No Regrets (The Ferrari Family Book 2) Read online

  “Wait, what?”

  That seemed impossible. How had he not approved me? How had whoever had gotten me not had me vetted by Brett?

  “Yeah, I wanted to come in with as clean a slate as possible,” he said. “I figured that if I knew what you looked like or who you were, I could make my own assumptions beforehand that might hurt things. I did this to appease my grandparents, yes, but I also hoped that there could be something more to it. That you got entangled as you did was never my intent, not to hurt you like this.”

  I liked this Brett. He was kind and sweet.

  “I guess sometimes, my mouth gets the better of me,” he said. “Sometimes, I say things that I think are funny but that aren’t really. They’re just...I don’t know. I guess you could call them leftovers of the time when I just wanted to hook up with everything in sight? Whatever. Point is, Chelsea, I understand what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, but I just hope you recognize that I did this not with the intent to troll or mock you, but with the intent of making it serious.”

  Damn…

  “I’ll see if I can get you out of this, but for now, can you just keep coming to the winery?” he asked. “It’s going to create far less confusion if you can just stick it out while we figure out what can be done rather than dropping everything and leaving.”

  I supposed that was a fair deal. I was getting paid for the work, too, so it wasn’t like I was his assistant for free.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Thank you, Brett.”

  But Brett did not respond. It seemed the conversation had sapped him of his strength.

  He stood up, and I followed him to the front door. I couldn’t help but wonder—if this Brett Ferrari had been there the whole time, if this Brett had been the one to take me out to dinner and then drinks, would I be trying to quit right now? Or would there maybe be something more to it?

  Brett didn’t say a word. He had that defeated walk—the walk every man had upon being told no by someone...someone they cared about. You don’t need further proof. He is serious.

  I paused at the front door. I had extended my right foot ever so slightly to slide my shoe on, but now, I found myself looking at Brett. Not as the man that I had secretly been locked to. Not at the man who sometimes said things too cute for his own good.

  But as the guy I’d developed a genuine attraction to at the bar. The guy I had kissed and wanted to at the lounge. The guy…

  The guy who could hurt me so badly, and yet, if I let him, also give me so much...joy.

  “Brett…” I said.

  Downcast moments before, Brett looked up to me, caution in his eyes. I felt…

  I didn’t know what I felt. I’d found myself locked into a moment that took my mind out of itself. Whatever happened next was bound to either be the best decision of my life or the dumbest, but I felt almost guided by fate to do what happened next.

  I walked up to him, my hands naturally falling to his wrists. I looked up into those eyes, the eyes not of a player, not of a charmer, but of a man who adopted those characters to avoid getting hurt. He looked back at me, into the eyes of a woman who had never known what it was like to be pursued until recently and was on guard otherwise.

  We both had our reasons for raising our defenses.

  But tonight, we’d let them down. And it had felt wonderful.

  I raised up on my toes. He bent down from the waist. Our eyes closed.

  And our lips locked in a kiss.

  Chapter 17: Brett

  The kiss felt frozen in time, the kind of thing that I was both experiencing and looking back on simultaneously. I knew without “knowing” that I would never forget this moment; I knew without thinking about it that this was real. This was...what I’d tried to avoid for so long.

  Maybe it would come back to bite me in the ass. Maybe Chelsea would hurt me horribly at some point, leaving me wallowing in pity and trying to fuck everything in sight to overcome that rejection.

  Or, maybe, I had gotten the luckiest break in the world and started developing something real for someone in the most artificial of relationship setups.

  I pulled her body closer to mine as I kissed her, and Chelsea’s hands ran up and down my back. At any moment, I knew that if I wanted to, I could have pushed for things to go further. My hands were already on her backside, and she was already giving gentle murmurs. I had to admit, part of me was a little hesitant to; I didn’t want to have just had this great conversation and then seemingly undermined everything I had said by trying to have sex with her.

  But then Chelsea’s hands went under my shirt and started to feel my skin. Her hands didn’t go under my shorts, but it felt like the kind of cue that I could go forward. So I returned the favor, letting my hands run underneath the back of her bra. Even this relatively benign action, one not especially heavy with sexual tension, developed some moans against me.

  I may have tried to avoid being a player, but that didn’t make me asexual. I was getting too fucking aroused to keep my hands away from certain areas much longer. If this kept up…

  Fuck it.

  I let my hands slide under her jeans and grab her ass. I squeezed. She intensified her kiss, prying open my mouth with her tongue. Our tongues danced as our hands started to grab at each other’s bodies, feeling up each other. We didn’t quite get to the groin, but I started to run my hands over her breasts, and at one point, when I kissed her neck, I thought that she was going to lose her mind and strip me down right there by the front door.

  “God, Brett…” she said, her voice so breathless and airy, I could barely hear it.

  Her hands were lifting at the bottom of my shirt, scratching and clawing at that area of skin just between the belly button and the groin. I was so hard, I could have just burst through my jeans and gone for her right there. I wanted to.

  The only thing holding me back was the fear that, at any second, Chelsea might change her mind. It had already happened a couple of times, and perhaps justifiably so. But I refused to let any—

  “Take me, Brett,” she whispered with hot breath into my ear. “Fucking take me.”

