my business ever brought me over that way.

Santo’s house was on a street full of many different house styles—from an old, well-maintained Queen Anne on the corner to several Colonials and Georgians.

I wasn’t exactly sure what style Santo’s house was, but it was a two-story white stone structure with an overhanging front porch, black-framed windows, a black roof, and a ton of lovely land and hardscape out front.

Knowing what I knew about the absurd house prices in town, I had to imagine that this place set Santo back around a million.

“Wow,” I said as he pulled up the stone driveway. “Is this a new build?”

“New? No. But it was completely gutted and redone before I bought it. I think they did a lot to the outside too.”

“If it’s not too invasive to ask, why such a big house?”

“One day, I plan to have a wife and a bunch of kids in it. What?” he asked, making me realize I was staring at him.

“It’s refreshing to hear a guy talk about wanting those things with so much certainty.”

“Definitely one day. But tonight, I want to get you inside and get you cleaned up and cuddled on the couch with something cool to drink.”

I’d told him before that my throat wasn’t too bad, but with each passing moment, it seemed to hurt more and more to swallow. Kind of like when you have strep throat, where it gets more and more raw feeling, making you not want to eat. Or even swallow your own saliva.

Santo was out of the car and at my door before I could even get myself unbuckled. His hand went to the small of my back as he led me up the winding front path of his house, stopping us for just a second outside of a curved black wood front door so he could slip the key into the lock.

I didn’t expect much decor as we moved inside, but Santo hadn’t been lying when he said he’d been working on the house.

The foyer was dominated by a staircase, a black chandelier, and gleaming dark wood floors that stretched on toward the back of the house.

To the right of the front door was the living room that was dominated by a massive wooden table with turned legs and cushioned chairs.

No, he didn’t have anything on the table, a sideboard, cabinets, window treatments, or a carpet. But, hey, it was better than an empty room.

Besides, the table and the rounded picture window were always going to be the focal point of the room.

To the left of the front door was the living room that featured, of course, the green velvet couch we’d picked out. It faced a white marble and wood fireplace with a framed TV over it.

“You got end tables!”

“I did. They need lamps. And I need… the… window… blankets…”

“Curtains,” I said, smiling over at him. “You mean curtains.”

“Yeah, that’s them,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

“How about I take you upstairs to clean you up before I give you the rest of the tour?”

“Okay,” I agreed as he led me up the steps.

From the looks of things as we passed, the upstairs featured four bedrooms and a full hallway bathroom.

And then, of course, the primary room Santo led me into.

I honestly would have been impressed if he had a headboard and a full bedding set.

I’d been underestimating him, though.

His bedroom was finished in a way that none of the lower-level rooms were. It was dominated by a king-size bed with a rich dark wood head and footboard, with some sort of backlighting behind it that made it glow. The bed was neatly made and featured extra pillows, a thick, dark gray linen duvet, and even an extra accent blanket at the foot.

There were nightstands with brass lamps and dark shades.

Across from the bed was a dresser with another framed TV attached to the wall above it.

Everything about the room was deep and sexy, just begging you to slip out of your clothes and get lost in someone for hours.

“This is really nice,” I told him, meaning it. “If you did this, I have all the faith in you finishing the rest of the house.”

“I can’t take all the credit; my cousin Smush circled it in a magazine and left it on the kitchen counter.”

“Smush?” I asked as Santo led me into the bathroom that featured a mix of black and white marble, a floating sink cabinet, a soaking tub, and a shower niche that could comfortably fit four.

“Don’t ever tell her you heard me call her that,” he said, giving me a grave look as he closed the toilet seat and pressed me down onto it.

“Is it a nickname she hates?”

“Hates might be an understatement. When Sofia was a baby, she was, well, extremely pudgy. And her mom used to say she was such a little smush. It… stuck. Much to Sofia’s chagrin.”

“How pudgy was she?”

“Remember that marshmallow guy from Ghostbusters ?”

There was no stopping the little laugh that escaped me as Santo drew a plastic container full of medical supplies.

“So, you’re close with Sofia?” I asked, not letting myself think of her as the nickname that made her so uncomfortable. It had taken me a long time to accept and love my body after some kids in school had some nasty things to tease me about. I didn’t want to contribute to any self-esteem issues Sofia might be dealing with.

“Yeah, all the cousins are tight. But she also works for me.”

“How?” I watched as Santo wet some gauze with a little pink tube of what I imagined was wound wash or saline.

“Smush started a business where she runs errands for the guys in the family. Makes sure we never run out of food or supplies, picks up dry cleaning, that sort of thing. She’s moved beyond just the family now, but she still works for a bunch of us.”

“That’s a neat little business model. She must be very good at organization and inventory.”

“She knows I’m almost out of toothpaste before I do,” Santo said. “Okay. Tell me if I’m hurting you too much,” he said as he tilted my chin up. “But fair warning: it isn’t going to be pleasant.”

