Married to the Bad Boy(46)

She reaches behind herself, smiling, and shuts off the water. “I don’t know yet.”

She’s either some kind of angel sent from Heaven with the mission of overworking my cock, or she’s fucking the pain away.

Whatever the reason, I’m glad.

I admire the way her tits move as she reaches up and wrings out her hair, and grab two towels for her before running one all over myself. I get ready in the other bathroom while she hogs the main one. It takes her fucking long to do all the shit she needs to do with makeup and her hair, but when she’s finished, she looks gorgeous.

My chest tightens as she gives me a kiss on the cheek. She wears a skin-tight semi-sheer black sweater and jeans that leave little to the imagination. I know that I barely know her and she’s mostly just a hot girl who I fuck, but it makes me proud. I’m proud to show her off to my ma.

She takes my hand, squeezing hard as we leave my apartment. I watch her face, her darting eyes, and her mouth, slightly parted as if she’s seconds from screaming. A hot wave of rage suddenly rises inside me for that asshole who made her so afraid.

There’s no one on the icy streets and I open the car door, letting her inside first. Then I join her and we drive out of there. Silence descends in the car, and I keep sneaking glances at her.

I barely know a thing about her.

“So what’s with you?”

“What do you mean?”

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “I’ve never known a girl to want it that often.”

“I haven’t had fun in a very long time.” She gives me a curious look and her hand curves around my thigh. “You make me feel really good about myself. I—I never realized how much I needed that.”

A pang of sadness hits me suddenly, and I can’t help but feel that whatever this is between us—she’s already feeling something a little more than lust.

Then she lets out a shaky sigh. “I’m worried about this.”

Truth be told, my guts haven’t unclenched since we left my apartment. I don’t like lying to my ma, but for once in my worthless life I’m doing something for the greater good.

She’ll understand.

I hope.

“Don’t worry about her. It’ll be fine.”

Like hell it’ll be.

I know exactly what my mother will do. She’ll scream, she’ll cry, she’ll want to be involved in every damn aspect of the wedding.

The forty minutes to Terrebonne don’t take very long at all and I pull into the driveway. We sit in the car as the engine ticks and stare at my childhood home. Even though it’s freezing, neither of us makes the move to open the car door.

“All right. Let’s do this.”

I open the door and step outside as Elena does the same, wrapping her arms around her sides immediately. She waits for me to walk around the car and then we walk up the path to the front door. Elena lets out a nervous sigh as I raise my fist—

The door flies open and my ma stands in the doorway, looking beautiful and put-together as always. “Hi, baby!”

I gesture toward Elena. “Ma, this is Elena.”

Poor Elena stiffens as my mother throws her arms around her neck and kisses her cheeks, nearly crying in ecstasy.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh my God, she’s so—you’re so beautiful. My son finally has a girlfriend. Come in. Come in!”

Red-faced, Elena smiles and walks in the house as I take a huge breath.

Here we fucking go.

It smells wonderful, but then again, it always does. It doesn’t matter what time of the night it is, whenever I come over my ma insists on feeding me. Typical Italian mom, I guess.

It looks exactly the same as it did when my dad was still alive. Same beaten-up furniture that my ma refuses to replace for some reason that escapes me. It’s as though she expects him to walk in any moment and find everything exactly the way he left it. A pain hits my side whenever I see a photo of him, and they’re everywhere in this fucking house. When he died, it was as though my heart was ripped from my breast.

My petite mom waves Elena inside, motioning toward the kitchen. “Please, sit, sit. Tony, come here and help your mother.”

Elena stands up from the chair. “I can help, too.”

“No, no. Sit down and relax. Have some—oh Jesus, where are my oven mitts!”

Chuckling, I walk into the kitchen and grab the oven mitts from the top of the refrigerator. “Here.”

Ma squints at me through her glasses and takes the mitts from me. “Maddon, I’m losing it. Tony, set the table.”

I grab fists full of silverware and place them around the small table, smiling at Elena, who sits as if her back is attached to a steel rod. She flinches suddenly as I drop my hand over her shoulder and squeeze it.