Читать онлайн книгу «On Her Terms» автора Cathryn Fox
On Her Terms
Cathryn Fox
The hottest man I've ever hated… The hottest sex I've ever had! As a lawyer who picks up the pieces of broken relationships, my number one dating rule is: no emotions. Until I come face-to-face with Luca Marino at a wedding. The aristocratic Italian sex-god humiliated me years ago—and doesn’t recognize me after my transformation from the shy, overweight girl I once was. Now’s my chance for deliciously hot payback, but it means breaking my golden rule…
From New York Times bestselling author Cathryn Fox—a deliciously hot Harlequin DARE!
Once is always enough...or is it?
As someone who picks up the pieces of broken relationships every day, my dating rule is firm: no emotions. But Luca Marino isn’t the kind of guy who plays by the rules. He never was... In our Oxford days, he was gorgeous, gregarious...popular. Too popular to care that he humiliated a shy, overweight girl who worshipped the ground he walked on. Well, I’m a different person now—successful, with the expensive hair, makeup and clothes to match. But Luca...well, he seems exactly the same.
Now the man I hate is the best man for my cousin’s luxurious St. Moritz wedding...and it’s time for some red-hot payback.
The sex is definitely hot. The wild, sweaty, forget-your-evil-revenge kind that lasts all night. From the moment we touch, raw energy takes over, and I hand over all control. And, oh, I like it. But when I lie to my ailing grandfather and announce I am engaged—to Luca—all hell breaks loose.
Just this once, I’ll break my rule. But giving in to Luca once is dangerous enough. What happens if I give in to his terms for a second time...and risk falling hard for the guy I swore to hate?
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CATHRYN FOX is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, aunt and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie), pizza and red wine. Cathryn lives in beautiful Nova Scotia with her husband, who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. When not writing, Cathryn can be found Skyping with her son, who lives in Seattle (could he have moved any further away?), shopping with her daughter in the city, watching a big action flick with her husband, or hanging out and laughing with friends.
On Her Terms
Cathryn Fox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08696-7
ON HER TERMS
© 2019 Cathryn Fox
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Heather Veinotte, friend, big sister, confidante.
Thanks for letting me bounce this one off you, for
helping me get the facts straight and for reading the
very first rough draft.
Love you!
Contents
Cover (#uad7fc3a2-0f4d-51d4-a4ea-a715a8faea06)
Back Cover Text (#u71a82fa1-fc62-50fc-9295-6fab994c0fa1)
About the Author (#u9128fa9e-4cf1-54e7-9dbb-33b06d787272)
Title Page (#u96a5516b-6f33-5a03-b80b-cef23b144e96)
Copyright (#u6a9731a7-ca4b-5cce-b959-16606b488e69)
Dedication (#u38d37055-48b7-5f70-b82e-bf09a9a1802b)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc6cf4414-98b8-54fe-8b53-0e1bd233eff8)
CHAPTER TWO (#uffa4f594-0f71-5e50-92cc-326da77dbdb9)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6c6a49c3-ac8d-5f39-aa3f-64d2156b33e5)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4dbc3623-7926-581a-9828-d5a67297a9a9)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ucc7050b4-a5c9-5926-9ca3-1198d137eb0a)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
“COME ON, COME ON, come on,” I say under my breath as the cabbie slowly drives his car. We wind through the streets of St. Moritz, the gorgeous Alpine town where my cousin Tate is getting married—he’s no doubt wondering where I am.
I glance at my watch and groan inwardly. I hate being late. Absolutely hate it. I actually pride myself on my punctuality, but divorce court ran late, and that left me running to the airport to board Granddad’s private plane. By the time I took my seat, the Learjet had been waiting on the tarmac for hours. Granddad’s personal flight attendant gave me the once-over. Probably because I looked like I’d just come from the rinse cycle and had been hung upside down on the line to dry. Although I’m anything but dry, thanks to the turbulent flight and the humid summer air way up here in the Alps.
I pull my damp blouse away from my skin and steal a quick glance at my watch again. Dammit, the bridal party dinner started fifteen minutes ago, and Tate—considerate man that he is—would have held the meal for me. A double dose of guilt hits at having so many people waiting, because I got tied up, and now I’m in a cab with a whistling driver who is moving at a snail’s pace. The New Yorker in me wants to jump in the front seat and press down on the gas pedal. Hard.
“Relax, we’re almost there,” the cabdriver says, clearly picking up on my tension. He waves a hand. “Look around. Enjoy the view. No one can feel anything but peaceful when surrounded by such beauty,” he says in a heavy French accent that’s almost difficult to understand.
I exhale a slow breath and look out the window. My God, I’d forgotten just how magnificent the high Alpine town really is, how it’s unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been. I marvel at the sun-kissed mountains, their peaks white, even in summer. My gaze travels to the towering Palace Hotel positioned over Lake St. Moritz. I smile as old memories bombard me. As a teen, I spent a lot of time here with Granddad and Tate, especially after my dad left and my mom disengaged from life. But thinking of Granddad brings on another blast of guilt.
Over the last few years, his health has been failing, which is why Tate recently moved his law practice from Boston to Manhattan to be closer to him. I’ve been so damn busy at work, putting in sixteen-hour days to prove I’m partner material at the firm, I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Then again when I am around, Granddad spends most of the time grilling me about when I’m getting married.
I’m not.
Ever.
A garbled sound crawls out of my throat, and I catch the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Seriously though, I’m a divorce lawyer. I face couples squaring off against each other every day, and I’ve come to learn that what starts as love always turns to greed and hate. If that’s not enough to make me jaded, all I have to do is look in my own backyard. Most of the men in my family have a penchant for younger women and are never able to settle down for very long, hence the ironclad prenuptials they always have drawn up. On top of that, the last guy I dated seriously turned out to be a two-timing asshole. And of course I can’t forget the sting of rejection from that one notorious guy during my University of Oxford undergraduate years. A gorgeous Italian god every girl wanted. One incident was all it took for that arrogant stuffed shirt to shake my confidence for years afterward.
Cynical much? Oh yeah, like 100 percent. Now when I’m with a man, it’s on my terms. No love. No romance. Just physical one-night stands with no tomorrows. That’s how I like it, and whether Granddad approves or not, he has no choice but to accept it.
“We’re here,” the driver says as he slows his car down in front of Raydolins Hotel, one of the many opulent resorts my granddad owns here. I grab some bills from my purse and quickly hand them over. The cabbie slides from his seat and pulls my luggage from the trunk, and I slip from the back seat and check my reflection in the car window. When I take in the hot mess that is me—Brianna Carson—I cringe.