With that, he started to dab at the dried blood on my upper lip and under my nose. The second the gauze touched my nostrils, though, the pain coursed through my nose and icepicked into my brain.

“I know, baby. I’m trying to be quick.”

To his credit, he had very skilled—and quick—hands. By the time he was done with my nose, though, my eyes had started to water again.

“That’s the worst of it.” He tossed the bloody gauze into the trash, then went to wet some more. “This part is just clean-up.”

With that, he wiped under my jaw, my neck, and—lastly—my chest.

It was completely inappropriate, given the situation, but I felt a small sizzle of desire sparking through my system.

It was over before I could really enjoy the sensations, though, and then Santo was moving on to clean my skinned and bloody palms.

“Do you want to get it over with and tell me about it now, or wait until later?”

I wanted to purge it, get it out, give it to him. Then, maybe, I could stop thinking so much about it myself.

“I stayed late to buff the floors.” Looking down, I watched the top of his head as I spoke, trying to ignore the bite of pain in my hands as he picked little bits of dirt and who-knew-what out of the cuts there. “I’d just finished the bathroom and went back to my office to fix my makeup and grab my purse. I was heading over here.

“But when I went to open the door to my office, it shoved forward into me. Twice. The second time it happened, it hit my nose.”

“Did he say anything?”

“No. Nothing. Not even when I was running and he was chasing me. He laughed once, though.”

“Laughed at what?”

“Me trying to get away.” My belly twisted at the memory.

That little angry growl escaped him. But he managed to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Did you recognize the laugh?”

“No.”

“And you didn’t see him?” he asked, gaze flicking up to mine, stealing every thought from my mind for a moment.

“None of the lights were on. And he had a hood pulled up and cinched. And, well, I was running away from him most of the time.”

“Was there anything else that was familiar? Smells? Tattoos? Jewelry?”

“I didn’t see any jewelry or tattoos. The only smells I remember were of the garage itself. And the soap I was using to clean the floors with, I guess.” I could still smell that pine all over me—likely thanks to rolling around on the waiting room floor.

Santo paused, hands resting on my dirty, bruised knees. “I gotta ask… you were hit and chased and choked… did anything else happen? Should I stop wiping away potential DNA evidence?”

“It was… you know… heading in that direction.” My stomach flipped at the memory of my skirt hiking up, at what I knew was about to happen to me. “But that was when I managed to get into the bathroom. After that, he left.”

“Okay,” Santo said, squeezing my thighs before starting to clean my knees and shins. “Did you get any good blows in? Would he be sporting any injuries tomorrow?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“How long does it hurt to get kicked as hard as possible in the balls?”

A surprised little laugh escaped Santo at that. “I don’t think I’ve been kicked in the balls since I was a kid. But I will keep that in mind.”

“I also clawed at his hands, but I don’t know if I actually scratched him or just, like, pried at his hands.”

“Good for you. You fought like hell tonight.”

“What do I do now?” I asked.

“You let me handle it.”

“But… but what about work?”

“You’re the boss. You can take as much time off as you want. Or you can go in, see if anyone looks at you funny, or if anything about those guys sparks a memory.”

“You think it’s someone from the shop?”

“I think it’s worth looking into first. But I’m not writing off random crime either. Maybe someone saw you in there, got some evil ideas, and came in to act on them. Or maybe even some idiot thought there might be cash or something valuable around here. I’m keeping an open mind.

“One thing I am going to suggest, though, is putting some cameras up. At least in your office and the reception area. I know some employees can get squirrely at the idea of cameras in their spaces, so I don’t know if I would do that right away. But you need something around there.”

“I’m not going to object to that.” Though I was going to need to figure out how to pay for them.

“I will have someone swing by tomorrow morning and get them installed before the shop opens.”

“I will give you my card—“ I started, deciding I could eat ramen for the next week.

“No. It’s… all part of the protection deal.” There was something, I don’t know, off in his tone. But he went on before I could figure it out. “I’m also going to heavily suggest you start carrying some sort of self-defense.”

“Like pepper spray?”

“Always a good start, yeah. Maybe an eye gouger, extendable baton, and a pocketknife. Though, I’m a firm believer in handguns if you feel comfortable with the idea. You can give that thought, though.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’m definitely okay with all the other ones, but I don’t know about the gun yet. I’ve never even held one.”

“Well, we can work on that, if you’re interested. But that’s not something to worry about tonight. Do you want me to run you a bath?” he asked, waving down at my arms and legs, still covered in dirt and grease. “I’m gonna say no showers until we’re sure your head is okay.”

“A bath sounds nice.”

“No one has ever used that tub.” He stood, cleaning up the rest of his supplies before tucking the plastic container back in the closet.

“That’s a crime.” My gaze moved over the oversized soaking tub—deep enough to keep your whole body submerged under the water at the same time. That was a luxury I’d never experienced before.