  Well, that answers that.

  I put one more hard kiss on her neck, grabbed her hand, and all but dragged her to my bedroom. I’d waited for this moment since the instant I saw her closing her shop a few weeks ago; now that it was finally presented to me, I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass this up.

  When we got to the bed, we went to work feeling up each other; her hand went to the outside of my groin, and mine went under her bra, unclasping it under her shirt, and then lifting her shirt up so I could suckle on her breasts. She pushed her body into mine, her hands wrapped around my neck, and a quiet gasp came.

  “Brett…”

  She was on the quieter side, but that just meant every time I did elicit a reaction of some kind, it made it all the hotter. It also made it kind of a game to figure out where she was most sensitive—not every part of her body brought out the same kind of quivering and trembling. But when it did, I ferociously pounced on that spot and milked it for all it was worth.

  Her hand, meanwhile, found the outline of my cock on my jeans and was rubbing up against it. She was still not quite to the level of aggression I was, but she was most certainly into the moment.

  I got her shirt off in full, unbuttoned her jeans, and tugged them to the floor. She lifted my shirt up as well, and I helped her take it off.

  “Wow,” she said. “I knew you had a good body, but damn.”

  I had to laugh at that. Had she thought I was just average in my looks? Either way, I took the compliment.

  I carried her to my bed, laying her on her back. I landed a series of kisses on her lips, on her collarbone, on her breasts, and on her belly button, all spots that I had found or soon found to be extraordinarily sensitive for her. Every kiss caused her to shudder or moan in that sexy voice of hers. All the while, my hands went down to her underwear, wrapped around, and…

  I looked up at her.
/>   “How bad do you want this?” I asked.

  “Don’t you dare make me wait,” she said.

  I laughed, but she was dead serious. She wanted me that bad that it was no longer a game. Good enough—serious could feel fucking great too.

  I tugged off her panties, seeing a clean-shaven strip. Maybe she always kept it that way, but I preferred to think that even as recently as Friday afternoon, before the argument that separated us for a bit, she had thought this was going to happen. There was certainly enough tension for it to have.

  Still, for everything we’d gone through to get this far…

  But that train of thought would have to wait post-coitus. For now, I kissed the inside of her right thigh, made my way down, rested on the bed, and licked her clit.

  And then tongued her.

  And then ate her out, refusing to stop for so much as a breath of air. I could breathe just fine down there, even if there were moments when she pressed her hips into my face and made it difficult. I had one goal and one goal only—to make Chelsea Polozzi come because of me.

  When I set a goal like that, I did not fail.

  Just as it had with the kisses, she started out slowly, like a car in the dead of winter that needed some time to be warmed up. Her body reacted positively, from the way her thighs squeezed my hand to how her hands rubbed through my hair, but all in all, she was relatively silent, save for the occasional “ohh.”

  After a couple of minutes, though, her body started to shake almost in rhythm with my tongue, and this was what got Chelsea to start moaning more. Now, instead of just a gentle moan every ten seconds or so, she was gasping for air, writhing in pleasure, and trying to find the space just to say my name, let alone moan. I was so rock hard from this, I could have just sat up and gone straight into her, but she had to come first.

  It wasn’t a hard-and-fast rule, but I liked Chelsea beyond just the whole arranged marriage thing. I really, truly liked her. And for that reason, she would come first, no matter how long I was down there.

  Luckily, Chelsea was not someone who would never come from oral; in fact, I could feel her clit swelling such that it soon seemed inevitable. Her thighs tightened their grip around me, her hands went from running through my hair to clinging onto it, and her head tilted back in pleasure.

  “Fuck, Brett, I’m so close,” she said.

  I took my hands, which had been gently resting on her body, and cupped them under her ass and squeezed. I gave her everything I had with my tongue; I was getting a little tired, and I knew it would feel heavy the next day, but I didn’t care. I was in the home stretch, and it was time to sprint to the finish line.

  “Oh, yes, don’t stop, oh, don’t fucking stop.”

  I just closed my eyes and focused on nothing but Chelsea’s body. The fast, darting dashes of my tongue had seemed to do the trick, so I did that with forceful pressure at the end. It was working. It was getting her to…

  “Oh!” she said with a loud exhale.

  Her thighs tightened so hard I just told myself to endure it. Her hips arched against my face. I kept pushing my tongue onto her. She was coming, but she was far from done with the orgasm. It was not a moment, but an experience, and I was going to push it as long as I could.

  I was honestly running out of breath, but I would have passed out on Chelsea if that was what it took to ride out her orgasm as long and as far as I could. I just kept my eyes shut and moved only my tongue.

  Finally, Chelsea held my head back and pushed her hips away, and I moved back as Chelsea rolled over to the side, gasping for air. I had to admit, the sight of her naked body, having just climaxed because of my tongue, was a pretty big source of pride. At first, it felt like the pride of a conquest, but that feeling actually shifted pretty quickly to a sort of odd gratitude—gratitude that, somehow, this whole thing, which should have been nothing more than an elaborate stage act for the rest of the family, had turned into something real where we could actually want each other.