My hair is a big ball of frizz, and no amount of spray can fix that in this humidity. I swipe at the black smudges beneath my heavy-lidded eyes and only manage to make matters worse. Great, now I look like an angry raccoon jacked up on pain meds. Maybe a bit of lipstick will help brighten me up. Then again I’m not here to impress anyone. I wish I had time to shower and change, but I’m not about to keep Tate or his guests waiting a second longer.
“Relax. Enjoy it while you can. You’ll be back in New York before you know it,” the cabdriver says. As he saunters back to his car, I can’t help but feel a tinge of envy. My life is fast-paced, hectic and mostly chaotic. I wish I could be so laid-back. Cripes, if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up having a heart attack before I hit twenty-eight next month, and for what, really? Am I really making this world a better place? Doing work that is meaningful?
I grab my bag and head inside. The bellboy opens the door as I approach and the cool air washes over me. I widen my arms and let loose a grateful moan. I hurry to the registration desk, sign in quickly and leave my bag for the concierge to take to my room.
My heels tap on the marble floor as I pick up the pace and head to the dining room where the private function is being held. Before I enter, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly and plaster on a smile. I step inside, work to present a well-put-together woman, and search the long table for Tate. When he sees me, he jumps up, comes over and picks me up in a crushing hug.
“I’m so sorry, Tate. I got tied up, and the cabbie—”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay,” he says, and when I take in his big smile, my heart beats a little faster. I’ve never seen him happier, and that warms me from the inside out. Summer Love, his beautiful fiancée, has been so good for him, and he deserves all the happiness life has to offer. Still, there is a small part of me that worries about their future. They’ve only been together for six months. Is that enough time for a strong bond to build? Lord knows love can become venomous pretty quickly. At least I know Summer isn’t marrying for money, and Tate is one of the good guys. That doesn’t stop me from throwing up a silent prayer for him, a request that he doesn’t end up like the other men in our family, with a long list of exes.
“Come on. Everyone will be so happy to see you,” he murmurs over the din of the crowd as he puts his arm around my waist to guide me across the floor.
I glance at the elegant table with its crisp white linen, fine china and crystal glasses. The wine has been flowing, but no food has been served. “Yeah, only because they’re starving,” I shoot back.
Tate laughs and it’s so exuberant, I can’t help but laugh with him.
“What’s so funny?” Granddad asks as Tate pulls out the empty chair beside him.
“Oh, nothing,” I say and give my grandfather a big hug before I take a seat. I glance around, take in a few familiar faces of my relatives and offer up a smile to the table. My eyes track Tate as he moves to the head of the table and drops a kiss onto his fiancée’s lips before smoothing his hand over his tie, a familiar habit.
“Where’s your plus-one?” Granddad asks, and I suppress a sigh.
“I came alone,” I say and smile at him.
He lifts a gnarled, arthritic hand and shakes a finger at me. “I can’t wait forever, Brianna. I don’t have a lot of time left, you know.”
My stomach drops. Honestly, I wish I wasn’t so jaded. I wish I could fulfill a dying man’s wish, but I’m not about to enter into marriage only to go through the pain of divorce, just to please my grandfather.
“Granddad—”
“I worry about you, Brianna.” His once-syrupy voice cracks and he coughs into the crook of his arm. He hacks for a few seconds, and then he turns to me and adds, “It’s not natural to be alone.”
He would know. He had a slew of younger women over the years. But who am I to judge? After Grandma—his one and only true love—died, it was good to see him happy again, have someone help fill that void.
He frowns at me and my heart sinks into my stomach as I take in the deep lines bracketing troubled eyes. I’ve never seen him look so old or tied, completely worn out. The trip here must have been hard on him, but he insisted that Tate have his wedding at the resort and that he was well enough to travel. Looking at him now, I’m not so sure he’ll last the week. My heart squeezes. Granddad has always been good to me. He was there for me when Dad walked out on us, and again when I lost Mom a few years ago. He taught me the value of hard work and supported me when I moved across the pond to attend Oxford. He even visited me when I was lonely. Jeez, maybe I should tell a fib, pretend I have someone just to please him and ease his worries.
Should I?
I mean, what could it hurt, right? Let him think I have a man, give him peace of mind during the wedding. Like he said, he doesn’t have much time left, and I don’t want to see him spend the rest of his days needlessly worrying over me.
I place my napkin on my lap and take a big drink of wine after the server fills my glass. Here goes nothing. “Granddad, this isn’t the time or place to be talking about this, but you can put your worries to rest. I’m seeing someone, and it’s serious. In fact, we’re engaged.” What the hell? That was too far, Bri.
His cloudy blue eyes light up, and weathered lips curl up into a smile. “Tell me all about him,” he says and leans back in his chair.
I open my mouth, ready to spill more lies. Did I mention I hate lying as much as I hate being late? Yet here I am, batting two for two. I’m about to tell him some fabricated story about my Prince Charming when Tate stands and taps his crystal stemware with a spoon. All eyes turn to him, including Granddad’s.
Thank God!
“Now that we’re all here,” he begins, and heat moves into my cheeks as he winks playfully at me. “I’d like to do a round of introductions.”
He begins with his beautiful fiancée, who is beaming up at her soon-to-be husband. An invisible band tightens around my heart, and tears prick my eyes, but then I quickly remind myself I want no part of love or marriage. Nope, it’s just hit it and quit it for me, as crude as that sounds.
Tate goes around the table, talks about how he met those in his bridal party and adds a fun little story about each person. When he gets to me—the last bridesmaid—I nibble my lip with trepidation. The stories the man could tell about me would be humiliating at best. But instead of embarrassing me, he introduces me as his closest cousin, and goes on to let everyone know that I make a mean apple pie, which is a total lie. Then again the pie might have turned out just fine, if I hadn’t burnt the kitchen down baking it.
Granddad laughs at the inside joke as Tate knowingly grins at me. He continues the introductions, and I crane my neck to see around Uncle Bill, who’s seated to my right. Tate reaches the last man at the table, the one sitting on his left, and I pick up my glass to take a drink.
“This guy here is my right-hand man,” Tate says. “Most of you don’t know him. He joined my law firm just a couple of months ago, and not only did we hit it off the first time I met him here in the Alps, I don’t know what I’d do without him by my side in the office. He’s smart, meticulous and works long and hard into the night to get a job done. I’m happy to introduce Luca Marino, my best man.”
Luca Marino!
Wine sloshes over the edge of my crystal stemware as my hand shakes. I forcefully swallow the lump climbing into my throat and set my glass down before I drop it. I must be wrong. I have to be wrong. No way could the man seated to Tate’s left be the Luca Marino, the Italian jerk who rejected me in college. What are the odds Tate would even know him?
As my pulse beats double time against my neck, I slowly stand to see over my uncle’s head, but the bottom falls out of my world when my gaze settles on the most gorgeous man I’ve ever set eyes on—Mr. Arrogant-Stuffed-Shirt himself.