“I think the real estate agent left me some… yep,” he said, coming back with a bottle of soap and a bath bomb. “She left me a basket in here. It had a bunch of bath stuff in it. I shoved it all in the closet, figuring someone would use it someday. How do you feel about lavender?”

“I like it much better than the pine smell all over me.”

“I like it a lot less than that honeysuckle that is usually clinging to your skin.”

Again, another spark of desire ignited.

But then he was running the water, stopping the tub, then dropping in the soap and bomb, making little purple ribbons spread across the top of the water.

“Come here,” Santo demanded, voice soft.

My heart fluttered as I made my way across the room. His eyes were soft as he reached to turn me, finding my zipper, and lowering it down slowly. The cool air kissed my skin, making a shiver move through me as he pushed the straps off my shoulders.

He needed to reach to pull the clinging material off of my breasts, but then the light material was fluttering to the ground.

Santo leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to my shoulder that made my sex clench hard.

He reached between us, unclasping my strapless bra, and letting that fall to the floor as well.

His arms slid around my belly, pulling me back against him, his face buried in my neck.

“Really fucking glad you’re okay,” he murmured, his breath warm on my skin. “Felt my heart stop when I heard the panic in your voice on the phone.” His arms pulled me tighter as I lifted my own arm to wrap around the back of his neck. “I’m glad you called me.”

“Me too.” My voice was low and breathless as the sweetness in that moment only managed to make my desire rise. There was nothing sexual about the way he was holding me so gently, about his chaste hand placement. “The police wouldn’t hold me like this,” I added, loving the way his laugh vibrated against me.

“Gonna put this out there. I’m kinda hoping I get to be the only one to hold you this way.”

Clear and open communication? How refreshing.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Sure?” he asked, his fingers teasing up ever so slightly, the tips teasing under the swells of my breast.

A little shiver moved through me.

“Positive.”

Santo’s hands moved down my belly, snagging my panties, and pressing them down.

“Bath’s ready,” he told me then, releasing me to turn off the water.

The disappointment was immediate and overwhelming, leaving me standing there with an ache between my thighs.

He offered me his hand, and I had no choice but to let him help me into the tub.

I sank down under the water, feeling it immediately chasing away the lingering aches in my body.

Santo stood there looking down at me as I sighed, making my breasts surface from the water.

The sound that escaped me went right between my legs.

Then he was lowering down to his knees and reaching to roll up his sleeves.

Before he even touched me, I knew his intention, and the desire surged through me, making me need to press my thighs together to ease the growing ache.

Santo’s arm slid over the porcelain, his fingertips teasing over the swells of my breasts, working little circles around my nipples, making them twist into needy points. That rumble sound moved through him as his thumb and forefinger rolled one of my nipples, making me arch up into the touch.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers moving to my other nipple. “And so sensitive,” he went on as a little whimper escaped me. “I could stop,” he offered, fingers sliding under my breasts, over my belly. “Or I can see if I can make you feel better.”

I wasn’t capable of words right then.

So I pulled my legs up and let them fall open for him.

That rumbling sound moved through him again as his hand slid over my tummy, then pressed between my thighs.

There was no quieting the moan that escaped me as his fingers found my clit, moving over it in whisper-soft circles that had my hips rocking and my hands grabbing the sides of the tub.

“No,” Santo said, shaking his head a bit. “Touch yourself for me,” he demanded.

As I writhed, the water teased over my breasts, the sensual touch making it easier for my hands to slip up, to close over the swells, to squeeze.

The sound Santo made urged me on.

His fingers slid inside me as mine started to tease around my nipples.

His thrusts were slow, lazy, frustrating .

“You want it faster?” he asked as my hips rocked and my thighs squeezed around his hand.

“Yes.”

His fingers moved harder, faster, as his thumb pressed more firmly against my clit, making my little mewling sounds become ragged, needy moans as he drove me closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” Santo murmured as his fingers fucked me harder. “Come on, let me feel your pussy squeeze my fingers as you come.”

It only took another couple of thrusts before that was exactly what was happening, making my legs shoot out and some water slosh out of the tub as my back arched and my moans filled the tiled room.

I fell back afterward as Santo’s hand slid out of the water. He pressed his fingers into his mouth, tasting me.

Before I could even think clearly again, he was moving away to get a towel to mop up the water.

“You relax. I will leave some clothes on the bed. Come on down when you’re ready. I’m gonna get you something to eat.”

With that, he left me alone, still buzzing from the orgasm as I let myself just soak some of the tension away.

When the water grew cool, I scrubbed myself fully clean, then rinsed off as the tub drained.

When I dried off and made my way into Santo’s bedroom, I found he’d laid out a roomy, well-loved, emerald green shirt as well as a pair of lightweight black sleep pants.

Just getting dressed seemed to zap all of the energy I had left, but I forced myself to make my way out of the bedroom instead of curling up on the bed like I really wanted to.

I paused at the top landing, though, when I heard not just Santo’s voice but some other man’s voice as well.