Devotion: The Beauty in Between (Beautiful Series book 4.5) (2 page)

“O
h, wow,” he says, doing a double take as the pencil falls from between his fingers. Quickly, he sets his guitar to the side, his eyes travelling up the length of my body as I stand before him in nothing but my matching purple lace bra and panties and a pair of black stilettos. I’ve got his whole attention now.

“It’s time to take a break
, my love,” I tell him seductively, stepping toward him before I kneel between his legs. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the firm peaks and valleys of his chest until I reach the waist of his jeans. “You need a night off. Sit back and relax.”

He grins,
meeting my eyes as I reach out to undo the buckle of his belt, slowly popping the button fly of his jeans, one at a time. Reaching in, I return his grin as I feel his cock, hard and ready for me. I free it from his boxers and run my hand down his smooth shaft as he inhales deeply.

Running my tongue gently around his tip, I continue to move m
y hand around his length, loving the soft moan that rumbles from within his chest as I slowly take him into my mouth.

Working him with my hand
, and my mouth and tongue, I hum gently as my own arousal zings between my legs. Reaching down, I slide my hand into my panties and find my hard nub, knowing that Theo is watching me. He loves to see me pleasure myself.

As I moan around his cock, touching him, touching myself,
Theo’s hands thread into my hair, guiding my rhythm as we both move toward our climax.

“
Dio mio!” a voice that doesn’t belong, calls out in shock.

I freeze, my eyes going wide as I realise there’s someone in the room.
And not just anyone – an Italian speaking someone. Theo’s mother. Fuck!

All at once, I remove my hands an
d pull my head back, releasing Theo’s cock as I turn toward the voice in horror.

“Fuck!” Theo calls
out at the same time, his orgasm shooting out of him, hitting me in the face.

“Oh god!” I cry
, stumbling backward as I try to wipe at my face and grab for something – anything – to cover myself up.

Frantically, I wipe my hands on a
n unused piece of paper before grabbing for the only thing in reach and holding it in front of me. That thing is Theo’s guitar.

I’m dying. I’m dying inside.
What the hell is she doing here?

“Oh god!” Theo yells, quickly tucking himself
back inside his jeans as he stands and gathers me behind him to hide my state of undress. “Mum! What the hell?” he yells at his mother who is madly crossing herself and mumbling something incomprehensible.

Still holding the guitar against my body, I bury my face
into Theo’s back, wishing I could just melt into him and never return. I am so embarrassed that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at his mother again.

They converse for a while in Italian
, and I once again kick myself for never taking the time to learn more of it. I can’t understand a thing they’re saying. Normally, she speaks in heavily accented English, so it’s never been an issue unless she’s upset and slips into her native tongue. But from their tone, I can gather that neither of them is saying anything nice.

Suddenly, Theo
pulls his shirt off and hands it to me, his voice rising to a booming yell as his mother’s rises to a shrill pitch. I set the guitar to the side and drop his soft white shirt over my head. It comes down to my thighs so at least I’m slightly decent.

Oh god, why won’t she just leave?

Their yelling escalates and Theo steps away from me. The absence of his reassuring warmth against me, leaving me bereft. Wrapping my arms around myself protectively, I watch them yell. I can see his mother, poking him in the chest and yelling in his face as she gestures dramatically. Theo is doing his best to stay calm, but he is just as emotional as she is.

Her head shakes and her aging neck wobbles
. Each time she glances at me she says the word ‘puttana’ which seems to make Theo even angrier.

I can’t take it anymore
. Their voices seem to rise and fill every bit of space in the garage studio until it feels as though my head is vibrating.

“Enough!” I scream, causing them both to stop mid rant and turn their attention to me. “Enough,” I repeat
, my voice soft but stern this time. I look between them, shake my head and quickly leave the room before I bust into tears in front of them.

“
Nomes!” Theo calls, as I race through the door that joins the studio to the house.

I don’t stop until I’m in the bathroom and have locked the door and turn
ed the shower on to drown out the sound of the world.

Dropping my clothing and shoes on the floor, I step under the steady st
ream of water and let it blast over my head like some sort of shield against what just happened. Holy shit, I could just curl up and die.

“
Nomes,” Theo calls over the sound of the shower as he knocks on the bathroom door. “Come out, babe. She’s gone.”

Holding my hands in front of me, I look at my wrinkled fingertips
and let out a deep sigh before I shut off the water. I’ve been in here for at least twenty minutes and the water is on the verge of turning cold.

“Open the door, Naomi. Let me in,” Theo says softly t
hrough the door.

Reaching for a towel, I wrap it around myself for warmth and flick the lock on the back of the door, stepping back as Theo opens it and meet
s my eyes with his sympathetic gaze.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out and gathering me into his arms. I curl into him, resting my head against his chest as I wish that we could go back in time at least
one hour, so I could make sure the bloody front door was locked before I went and seduced my fiancé.

“How bad is it?” I ask, knowing his mother’s pencha
nt for dramatic flair.

“She’ll get over it.
She always does,” he assures me.

“I won’t get over it. I’m
so
embarrassed, Theo. I just want to crawl under a rock and stay there. How am I ever going to sit across a dinner table from her again?”

His chest starts bouncing as a chuckle erupts from within.

“It’s not funny, Theo!”

“Babe. My mother just saw me
come in your face. It’s pretty fucking funny.”

I cover my face with my hands. “Oh god! Don’t remind me!” I moan.

His arms tighten around me. “Hey, it serves her right for walking into our house uninvited.”

