Defending Pacer - Hamilton T. J. - Страница 34
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“Maybe she’s happy?” I question.
Pacer looks back at me for a moment before grinning. “Does she look happy to you?”
I shrug. “Maybe the kids just stress her out?”
“Always defending someone.” He shakes his head as he drops the boxes down next to the bar, in the large lounge area.
Just when I thought the house couldn’t be any more Italian … It looks as if every Italian designer has puked their entire fabric collection all over the furniture and carpet. I instantly recognise the patterns of Versace and Moschino on the cushions. A golden Versace circular floor rug sits in the centre of the room with a marble coffee table on top. More Versace medusa heads on vases and coffee table books on Italian designers are stacked around the coffee table. If Mrs Fratelli was keeping it all in theme, then I’m pretty certain the leopard print in the curtains and arm chairs would have to be Dolce & Gabbana.
“Ma likes Versace.” Pacer smiles.
“Couldn’t tell,” I joke.
He laughs too. I wonder what his house is like? If it’s anything like his treetop love-nest, then he does have some taste.
Holding his gloved finger to his mouth to shush me, Pacer takes my hand and leads me down the stairs to the lower level of the house. This level leads down to a boathouse and jetty. There are always two kinds of rich families in the city—those who live on hills and those who live on the water’s edge. I don’t know what it would be like to live on the water, but I could always tell the boys who came from harbour-side mansions. They drove boats. Boats are hot.
Pacer points to the boathouse down a pathway … and they have boathouses.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Pacer wiggles the latch of the boathouse door and it opens. We both grin at each other, like a couple of naughty schoolkids. Once inside, Pacer pushes me against the door as he closes it. Sliding his gloved hand under my sweater and shirt, he finds my already hard nipple in my bra. The coldness of the leather feels so sexy against my skin. I yearn to feel it against my clit. Unbuttoning my jeans, I push them down my thighs. Pacer’s wandering hands pause for a moment. His eyes meet mine and he smirks. His sex appeal and leather glove have me bamboozled. I turn into a super-charged sex fiend.
Running my fingers around the back of his hair, I pull him to me and kiss. We kiss hard, and we kiss hot. Taking Pacer’s hand that’s been merrily flicking at my nipple, I direct it down to my sodden underwear. The coldness of the leather hits my clit and my knees weaken. As he makes circles around it, the leather lightly catches against my skin, making me flinch from the delicious vibrations it fires off every time it happens.
The leather feels hard against my sex. I want that coldness inside me, before we have to stop. My squirming doesn’t go unnoticed, and his gloved finger squeaks its way inside me. I’ll never tire from the feeling I get every time the leather grabs at my skin. The juddering is like little earthquakes inside me. It’s an incredible feeling. He pulls his gloved finger out slowly, and a whimpering moan sizzles out of me.
The leather of his glove always feels foreign and hard compared to his naked finger. I love the feeling of it. I want it. He drives his gloved finger in and out of me, the leather rubbing against my skin again and again. I can feel my orgasm building, the deep pulsing forcing my legs to strain stiff and straight.
His leather catches against my clit and my knee quivers. Just one. That quiver spreads the next time I feel leather brush past my lips again. The leather is warm now, absorbing all my juices. His leather glove slides around my sex with lubricated ease. His presses his palm hard against my clit as his finger punishes me underneath with fast strokes. The eruption reaches its breaking point and I moan a little louder than intended.
“Shhhh.” He kisses me to muffle my involuntary sounds.
I kiss him back as the full force of my orgasm takes over. The heat from my body is trapped in my head and my face feels flushed.
He slows his finger and gently cups me, rubbing the gloves against the lips of my sex. My body trembles as I come down from the climax.
We grin at each other for a moment before I realise that he’s missed out on the pleasure. “Your turn?” My fingers find their way to the top of his pants.
“I got plenty out of that, don’t worry.” He grins through his words. “I love watching you squirm with pleasure.”
“Pleasure is an understatement. Those gloves are a direct link with the celestial.” My breath is still heavy as I speak.
We laugh together and Pacer slips his glove from my underwear. I re-button my jeans as he opens the door to the boathouse, and I wipe the beading across my brow. His nephew, who drove us to the seaplane, casually strolls down the jetty, smoking a cigarette.
“Mum and Nonna sent me to find you.” He looks completely unbothered by what he was about to walk in to, so hopefully he’s oblivious to it.
“Found us,” Pacer replies, lighting a cigarette. “Giorgie, you remember Chelsea.”
He nods. “How’s it going?”
Feeling a little flushed in the face, I try my best to hide it. “Good to see you again.”
“Are you ready for this?” I see a hint of a smirk.
Holding onto my hand, Pacer squeezes. “He’s just messing with you. Ma and Lucia are about the worst of it.”
Walking back up the sloping lawn, Lucia is placing small vases of flowers on top of the long trestle table. The twins run frantically around on the lawn next to her. The sound of voices inside is louder than before; there must be more of the family here.
“There you are. I just need a hand dressing the table.” I don’t know if she’s talking to me or Pacer, so I grab some wine glasses from the box on a chair just to be safe.
“I’ll go and help upstairs.” Pacer and Giorgie both head inside.
We decorate the long wooden table with posies of flowers, wine glasses and bottles of wine, lots of bottles of wine. The three huge antipasto platters are the beautiful centrepiece, giving a gorgeous rustic Italian feel to it all.
“So your Dad’s the judge, John Tanner?” I know exactly why Lucia’s asking me.
Not only did he sentence her Dad before he was murdered, but he put her husband behind bars when she was heavily pregnant with her second son. I know so many intimate details about this family, but try to act as unaware of it as much as I can.
I nod and try not to be fazed by her question. “Retired Judge.”
Lucia doesn’t look me in the eye. She doesn’t seem as approving of me as Pacer’s Mum.
“You’re not the first person to question why Pacer and I are together, and I’m sure you won’t be the last,” I add. “But I really like your brother.”
She nods. “He really likes you too. Being involved with this family isn’t going to be easy for you.”
“And being involved with my family isn’t going to be easy for you, either,” I fire back.
She looks up at me from across the table. “So your folks. They’re okay with you and Pacer, then?”
Her interrogation doesn’t waiver me. I shake my head, but offer a smile. “They were never going to be okay with it. I was prepared for that though. I was hoping your family weren’t going to be as sceptical.” I place the cutlery down on the table. “I’m risking a lot to be with Pacer. My family, career … everything. It could all blow up in my face.”
“Then why risk it?”
Is Lucia’s outlook on love jaded by her own experiences?
“Because. Love.” My whole face beams with an uncontrollable happiness at the thought of how in love I am with her brother, despite everything that’s being thrown at us.
Her smile matches mine and she giggles. “Ah, I’ve forgotten what that feels like.”
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