Bellissimo Fortuna (Beautiful Fortune) by Leigh Ann Lunsford

me so I’m not straddling him, no chance of us bumping uglies, let alone touching uglies through the barrier of our clothes. “When are you going to stop treating me like I’m going to break? It’s okay to touch me.”
    “Callie,” he groans. “In time. This is new, you’re young, and I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
    “You are making me uncomfortable. You make me feel less than.”
    “Less than what?”
    “Less than all the other girls you’ve been with.”
    “Let’s get something straight, there are no other girls. You are it for me. Get your head out of that place you go to. As for being less than, Callie, you’re wrong. You’re so much more. More than anyone else before you, and there won’t be anyone after you because you are my end game.” Sometimes the simplest words are the most profound. He knows how to weave a fairytale around me and make me believe we will live it out. But with him I’m secure in the knowledge it isn’t just pretty words. He has always backed them up with actions, and he truly believes what he’s promising me. Therefore, I believe it, too.

 
    Chapter 6
    Bronson
     
    Curiosity kills the cat, and this girl is so damn curious. I have her sitting across my lap; she shifts so she’s straddling me. Exactly what I have been trying to avoid. Add her naivety to the situation, and she doesn’t realize planting her pussy right against my hardening dick is not helping my self-control. Bringing her lips to mine, I grab hold of her hips to try and shift her back, in turn, she pushes against me, creating friction. I know the moment she realizes because her gasp is audible.
    “Exactly, Callie. This is what I was trying to avoid. Too much too soon.” I reluctantly finish lifting her off my lap and sit her next to me. Here at the warehouses, surrounded by the water of the Gulf of Mexico, it’s a beautiful setting . . . a sharp contrast to the dirty work that goes on here. It’s become my escape the last few months, and having her here brings me another sense of serenity. The businesses are located about thirty minutes from where we live in Indian Shores, Florida, so we’re actually looking over Clearwater Beach when we’re here. Our parents tried to keep us separate from the businesses, but everyone knows, so it didn’t do a lot of good. I hate the respect that comes with our name because it’s a respect out of fear, not because of the type of people we are. I want to be respected on my merit, for my work, for doing good . . . not because people are afraid of my family.
    “Sorry,” her soft voice flows between us.
    “Don’t be sorry. I get your curious, but I can only handle so much, and we have so much time ahead of us. Don’t doubt I enjoy touching you, but there’s a time for everything.”
    “And we have all the time in the world?” That should have been a statement. A confirmation of our future, but instead it is a question.
    “Yes, I promise.” We sit in silence, both lost in our own thoughts until the roar of the boat startles us. Glancing up as it docks, I realize it’s my dad’s. I get a sick feeling in my gut. It is always kept at home; we take it out as a family or with our friends. It’s our personal boat, and there are many others used for business. Marco and another man step off and come to a halt when they see us.
    I stand but place my hand on her shoulder, silently instructing her to stay put. I make the dozen or more steps to reach the men. “What are you doing with that boat? Others are at your discretion to use.”
    Marco sneers at me, but when the other man next to him uses my name, he clears all hostility from his face and tries to show some decorum. “Mr. Agosto, we had a job to handle, the guy lives on his boat. We had to use the water to contact him.”
    “Why my father’s personal one?”
    The cugine looks to Marco for an answer. “The usual one was out for repairs. This job was of utmost importance, so we were given your