CHAPTER TWO (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Luca
BRIANNA CARSON IS Tate’s cousin?
Brianna Carson is Tate’s cousin!
I try to wrap my brain around that, but I still can’t quite believe it. I never put it together before, and why would I? I haven’t seen her since our University of Oxford days, and after I walked her home from a party one night, she went out of her way to avoid me. I’m not sure what I did or said to piss her off, and while I would’ve liked to have talked to her to find out, there was never an opportunity. She made sure of that.
As I meet Brianna’s gaze from the other end of the table, my entire body grows tight. Raw energy arcs between us, and I suck in a fast breath as she wobbles slightly, like the sight of me has completely caught her off guard, too. I catch a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but then she offers up a polite, somewhat distant smile and turns away. Wait, maybe she doesn’t remember me. Could I have imagined that flash of familiarity? I’m not sure, but I sure as hell would never forget her. She might have lost a bit of weight and changed her hairstyle and hair color, but I’d know sexy Brianna Carson anywhere.
Oh, how I’d wanted to take her to her bed that night, put my hands and mouth all over her curvy body. Do all the dirty things that had been racing around my brain when I first set eyes on her in my senior year. The sight of her now is stirring up all of those hot images and urging me to do something about it. Why again did I walk away, leaving her alone in her dorm room? Oh right—she’d been drinking. I might be a lot of things, but I’d never take advantage of a girl who’d had one too many.
Tate nudges me. I’ve been so lost in thought, I missed what he was asking me. “What’s that?” I say.
Tate laughs. “Where were you?” he asks as a handful of servers begin setting our meals in front of us.
I look down at the roast beef dinner in front of me. “Work,” I fib. “Just thinking about some figures I’d like to go over.” Okay, not a total lie. I was thinking about Bri’s curvy figure and how I’d like to go over it—with my tongue. My dick swells and presses against my zipper.
Cazzo!
Get it together. This is not the time or place to be sporting a hard-on!
“You need to take this week off and relax, my friend. Put work behind you and have some fun. That’s an order.” Tate leans closer, his words for my ears only. “What you need is to get laid, buddy.”
I laugh. “You’re probably right.” I recently moved from St. Moritz to New York to help Tate get his law business off the ground. Then I buried myself in work, enjoying life outside my duties back in Italy for a little while longer.
I’ve been avoiding those for years now, ever since my dad and brother died in a car accident three years ago. Even before that, I hid my identity from the world for a long time. Not even Tate knows who I really am—a duke. People treat me differently once they know, and while I can probably trust my friend, past experiences have taught me every woman wants to be my duchess, not because of love but because of prominence.
I can’t avoid duty much longer, though. The letter in my suit-coat pocket is a burning reminder of that. With my father gone, along with my older brother, Matteo, the family legacy falls to me. That includes the dukedom and the family conglomerates. Uncle Giovanni is overseeing things for now, but if I don’t meet the stipulations of my father’s will and marry his best friend’s daughter before I turn thirty this year, the controlling shares of my father’s conglomerates will go to my eldest cousin, Marco. I can’t let that happen. He’ll blow through the entire Marino fortune in no time, destroy everything my father built.
“This looks amazing,” Summer says, and with that we all dig into our meals. Small talk is made as the courses are served one after the other. Over an hour later, after the dessert dishes are cleared, we all head to the bar area for a drink. I search the crowd for Brianna and find her talking to Tate, but every now and then she casts a fast glance my way. Only problem is, whenever she finds me staring she tears her gaze away. At least that gives me the opportunity to blatantly look her over, revel in the way her formfitting skirt clings to her hips, the way she fiddles with the button on her blouse. A nervous little habit I remember from years ago. I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it, but it does beg the question, what is sexy Brianna Carson so damn worked up about?
“Can I get a whiskey neat,” I say to the bartender as I shrug out of my suit jacket and place it over the back of the stool before I settle myself onto the plush seat.
Summer comes up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. I turn to her and she offers up a smile. “Hey, Summer,” I say and drop a kiss onto her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.” She angles her head and narrows her big eyes, her curious gaze moving over my face. “What?” I ask and shift a little on the chair.
She taps her nails on the bar top. “Do you and Brianna know each other?”
I shake my head and grin. Leave it to Summer to notice the tension between us. As a doctor, she’s pretty good at picking up on subtleties, and there isn’t much anyone can get by her. I’m about to open my mouth to answer, when Tate slides his arm around his fiancée’s waist.
“I was wondering the same thing,” he says, and that’s when I notice Brianna coming up behind him, avoiding my gaze as she signals the bartender for a drink.
“Brianna,” I say, and she settles a polite gaze on me.
“Luca, isn’t it?” She turns to Tate. “Sorry, I was so jet-lagged when you did the introductions, I wasn’t sure if I caught the right name.”
“Ah, so you two don’t know each other, then,” Summer says, but from the way her gaze is going back and forth between the two of us, I’m not so sure she’s convinced of that.
There was a time I would’ve liked to have known Brianna. A girl like her, well, she could make me forget my responsibilities to my family in Italy. If life were different, I would’ve gone for her, made her mine. But I didn’t date while I was at Oxford, not when I’d have to subject a woman to the rigidity of my title and obligations.
“Why would we know each other?” Brianna asks and smooths her hand over her thick chestnut hair. For a second I envision my hands in that tangled mess, tugging on those long strands until her mouth opens for me. What I’d do to finally taste her, finish what we never got the chance to start all those years ago. But I’m not about to start something I still can’t finish. Brianna deserves better than that. She deserves her own Prince Charming, not a duke who’s already spoken for. For the last few years, Valentina has been waiting in the wings, eager to walk me down the aisle and become my duchess. I haven’t seen the woman in years. Who the fuck does arranged marriages anymore, anyway? I never thought in a million years that my father would put such a stipulation in his will.
“You both went to Oxford Law,” Tate says. He gives a shrug of one shoulder and adds, “Then again it’s a big campus, and Luca was probably a year or two ahead of you.” The overhead lights dim, and the music picks up. Tate turns to Summer. “Dance with me.” She smiles up at her fiancé, and I grin. Those two were made for each other. I knew it the first time she came into the bar here in St. Moritz, where Tate and I were working six months ago. He was undercover as a bartender, trying to prove Summer was a fraud who was out to steal billions from his granddad. At the time, I was hanging out in the Swiss Alps, enjoying the commoner’s life. For years now I’ve been travelling around, doing odd jobs, trying to live a full life before duty catches up to me and I have to settle into my rightful position as Luca Marino, Duke of Massara.
Brianna opens her mouth, no doubt to excuse herself, when her granddad’s cane hits the floor as he saunters up to the bar. “I’ll have a brandy,” he says.
