Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) by Susan Fanetti Page A

you when you can barely move. I’m just going to help you change your clothes. Unless you want to sleep in the dress you were wearing when we got bombed.”
     
    “And not in the good way,” she muttered.
     
    He barked a laugh, surprised and pleased. That was better. More backbone. “Right. Not in the good way. So, come on.” He held his hands out over her lap, and she put hers in them and let him help her back to her feet.
     
    Nick undid the zipper slowly, trying to be gentle. Under the dress, she wore a black bra with straps crossed over her back. When he pushed the dress down, off her body, he saw that the bra had a print of tiny, white roses. Her underwear, a thong, matched. His hands desperately wanted to sweep over the firm globes of her bare ass, an ass that practically demanded it be grabbed hard, but he forbore and turned her around. Her bra clasped in front, and she took hold of the hook before he did, unfastening it and letting her ample breasts spring free. Exposed to the cool air of his room and the heat of his regard, her nipples pebbled. Nick’s mouth watered.
     
    She was lovely. Unlike other women he’d bedded, she had soft curves instead of sharp angles, but she was firm and toned. He badly wanted to feel that tone in his hands, in his mouth, under his body, around his cock.
     
    Her chest pinked to a deep, rosy blush. He looked up to see that it had suffused her face, too.
     
    “You’re staring.” She tried to shrug the straps from her shoulders but winced in pain again. He did it for her.
     
    “You’re beautiful. Bellissima .”
     
    “I thought that wasn’t what this is about.”
     
    He reached down and picked up the t-shirt, and she let him help her get into it. “It’s not. I’m just enjoying the view.” He liked that she hadn’t told him he was wrong, though. He detected a little of her spark in that assuredness.
     
    When she got her hands through the sleeves, he reached for the sweatpants, but she said, “No. I don’t need those right now. I just want to sleep. And have the good meds, finally.”
     
    Feeling a sharp twinge of concern and sympathy with every wince, every moan she tried to hold back, he helped her into bed and pulled the comforter over her, then went for a glass of water and a dose of the good meds. Percocet.
     
    “Okay. Get some rest. I’m very close, so just call out if you need anything.” He turned to the open door.
     
    “Wait.”
     
    “Yeah?”
     
    “I feel stupid for saying this, but I’m…scared. I don’t want to be alone. Will you stay here until I fall asleep?”
     
    It was near dawn, and he wouldn’t sleep in what was left of the night, anyway. There were too many things to do, too many problems to solve. The thought of sitting here, watching Beverly fall asleep, calmed him. Perhaps that would be enough rest to prepare him for the chaos the sun would bring.
     
    He went to the empty side of the bed and sat up against the headboard. “The doctor told you it would be best to sleep on your sore side. Can you?”
     
    She shifted slowly to her right and settled down so she was facing him. “It hurts.”
     
    Bending down, he pressed his lips to her temple. “I know. The pills will kick in, and you’ll breathe easier this way.”
     
    She nodded and closed her eyes. Nick watched her and let his mind tease out the problems snarled together. The bombing had to be Church. It seemed like everything they were involved in somehow, all of a sudden, led back to Church. Even that pathetic bagman J.J. had caught was probably tied up in the Paganos’ war with Church.
     
    But how had the bomb happened? They had friends on the Providence bomb squad, so he knew they’d get their answers about the bomb itself. Controlled blast radius and timing—triggered, he thought, by the front passenger door opening—spoke to talent and opportunity. Talent made it Church. The only other entity who could afford that kind of talent would be another family, and