  “Oh my God,” she said breathlessly. “That’s not fair how good that felt.”

  I just chuckled but let Chelsea have her moment. My actions could speak for themselves; I didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying anything stupid.

  “I guess it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

  Now that, I could certainly get behind. Chelsea rolled over, sat up slowly, a relaxed and utterly peaceful grin on her face before she pulled me in close for a kiss. Her hand went inside my jeans, reaching for my throbbing cock. When she felt it, a moan escaped her lips, and then a short giggle.

  “What?” I said, knowing I would probably like the answer.

  “Feeling you has me excited all over again,” she said. “Now lie down and help me get those jeans off.”

  I didn’t need to be asked twice. I fell on my back, unbuckled my jeans, and kicked them and my boxers down. Chelsea’s hand went on my dick, gently stroking it at first, as she looked me in the eye.

  “You are going to be so bad for me,” she said. “How am I ever going to work at the office knowing this is what I’ll be experiencing every night?”

  Every night?

  OK, this is officially the best makeup sex ever. Or, whatever you want to call it, it’s still fucking great.

  “You think it’ll be hard on you?” I shot back, although words were kind of hard to come by when one’s cock was being massaged. “How do you think I’ll feel?”

  “Aw, I guess we’ll both have to struggle to make it through,” Chelsea said before she swallowed my cock.

  I couldn’t see anything with her flowing hair blocking my view, but in some ways, that just made the tingling feeling that much hotter. I couldn’t know what was coming, and everything she did, every bob, every slurp, every dash of the tongue...oh, holy fuck. I wasn’t a quick comer, but the way Chelsea was working me and how this night had gone so far…

  “How the fuck…”

  Chelsea just murmured a laugh, the very vibration causing me to feel that much better. God, Chelsea was incredible. God, she was fucking beautiful.

  I just tilted my head back and did my best to relax, though such an act was really damn near impossible with the way that she was working me. I kind of wanted to ask for sex, but on the other hand, this felt so good, why rush something that felt this damn good? There was no reason to.

  Though Chelsea didn’t immediately get me to the point of “no return,” she came awfully close, to the point that I wondered if she should just keep pushing. But just when I feared that that point would come, she came up for air, looked me right in the eye, and grinned her most wicked grin yet.

  “I can’t hold off any longer,” she said. “I need you inside of me.”

  Hey, who was I to argue?

  Out of habit, I reached for my desk drawer for a condom, but Chelsea either didn’t notice or she didn’t care. She straddled me, running her clit on the shaft of my cock. Half of me wondered if this was her way of waiting, and the other half said to just stop and enjoy it.

  I chose to stop and enjoy it. Whether or not Chelsea took that as a cue for her to keep going, I couldn’t say. The only thing I could say was that in an almost instant, Chelsea had pushed me inside of her raw.

  I would, had I not been in the moment, have debated if this was smart or not. On the one hand, she was going to be my wife, so it wasn’t like we had to worry about the other sleeping with other people or getting knocked up. On the other hand, this was a marriage that would end the instant we could. On the other hand…

  But none of those thoughts came. You know why? Because when I was inside of Chelsea, raw, looking at her stunningly hot naked body, feeling the pleasure of her warm, wet pussy around my throbbing cock, there was no room for actual thought. It was just pleasure overwhelming the mind.

  “Fuck, Chelsea…” I murmured as she leaned forward, kissing me on the lips, as we both gently and slowly pushed into each other, our mutual motion accentuating the high of the feeling.

  “Brett…�
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  Our bodies moved as one into each other, less two people making love to each other and more just one incredibly pleasurable sexual moment. I felt absorbed into Chelsea’s body, not just because I was inside of her, but because it felt like we had a natural chemistry and rhythm here that I just didn’t get to feel very often.

  She sat up, giving me a full view of her body, and it was like looking at a work of art. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was grinding on me, her juices lubricating her, but looking at her breasts and her face was more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in my life.

  “Wow, you…”

  I cut myself off before I said anything stupid. I was still a little sensitive about opening my mouth and speaking without thinking.

  Fortunately, Chelsea was where I was before—so absorbed into the moment that she couldn’t think about what I had said in very much depth.

  We flipped over to her being beneath me, and this was the position that most easily made me climax. There was something about being in control, of placing my face by her neck, making it easier for me to hear all of her dirty talk...

  And Chelsea did not disappoint. As I slid as hard and deep as I could, she kept encouraging me, telling me she wanted me to come so bad. Was that...was that actually going to happen? In her?

  Then it hit.

  That feeling of extreme tension, the forewarning that an orgasm was impending within a matter of seconds.

  “Oh, fuck, I’m so close, baby,” I said.

  “Keep going, come in me, let me feel your come,” she said, kissing my neck.

  Oh, that was like throwing fucking oil on an already raging fire. Her kisses on my neck made the tension, the load in my cock, jump half the way forward, right to it being at the tip. I was barely able to contain myself. Too late now.

  I burst.

  “Ah!”

  My hands clenched down tight against her body. All my weight pushed into her as my cock exploded with cum inside of her. I gasped and moaned. I writhed. I quivered.