“Granddad, I don’t think you should be drinking,” Brianna says.
He waves a dismissive hand her way. “Foolishness, child. I’ve got more brandy in these veins than blood. Now, what’s this I hear about you two knowing each other?”
I shake my head, having no idea how he could have heard us from the other side of the room. He settles himself onto the stool next to me, and the bartender slides him a drink. He drains the amber liquid in one easy swallow, slams his glass on the mahogany top and then gestures for another.
“We don’t know each other,” Brianna says quickly, her gaze darting to mine, like she’s worried I might claim otherwise.
“Well then, get out there on the dance floor and start getting to know each other, already.”
Brianna briefly closes her eyes, and I catch something in Granddad’s smile, something that looks an awful lot like mischief. What is the old man up to? Tate told me his grandfather was behind him and Summer meeting and falling for each other. I look him over, take in the statuesque way he carries himself. Something tells me he’s not as frail and sick as he lets on. Maybe the others can’t see it because they’re too close. But I sense there is something more going on with James Carson.
“I’m tired, Granddad. It was a long flight and an even longer day. I just want to go back to my room and call it a night.”
“I’m headed out, too,” I say, picking up on the tension between Brianna and her grandfather. Wanting to help her out, I add, “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“That’s okay,” she says quickly, her smile forced. “I forgot a few things and have to hit up the gift shop.” She drops a kiss onto her granddad’s cheek and hurries from the room, once again avoiding my gaze and pretending she doesn’t know me. Although I’m pretty goddamn sure she does. What the hell is going on with her?
“I guess I should call it a night, too,” I say to James as he downs another ounce of brandy. “I have some forms I need to go over.”
“I just bet you do,” James says to me, an almost sinister smile quirking his lips, like he’s been inside my head all night and knows all the dirty things pinging around in my brain. I can’t imagine he’d be too happy with my thoughts, considering Brianna is his granddaughter.
Tate and Summer come back to check on their granddad and I use that opportunity to excuse myself. I leave the room and head outside. I’ve opted to stay in one of the family’s chalets instead of the grand hotel. I have always preferred the solitude.
I nod to a group of women as they wave to me, and keep my head down as I make my way to my cottage. The warmth of the night falls over me, and my clothes stick to my skin. Since I know the resort like the back of my hand, I turn left instead of right. Forgoing rest, I take one of the lesser-known paths that leads up the mountain. There are plenty of suitable swimming lakes scattered throughout the town, but this high up on the hill, most are untouched. The frigid temperatures a bit too much for visitors. The wind picks up as I climb, and I dodge a few puddles, compliments of the afternoon downpour. I start to unbutton my shirt, tug it away from my body, anxious to jump into the water to cool myself down. But that’s when I realize I left my suit jacket back at the hotel. Good thing I brought a couple of extras.
The path narrows, and up ahead a bunny scurries into the underbrush. The temperature has dropped significantly, but I don’t mind. As I approach my favorite private spot, I’m about to unzip my pants, but humming reaches my ears. What the hell? Only Tate and I know about this place, and he’s back at the hotel. I slow my steps, not wanting to frighten whoever happened to stumble upon my spot, but when I see a pile of clothes on the ground, my heart jumps into my throat. That skirt. That blouse. A certain woman from my past was wearing those tonight.
CHAPTER THREE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
I CAN’T FOR one minute believe that Luca and Tate know each other, let alone work together. I dunk myself under the cold water, letting it cool my heated body—which just might have more to do with the man I hate than the humidity of the night. Luca Marino is a complete and utter asshole, but my body can’t deny he’s as gorgeous today as he was all those years ago. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Back in the day he was a boy who looked good in his blue Oxford hoodie. Today he’d fill that sweater out like a man. Damned if I wouldn’t like to see that.
Heat trickles through my blood despite the frigid water, and I swim from one side to the other, my mind going back to that mortifying night he walked me to my room and left me there. Alone. Every girl in my dorm wanted Luca Marino, myself included. I’d seen the women he gravitated toward and as a chubby girl, I never thought I had a chance with him. Until that one party.
He’d been wearing that comfortable hoodie, and he had smiled at me. At first I thought he was looking at someone else, but when I turned, no one was behind me. My girlfriend encouraged me to go for it, and I was so damn nervous, I kept drinking. With enough alcohol to cloud my judgement, I sauntered up to him. This was it—I’d finally have a real conversation with him. We talked for a few minutes and he asked where I lived. I totally freaked out, inwardly of course. The Luca Marino wanted to know where I lived! I told him and as he walked me back to my dorm, I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Not because I’d been drinking but because I was going to have the night I’d been fantasizing about forever, with the man of my dreams, and come tomorrow I’d be the one wearing his sweater, a symbol of our relationship. I stepped into my room, and when I turned back to him, he was pulling his phone from his pocket and closing the door in my face.
I can just imagine he was calling his friends. I wonder if they all had a good laugh about it afterward. Let the chubby girl think you’re into her, and then dump her at her door. Was it some kind of cruel prank? One nasty rumor spread around my dorm after that night certainly had suggested that.
Goddammit, I was such a cliché.
Stop thinking about him.
Needing to clear my head, I begin humming, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get that man out of my thoughts. A laugh I have no control over bubbles in my throat. I went out of my way to avoid him on campus until he graduated at the end of that year. But there’s no avoiding him here, now is there? Nope. We’re in the same bridal party, for God’s sake.
After the introductions, I panicked and pretended not to know him. He didn’t correct me, which leads me to believe he doesn’t remember me. Why would he? Since graduating law school a few years back, I lost the weight and changed my hair. Inside, I’m no longer that shy, self-conscious girl, either. Though I can’t deny that even as I moved on, I never forgot him or that experience. It took me a while to feel confident on a date afterward. Meanwhile I’m sure he hasn’t given me a thought. As I consider that, my mind races down a dark path, calculates all the ways I could get back at him for humiliating me. Maybe I could get him to take me back to his place and then walk away, the same way he walked away from me. It’s juvenile for sure, but maybe revenge would help me finally get him out of my head once and for all.
Exhausted, I stop swimming and climb from the lake. I shiver as the cool mountain air washes over me. I should have brought a towel but I ran from the hotel so fast, needing a reprieve from Luca, I never thought to grab one. I fold my hands over my naked body and go in search of my clothes. Wind whips over me, and I dart a glance around, combing the exact spot I left them.
I shake my head when my hunt comes up empty. “What the hell?”
“Looking for these?”
My head jerks up to find Luca standing close, his outstretched arm holding my clothes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask and snatch the clothes from his hand. At least he has the decency to keep his eyes closed. “Turn around,” I say. He does as I ask, and I struggle into my clothes, a difficult task with my body dripping wet. I fight with my skirt and finally get it over my damp hips.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. “Bri, isn’t it?”
