She hung right on the very edge of it being too much. It hurt and felt unbearably good all at the same time.

He growled, all that slow, easygoing long gone. This Duke was stripped down to the alpha male he was beneath all that suave cat stuff on the surface. And it was way too late to run the other way because damn and whoa he was good in bed.

And he made her laugh.

Right at that moment, though, he was so impossibly thick inside her pussy, so deep and so close to orgasm. The light in his eyes had gone from ferocious to dreamy and his growl had died, his mouth in a line of concentration.

Carmella was warm and soft, wet and open for him so she gave over to the pleasure of watching him come.

The muscles on his neck corded and his gaze cleared, locking onto hers as he pressed against her, coming as he kissed her senseless.

CHAPTER Seven

Carmella, smiling, bearing a bag of food she’d made for her mother to eat over the course of the week, let herself in, calling out as she did.

“Mom, you here?”

A growl prefacing a stream of high-pitched barking sounded, answering her question.

Virgie had a dog of her own. A perpetually cranky dachshund her mother carried around like a baby and spoiled rotten. She was barely tolerant of Carmella but was absolutely horrible if any other dogs were around.

“I brought you some food.” Carmella headed toward the kitchen, poking her head into the living room as she passed by.

“Thank you, sugar,” her mom called out.

Carmella unloaded the food into the cabinets, fridge, and freezer before heading to drop a kiss on her mom’s cheek and sit across from her.

In her day, for a brief, shining time, Virginia Hay was a great beauty. She liked to tell a story about how at sixteen she ran off to Hollywood to be a star but that in the end, love saved her from that crazy famous life she’d have had.

Virgie liked the fragile flower bit. Maybe it was just an act, way back in the day. Maybe there was a time when Carmella’s mother had strength and courage. A time when she hadn’t been content with letting herself be taken care of—and sometimes ill-used—by people.

“I put your pills in the keeper in the cabinet. I’ll be here tomorrow at ten to take you to the doctor. I’ll call you when I leave work so you can be ready.”

Her mother shrugged to say time was something that never really bothered her.

“Remember I’m not at Salazar anymore,” Carmella said. “I have less ability to come and go as I please.” Though Carmella had no doubt that if she needed the time to take her mom to a medical appointment, Twisted Steel would give it to her.

Still, she’d prefer not to involve relative strangers in this situation so she’d go in early and take a long lunch to get her mom to the doctor’s and back without shorting Twisted Steel any time.

“I promise I’ll be ready.”

At Carmella’s look, her mother’s mask slipped a little, giving a glimpse of the lost girl who lived in her mother’s skin.

For as long as Carmella could remember, her mother made promises and broke them. Carmella believed honestly that her mother truly meant to keep her promises when she made them. She just never followed through.

“How’s my brother?” Virgie asked, lighting a cigarette.

Carmella sighed. “Put it out. You’re going to aggravate your lungs.”

“You’re no fun,” Virgie said, meaning it. But she put the cigarette out.

“Someone has to be the grown-up.” Carmella hated herself when she allowed her mother to get under her skin and goad her.

“That’s boring too. You’re too young to give up on life, Carm.”

Carmella gave the dog a look, like for real? The vicious little snausage snorted a little. Even she couldn’t make excuses for Virgie’s bullshit.

“If you want to know how Uncle Carl is, you should call him yourself. I saw him yesterday. He and Aunt Maria just got back from a trip to Lake Chelan. Both were tanned and rested. They asked about you.” Her uncle loved his sister, even if he also understood how fucked up and toxic Virgie could be at times.

They never liked Carmella’s dad, or any of the placeholders Virgie brought around. They had called her on her bullshit when she’d waltzed off for several days, leaving fourteen-year-old Carmella at home.

Virgie didn’t get why her older brother, who’d spoiled her when she was a young girl, would make her do boring stuff like take care of Carmella every day and have groceries in the house.

Love was one thing, but he’d long since given up hope that she’d ever rise to the occasion and be a good mother. Or a halfway responsible adult. He resented the way that impacted Carmella’s life and future because she was the one her mother leaned on.

He saw it as Virgie stealing her daughter’s life and he hated it.

Over the years, especially after Carmella’s grandmother had died, it had driven a wedge between the siblings and Carmella had done her best to stand between her mother and uncle to keep the peace.

“Must be nice,” Virgie complained. “I never go on trips. Not that my brother ever bothers to invite me along.”

Carmella didn’t rise to the bait. It was a long road with no real destination. Just hours of listening to Virgie bitterly blame all her failures on other people. Or crying because she let them all down and knew it. Sometimes there’d be promises to be better, but usually it just went on and on until she wound down or Carmella left the room.

“I made you some enchiladas, some baked ziti, and chicken salad. Bread for sandwiches is in the bread box. I even put some presliced tomatoes, onions, and lettuce for toppings in your veggie drawer. I’m making pineapple upside down cake this weekend. I’ll bring some over for you.”