“Note to self – always lock the front door…So, I guess she knows I’m living here now?”

“Yep,” he confirms gravely.

“Bloody hell,” I moan, running my hand over the top of my head in agitation.
“What the hell was she doing here? She never drops in unannounced.”

“I have no idea. We were too busy yelling at each other
to find out why she really was here. But don’t worry. It’ll all blow over.”

“Yeah
, but when? Remember what happened when Marcus and Lisa eloped? She lost her shit and wore black for months! All that muttering and crossing herself around them – what is she going to do after witnessing
that
?”

This
reaction may seem a little ridiculous. After all, Theo and I are adults. We’re engaged, and we’ve been touring the country, and the world, with our band for a few years now. And, we’ve been living together for most of those years. It’s just that Theo’s mother doesn’t know that part. Up until today, she still thought we were living separately.

Here’s the thing
. Theo comes from a very religious Italian family. His mother, especially, is very big on tradition and would have an absolute fit if she had realised we were living together before we were married. As far as she is concerned, her boys are ‘good catholic boys’ and they should marry ‘good catholic girls’.

The cathol
ic girl part was the one thing I had right. Although I’m not practising, I am at least christened and went through all of my communion and what not when I was young. But, the ‘good’ part… well, that was already debatable - but now, I’ve completely lost any sort of respect I had in Mrs Bailey’s eyes.

Mrs Bailey. That’s right, I still call her ‘Mrs Bailey’ as if I’m a child coming over
to her house to play after school. But what can I say? The woman makes me nervous as hell. When she’s upset, she mutters things in Italian that sound like curses and when her sons disappoint her… words can’t even describe what it’s like when that happens. Drama – she just radiates so much drama!

From what I’ve been told, when Theo went through his Goth phase,
she saw him once and lost her shit, claiming that he was breaking her heart because he was courting the devil. She made his life so difficult, that from then on he hid it from her so as not to upset her, but still be the person he wanted to be.

It’s hard to know what will set her off though. When
Theo’s younger brother, Marcus, made himself an Internet sensation by ruining our band’s Melbourne gig a few years ago, she barely bat an eyelid. Then, while he took off and toured the world for a couple of years without making any contact with a single one of us, once again, she was fine. “He just so busy,” she’d say in her thick accent. It used to infuriate me because I just knew that if Theo had done that, both Mr and Mrs Bailey would be shaking their heads in disappointment and claiming that he didn’t care about them anymore.

But I guess that’s the difference with the Bailey brothers – Theo was always the dependable one
and Marcus was always the one with stars in his eyes. They expected more from Theo than they ever did from Marcus.

The only time she ever reacted badly towards Marcus was when he
married a girl they had never met. Mrs Bailey wore black for months, and kept crossing herself all the time like there was some sort of demon in the room. It was ridiculous. But I still don’t think she blamed Marcus. Her negativity seemed to be aimed more toward his wife, Lisa. I don’t think Marcus can ever do wrong in her eyes.

So, you see,
her walking in on Theo and I being…sexual…
and
finding out that we’re living together before we’ve married, is probably going to give her a heart attack or something. And, it will be primarily blamed on me.

I guess because she still sees Marcus as the baby in the family, she overlooks
a lot of his faults. But with Theo, she seems to have very high expectations. Perhaps because he’s the oldest and therefore is expected to be more mature and level headed. As a result, Theo feels as though he’s a bit of a disappointment. But at the grass root of it all, it’s always the women in their life who lead her boys astray. My sister-in-law, Lisa, has gone through a multitude of drama at the hands of this woman. And from what I can gather, she isn’t going to be happy until one of us gives her our first-born child as some sort of sacrifice to the gods of overbearing mother-in-laws everywhere.

For a while, she was ok with Marcus and Lisa’s marriage (once she had gone through her mourning period after they eloped, that is.) But then, Marcus and Lisa made it very clear that they weren’t ready to start a family, and that has got her nose
severely out of joint again. She just can’t understand the point of marriage unless there are children.

Which brings us back to the fact that Theo and I still aren’t married. Not only are our friends on our backs about when it’s going to happen
, but Mrs Bailey is permanently on our case about it – perhaps that’s another reason we haven’t done it yet. Perhaps in some silly way, we are rebelling against her like we’re still teenagers…

I pull away from Theo’s embrace with a dramatic sigh and move to our bedroom to get dressed. He follows behind me, trying to assure me that it isn’t as bad as I think it is
until his phone rings.

“It’s Marcus,” he says,
pressing the key to accept his brother’s call before holding the phone to his ear. “Hey man, what’s up?” he asks in greeting.

Pulling on some underwear and a pa
ir of jeans and a fitted black singlet top, I twist my towel around my head in a turban as I keep an eye on Theo’s reaction to his brother’s call. I just know that she’s gone straight to Marcus and Lisa to tell them what we ‘did’ to her.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Theo
says, pressing his lips together before lowering his phone and hitting the ‘speaker’ option. Marcus’s voice filters out through the speaker and into the room.

“Guys, what the hell happened? We just had Mu
m over here ranting about you two. Now, my Italian is a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure she was calling Naomi a whore and saying that you‘re both going to hell.”

“I’m going to kill her,” Theo growls, shaking his head. “She can’t talk about Naomi that way.”

“Calm down, mate. You don’t want to start World War Three here,” Marcus says.

“Is that what ‘
puttana’ means? Whore?” I say at the same time to Theo, who doesn’t nod to confirm it, but by the look on his face, I know I’m right. “Bloody hell,” I sigh, shaking my head as it begins to throb.