Okay, he’s either messing with me, or he really doesn’t remember who I am. “Brianna. My friends call me Bri. What are you doing here?”
“I came for a swim. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”
“How do you know about this place?”
“Tate showed it to me.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I hurry into my blouse and button it. “Okay, you can turn around now.” He slowly turns, and his heated gaze rakes over my body, a slow, leisurely inspection that steals the air from my lungs. He presses his thumb to his bottom lip, and when his head lifts and his eyes meet mine, I damn near bite off my tongue.
My mind quickly revisits my juvenile plan. From the way he’s looking at me, I have no doubt I could get him to take me to his bed. But isn’t that just like this type of guy? Only interested in me now because I fit his standards. My ex, Ryan, was the same way, telling me I was beautiful one day and then hounding me when I gained a pound or wore something he didn’t like. I squash my anger and slowly blink my lashes, trying my best to be flirtatious, but that’s so out of my wheelhouse, I’m not sure I can pull it off.
“I should get out of your way then, let you have a swim,” I say and let my lashes fall slowly, hoping I’m giving him all the right signals.
Curiosity moves into his eyes as he angles his head, his gaze raking over my face. He probably thinks I’ve escaped the asylum. One minute I’m raging on him, and the next I’m doing my best to be flirty.
A cool breeze washes over me, and my teeth clamp together. “You’re freezing,” he says. While I want to shoot back with, way to state the obvious, I bite my sharp response and hug myself tighter. “Come here.”
He steps up to me and drags me to him. My face goes to his chest, and I breathe in the clean, soapy scent of his skin. His natural aroma, combined with a hint of cologne—likely named Panty Remover—makes me want to do just that. Holy God, no man should ever smell this good. I breathe deeply, fill my lungs with his scent, and then hold my breath.
He runs his hands up and down my arms, creating heat with friction, but I only shiver harder. Although I’m not so sure the goose bumps breaking out on my flesh are from the cold this time.
“You need to get off this mountain and inside somewhere warm,” he says and steps back. I wince at the dismissal. So much for my efforts. His fingers go to the last buttons on his shirt. I turn toward the path, giving him his privacy to undress and swim. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I turn back toward him. “Going back to the...” My words fall off when he peels the shirt from his shoulders, exposing a beautiful bronzed body and a six-pack my fingers suddenly itch to touch.
“Here.” He closes the distance between us and wraps me in his shirt. Warmth sinks into my bones as he throws his arm around me and guides me down the hill.
I probably shouldn’t be touched by the gentlemanly gesture. Once an ass, always an ass, right? Which begs the question: Now that I’ve got his attention, should I go through with my plan of payback?
The air warms as we descend, and night is fully upon us by the time we reach the village. My body is still quivering, and so is the needy juncture between my legs. Jeez, with the way I’m reacting, I’m not so sure I could seduce him and walk away.
You hate this guy, Bri. He humiliated you.
“I’m still so cold,” I say.
“Let’s hurry. You’re staying at the hotel with the others, right?”
“Yes, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m in one of the chalets.” He points off in the distance, but I know where the chalets are located. I’ve stayed in them many times over the years.
“Maybe we should go there,” I say. “It’s closer, and I’m afraid I’m going to freeze to death.”
He goes still, and his brow furrows as he stares off into the distance, like his mind is a million miles away.
“Luca?” I ask. “It is Luca, right?”
“Yeah, that’s what my friends call me,” he says, a small grin on his face. Touché. “Come on. I’ll get you warmed up and then see you back to your hotel.”
With his arm still around me, he guides me down a narrow path leading to his chalet. He opens the door for me and guides me in. The place is perfectly neat, much of what I’d expect from a guy like him.
“So tidy,” I say, walking down the hall leading into the main area, which has a kitchen, island and dining table on one side of the big room. I glance to the left to take in a sofa facing a fireplace. Beyond that there is a big king-size bed and a door leading to an outside deck. “How long have you been here?”
“Got in yesterday.” His gaze moves over me again. “Do you want to get out of those clothes?”
My pulse leaps. But then it settles quickly when I realize what he’s asking. Oh, how I wanted to hear those words from him all those years ago.
“Yeah, I probably should,” I say. Okay, Bri, this is the perfect opportunity for seduction. “Do you have something I could slip into? A pair of sweats, maybe.”
“I have a T-shirt,” he says. “And gym shorts. No sweats.”
“That should do.”
He goes to the dresser and comes back with a T-shirt that will float on me and a pair of shorts with no drawstring. I point to them. “Ah, those won’t work.”
“Probably not.” He puts them aside and hands me the shirt. He gestures with a nod. “Bathroom is in there.”
“I know where it is,” I say as I saunter across the room.
“That’s right. Your granddad owns the resort, doesn’t he?” I nod as I step into the bathroom and leave the door slightly ajar as I change. “What’s with you and him, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem tense around him.”
Luca always was a smart guy. Very astute. I’ll have to play it careful around him. “He won’t stop pushing me to get married,” I say truthfully. No need to fib about that.
“Ah,” he says.
I take off my wet clothes—bra and panties included—and shrug into his warm shirt. “Ah, what?”
“Nothing,” he says, but before I can press he continues with, “So, you’re not interested in marriage?”
“Hell no.”
I come out from the bathroom and walk to the closet housing the washer and dryer. I bend slightly and toss my clothes in. When I stand and turn around, Luca’s glance is slowly lifting from where my ass had just been.
Okay, girl, here goes nothing.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Luca
MY EYES LIFT from her ass, and when I catch a small smile on her lips—clearly I’m busted—I tear my gaze away. What is going on with her? One second she’s acting like she doesn’t know me, and the next she’s aiming her sexy ass my way. I’m pretty damn sure she’s aware of what she’s doing and is trying to get a rise out of me.
Well done, Brianna. It worked.
I turn from her and pretend to do something in the kitchen sink as I adjust my cock. Her bare feet graze the wooden floor as she walks around the chalet and it’s all I can do to keep my shit together. A whooshing sound reaches my ears and I turn to find her flicking on the propane fire.
“Still not warm?” I ask, even though the sun’s been beating in through the windows of the chalet all day and it’s a million degrees. She holds her hands out in front of the fire to absorb the heat.
“Not yet,” she says.
“Maybe you should jump in the shower,” I say as beads of perspiration dot my bare chest.
“You think a warm shower will help?”
“For you, yes. Personally I need a cold one,” I say, and when she wipes her tongue over her bottom lip, I groan. “It’s so hot in here,” I explain, not wanting her to think I need a cold shower to cool down my dick, which just happens to be the truth.
“Well, you weren’t swimming in an ice-cold lake,” she says and pokes the air with the tip of her finger.
I shrug. “You’re right, I wasn’t.”
“Go ahead and take a cold shower if you want.” She turns back to the fire. “My clothes will probably be ready by the time you get out.”
“No, I’m good, but I’m going to change into shorts.” I grab the pair I’d offered her and make my way to the bathroom. As I pass Brianna, she’s adjusting the thermostat, turning it up higher.
“Keep that up and I’m going to end up in my birthday suit.” I say without thinking and close the bathroom door. What the hell? Get your mind off nakedness. Her soft chuckle reaches my ears and I wonder if she’s really that cold, or if she’s just jacking up the heat to get me out of my clothes. Shit, all she has to do is ask.
Wait, no. I am not going to have sex with Brianna. No way. No how. Not even if she asks.
Okay, maybe if she asks.
Cazzo!
I kick off my pants, and as I glance at my swollen dick, I take it into my hands and consider rubbing one out. In my current state it wouldn’t take long, and Brianna would be none the wiser. I pull from the base to the crown. Heck, I should probably ease the tension before something ruptures.
“Maybe the hot tub will help,” she calls out. The click of the patio door opening reaches my ears, and I close my eyes and try not to visualize her in that hot tub naked.
Again with the nakedness.
“Good idea,” I say. Fuck, is that my voice? I open the bathroom door and walk to the patio just in time to see her peel my shirt from her shoulders and climb into the water. Naked.
My God, she has a beautiful body. Her curves are less pronounced than they were years ago, but she was as breathtaking then as she is now. She settles into the tub, leans her head back and stares up at the night sky.
Not wanting to startle her, I speak quietly, avert my eyes even though she’s covered now by the water frothing from the jets. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Do you have any wine?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” I hurry to the kitchen, and my hands are a bit shaky as I pour her a glass of wine and grab a beer from the fridge. I pop the cap and down half of the liquid in one swallow. With my cock jumping in my shorts, I step outside and the heat of the night falls over me.
“Join me,” she says as I hand her the glass.
I wipe moisture from my brow. “I’m too hot as it is.”
She presses the glass to her parted lips and takes a drink. A drop settles on her bottom lip, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to lean in and lick it away.
I clear my throat and her gaze settles on me. “So, your grandfather is after you to get married,” I say for lack of anything else.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“No.” I settle into one of the Adirondack chairs, and her eyes narrow in on me. “What?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
She lifts her chin slightly. “You don’t know me well enough to make that call. In fact you don’t know me at all.”
I take a pull from the bottle. “I know a few things.”
“Oh?” she says, an almost worried look crossing her face.
“I know you went to Oxford, and that you’re a lawyer. I know you’re Tate’s cousin, and that you two were close growing up. I know you make a mean apple pie.”
“I guess I know a few things about you, too,” she says, almost under her breath.
I lean toward her. “Such as.”
She waves her hand and water splashes over me. “You’re a corporate lawyer and work for my cousin.”
I settle back in my chair. “So, really, you know nothing about me,” I say, a bit relieved. The less anyone knows, the better.
“Well, I also know you like to sneak up on girls when they’re swimming naked.”
I laugh at that, and she laughs with me. “You said you were going back to your room. How was I to know you’d be in my spot?”
“Your spot, huh?” she says.
“Yep. Let’s just say next time you use it, be warned that I might not be such a gentleman.”
Stop fucking flirting, man.
She sits up a little straighter in the tub and I want to punch myself in the face for engaging in sexy banter with her. I need to end this now and get her out of my chalet before I do something I can only regret later.
I open my mouth to tell her it’s time to go but stop when she says, “Maybe I don’t want you to be such a gentleman.”
Perspiration breaks out on my body as her nipples pop above the water line. “Brianna...” I begin, but as my cock thickens, my brain cells stop functioning.
“I think I’m warm now,” she says, and lifts a little more, water splashing around her bare body. Unable to help myself, my gaze drops to her beautiful breasts, and a groan I have no control over crawls out of my throat.
“If you’re warm, then why are your nipples so hard?”
Holy fuck, what the hell are you doing?
My blatantly sexual question takes her by surprise, but she recovers quickly. “The night air. I should probably get inside to warm up by the fire.”
Walk away, Luca. Walk away.
I stand, about to do just that, but my cock has other ideas. Before I can stop myself, I slide into the tub with her, shorts still on. A gasp catches in her throat as I go to my knees in front of her and my gaze latches on to hers.
“Or I could use my mouth to warm you,” I suggest, and when her chest rises and falls, everything in her eyes and her body saying yes, I lean into her and close my lips around her hard nipple.
At first she stiffens beneath my touch, and I wonder if I’ve made a colossal mistake. Have I read this situation wrong? Has she not been coming on to me? I’m about to pull back, but then my name is spilling from her lips, and her hands are circling my head, gripping my hair and holding me to her.
Hell yes.
I swirl my tongue over her turgid bud and draw her deeper into my mouth, sucking and tasting until she’s murmuring something incoherent. A small part of my brain warns me not to start this, but at the moment, the throbbing head between my legs is the one calling the shots. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, it would take this entire village to pull me off her.
Warm water heats my already hot body, and I lift her a bit higher, wanting to see all of her. The night air is warm, so I’m not worried about her getting cold, plus it’s easy to tell she’s burning up. I break the kiss and inch back, take in her glossy, lust-filled eyes.
“Where else are you cold?” I ask as I press my lips to hers. Her mouth parts, welcoming me in, and the second my tongue enters her sweet mouth, need grips my balls.
She moans into my mouth and kisses me back, and I take everything she’s willing to give. I move my mouth to her neck. “You cold here?”
“Yes, very,” she murmurs and leans her head back to give me better access. I lick the long column of her neck and then burrow my face into the soft hollow there. Her hips move restlessly beneath the water, telling me what she wants, and I grip them, hold her still. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “I’ll warm all your cold spots.”
I slide my hand down her hips, grip her thighs and widen them. She whimpers, and her hands go to my shoulders. Her fingers are warm and soft against my skin and I can’t wait to feel them on my dick.
Breathing heavily, I nuzzle her ear and run my fingers up her inner thighs. I touch her clit, circle it, slowly, methodically.
“Yes,” she says on a breathless whisper.
“Cold here, Brianna?” I ask, everything in me dying to get between her legs.
“Freezing,” she says, and unable to wait a second longer, I stand and pull her up with me. Her eyes go wide, and I put my hand back between her legs. “You need my mouth here,” I say, a statement not a question, but she answers with a nod.
“Then we need to get you inside, and get you spread wide open so I can warm you up properly.” I scoop her up, carry her into the stifling heat and set her on the bed, which is facing the fire. “Legs open,” I command in a soft voice.
“Bossy,” she says, and it’s clear to me she’s used to giving orders in the bedroom, not taking them.
“Do it.” Her nipples quiver as she spreads for me, and I meet her glance as I pet her sex lightly. “So cold. It might take hours for me to warm you up.”
“My cousin never said you were bossy, but I do remember hearing something about you being meticulous and working long and hard into the night to get a job done.”
I grin at that, and ever so slowly inch a finger into her. She’s so fucking tight and wet, I nearly explode in my shorts. I finger her for a second and she grows even wetter. “Is this helping?”
“A little...” she murmurs, as her body tightens around my finger. My God, she’s so close, I can’t believe it. I pull my finger out, wanting to prolong her pleasure, and tear my shorts from my body. She goes up on her elbows to see my dick, and her eyes widen when I take my cock into my hands.
“Smart, meticulous and totally equipped to stay up all night to finish the job. I might have just won the man lottery,” she says, and smiles up at me. I smile back, pleased that she likes what she sees.
I climb onto the bed and find her mouth again. As I kiss her, I ease her back until she’s beneath me. She reaches out, captures my dick in her hand and gives me a little squeeze. I brush my thumb over her nipple and make a tsking sound.
“Hard again.” I fall over her, press her into the mattress and find her nipple. I take a long, hard suck until she’s scratching at my back, dragging skin with nails. Damn, that feels good.
“Heating up, Brianna?” I ask around a mouthful of pink sweetness.
“So hot,” she murmurs and lifts her hips, moving her pussy against my stomach and leaving me soaking wet. I shimmy lower and press openmouthed kisses to her stomach and belly button, and when I reach her hot little sex, I blow on it.
She quivers and I press my mouth to her clit, suck it in until she’s jerking beneath me. She swells even more beneath my ministrations, and I slip one finger into her tight core.
“Luca,” she cries out, and bucks against my mouth, a shameless display of need that turns me on even more.
“That’s it,” I say, lifting my mouth from her sex.
“No, please. I’m still—”
Her words fall off when I roll onto my back and drag her until her pussy is positioned right where I want it. “Work your pussy over my mouth. Get it nice and warm for my cock,” I say and flick my tongue out to taste the sweetness dripping from her center.
“Oh God.” She presses down on me and moves her hips, writhing and rotating and soaking my face unabashedly. She’s no sedentary passenger along for the ride between the sheets, and I love that about her. For a buttoned-up girl outside the bedroom, inside, Brianna is a girl who knows what she wants and takes what she needs.
I fuck her with my tongue, and she rubs her clit all over me until her breathing changes. I dip a finger into her core, brush it back and forth over the hot bundle of nerves as I eat at her with all the need unraveling inside me—far too many years in the making.
“Luca,” she cries out as her body breaks, her hot release splashing out of her and dripping down my chin. I drink her in, lap at her, not wanting to miss a drop. She tries to move, but I slide one hand around her and grip her ass. No way is she going anywhere until I’ve had my fill. Then again now that I’ve tasted her, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sate my appetite.
She’s panting and her nails are tugging at the sheet as I take my time, despite the fact that my dick is so hard I’m in agony. I finally clean her and slide out from beneath her body. She rolls over onto her back, and I have to say, that sexy, well-fucked-woman look she’s wearing totally suits her.
My gaze falls to her hard nipples, and she cups her breasts, squeezes them together. “They need my mouth again?” I ask. She shakes her head, mischief in her eyes, and my gaze roams her face. What is she up to?
“They need this,” she says and sits up to grab my throbbing cock. Instantly understanding what she wants, I climb up her body, and she squeezes her beautiful breasts together for me. I do love a woman who doesn’t hold back and makes no qualms about what she wants. I slide my cock between her breasts and thrust forward, into her waiting mouth. Fucking her like this is so goddamn hot, pre-cum spills from my tip, and she laps at it with each upward thrust.
“So good,” I growl as the dual pleasure takes me to the edge fast. I stroke her like this a couple more times, then tear my dick from her perfect tits.
“Time to really warm you up,” I say and grab my pants. I pull a condom from the pocket and rip into it. Brianna goes up on her elbows again to watch me, her gaze latched on to my dick. Gesù, I really like the way she looks at me, like when she finally gets her mouth on my cock, she’s going to worship it.
She crooks her finger, urging me back to her, and I don’t waste any time getting between her legs again. I fall over her, and she wraps her legs around my back, trying to force me inside. But I need to go slowly, or I’m going to blow my load before I even get started.
I give her an inch and her head rolls back. “Yesss,” she hisses, and puts her hands on my shoulders.
“You’re fucking hot,” I say.
“So hot,” she murmurs, her lids falling heavily over dark eyes.
“Maybe you don’t need my cock, then,” I tease, and her eyes open wide. When she catches my grin, she relaxes. “So, you do need it?” I ask, wanting, for some strange reason, to hear her say it.
“Yes, I need it,” she says, and lifts her hips. “I need your cock, so don’t make me wait any longer.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeats, and before she even finishes, I power forward, driving my entire length into her, and seating myself so goddamn high, I’m sure I’ve reached heaven.
“Luca,” she cries out, and curls forward as I fill her. Her muscles tighten around my girth, her liquid heat coating my cock.
I move my hips and slide in and out of her, creating friction until we’re both panting, our skin ridiculously hot to the touch.
“This,” she begins and then swallows hard. She tries to speak again, but her words catch in her throat.
“This feel good?”
She nods and whimpers as I angle my body for deeper thrusts. “Oh...” she manages to get out as I slide a hand between our bodies and toy with her clit. Her body vibrates around my dick, and I clench down on my teeth, struggling to hang on. I want this to be amazing for her, because this is a one-time thing. Some working brain cell reminds me it has to be.
“Are you going to stay out of my swimming hole?” I ask as I slam home, my balls slapping her body with each thrust. She shakes her head and a groan catches in my throat. “What about my warning?”
“Don’t...care,” she croaks out, her voice broken.
“I told you I won’t be a gentleman next time.” She quivers harder, liking this little game I’m playing with her.
Her eyes flash. “And I told you I don’t want you to.”
“Then I won’t be so nice again.”
“What...what will you do?”
I drive into her, slam her against the mattress, my dick ready to explode. Heat zaps my balls and they tighten as I think about bending her over a log and taking her in the woods. “A naked woman in the woods, warned to stay away and choosing not to. Well, that woman might just find herself up against the Big Bad Wolf if she’s not careful.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, she comes all over my cock. I pinch my eyes shut as her heat seeps into my body, burns me from the inside out.
“Fuck,” I murmur, and bury my face in her neck as she rides out the gripping waves. I pull out, slam back in again, and with her last few clenches, I let go on a growl.
As I come and come and come, I collapse on top of her and breathe in the sweet smell of her skin. We’re both panting, taking deep, labored breaths, and we stay like that until my cock grows soft. I inch out of her, then I pull her to me, hold her close. For the last few months I’ve been all work and no play, but now that I’ve played with Brianna, I can’t help but want more. As I think about that, my cock starts thickening again. Brianna shimmies away, but I reach for her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask as I pull her on top of me.
She looks over her shoulder, glances at the door. “I was—”
I drag her mouth to mine, kiss her deeply. No way is she getting out of here tonight. My cock grows against her body and she moans her approval. Oh yeah, we’re going to fuck until the sun comes up.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
HOW COULD I have been so stupid?
I shake my head and give myself a good hard lecture for falling for Luca’s charm and letting him seduce me into his bed. Or was it the other way around? I’m not sure. All I know is I was supposed to turn him on and leave him hanging, like he did to me all those years ago. I groan and pound the bed, but settle myself back down when Luca comes back from the bathroom. Shit, I wanted to be out of here before he finished. I close my eyes, pretend I’m sleeping until I can figure out what to do next, how to get myself out of this.
Yeah, I made a mistake last night, but goddammit the sex was good. Better than good. It was fan-freaking-tastic. The best sex I’ve ever had. The second he put his mouth on my nipple, I had planned to put a stop to things, tell him who I was and bolt. But did I do that? Of course not. How could I? No one has ever worked my nipples quite like that before. I knew I had to see it through. Why shouldn’t I take what I want, on my terms? Unfortunately those terms weren’t supposed to include a stupid sleepover.
The edge of the mattress dips, and I inch one eye open to find Luca sitting on the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Morning,” he says. “Coffee?”
“Like you even have to ask.” He grins and hands the mug over. I take a much-needed sip. “Thank you. You will be rewarded in heaven,” I say. He stands and my gaze roams his body. This morning he’s dressed in nothing but his jeans. Dammit, what is it about a guy in nothing but jeans that turns me on? Okay, maybe it’s just Luca in jeans that does that.
Time to go.
I push the blankets off me, and that’s when I realize I’m stark naked. I grab the sheet and haul it back up.
Luca angles his head. “I’ve seen you naked, Bri,” he says.
“It’s Brianna.”
He grins. “I’ve seen you naked, Brianna. And I’ve been inside you. It’s a little late to cover up, don’t you think?” He grips the sheet and slowly drags it down my body. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
Old hurts come back in a crushing wave. He didn’t think so years ago, couldn’t see that I was more than just a chubby freshman. “I should go.”
He frowns. “Was it something I said?”
“No. I should go. Tate and the others will be wondering where I am.” I climb from the bed, and Luca’s moan of appreciation fills the room as I saunter to the dryer and grab my clothes. I hurry to the bathroom and dress. Great. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, and from one look at me it’s easy to tell I’ve been up having sex all night. I somehow have to get to my room without anyone seeing me. This...whatever this was...is not something I want to explain, or repeat.
Liar.
Okay, okay, maybe I do want a repeat—why bother denying it?—but it’s not going to happen.
Oh, but it did once, and it was so damn good.
All righty then. On that note I step from the bathroom and glance around to find Luca in the kitchen. I take another sip of coffee and set my cup on the counter. I’m about to slip out when Luca points a spatula at me.
“Sit.”
Ribbons of need swirl through me at his assertiveness. I’m not sure what that’s all about. I’m the one who’s always in control, always calling the shots, but last night when he took charge of me, it awakened something needy inside me, something I never even knew existed.
“You’re not going anywhere until I feed you. What kind of guy do you think I am, anyway?”
Oh, if he only knew.
“I don’t normally eat breakfast,” I say, but glance over at the counter to see what smells so good. My stomach takes that moment to grumble.
“Maybe not, but we worked up quite the appetite last night and you’re going to eat.”
“Maybe I work up an appetite like that every night,” I say, having no doubt he does the same himself. I remember his reputation back at Oxford.
He flips the pancake, turns and leans back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankle. Seriously, could he make the pose look any sexier? I want to tell him to put a shirt on already, but I don’t want him to know the true effect his near nakedness has on me.
“Is that right?” he asks.
“That’s right.”
“Is that why you don’t want to get married? You like having a different guy in your bed every night?” He shrugs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just curious.” He flips the pancakes again and then plates them, sliding them across the island. I breathe in the delicious smell as he grabs the syrup.
“Why so curious?” I ask as I pour a generous amount of syrup over my pancakes.
“It’s the lawyer in me.”
“It’s the lawyer in me that keeps me single.”
He forks a big bite into his mouth, chews and then says, “How so?”
“I’m a divorce lawyer. I see the worst in people all the time, and if you know anything about my family, the guys move from woman to woman constantly.” Tate’s dad, Uncle Don, is the latest example. He married his fourth wife several months ago. Half the family didn’t bother skipping work to attend. Carson family weddings have become so run-of-the-mill... Sounds scornful but it’s the truth.
“Tate’s not like that.”
I smile. “No, he’s one of the good guys.”
“Then you’re saying there are good guys out there?”
I laugh. “Way to twist my words. You must win a lot of cases.”
“I win enough.” He takes another bite, lounging against the island.
“You really don’t want to get married. I never would have guessed that about you,” he says, redirecting the conversation back to me.
“I don’t do relationships, don’t do love and I don’t sleep with the same guy twice. Believe me, I know happily-ever-after doesn’t exist. I see that every day.”
A moment of silence as he absorbs that, and then he says, “Your job is doing a number on you. Do you even like what you do?”
I take a long moment to think about it. “Some days, I guess.”
“You did family law at Oxford?”
A question, not a statement, but I answer anyway. “That’s right.”
“I wonder if we ever ran into each other, attended any of the same parties.”
“The guys in their Oxford hoodies.” I wave my fork. “I couldn’t tell one apart from the other. You all looked alike.”
“Ah, the hoodies. They were all the rage back then. I wore mine to every party.”
“I remember,” I say. Then when his eyes lift to mine, I add, “I mean I remember the hoodies. I don’t remember you in one at any party.” Wow, for a girl who hates to lie, I’m really nailing it here. “By the way, these pancakes are delicious,” I add, wanting to change the conversation.
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Cathryn Fox
The hottest man I've ever hated… The hottest sex I've ever had! As a lawyer who picks up the pieces of broken relationships, my number one dating rule is: no emotions. Until I come face-to-face with Luca Marino at a wedding. The aristocratic Italian sex-god humiliated me years ago—and doesn’t recognize me after my transformation from the shy, overweight girl I once was. Now’s my chance for deliciously hot payback, but it means breaking my golden rule…
From New York Times bestselling author Cathryn Fox—a deliciously hot Harlequin DARE!
Once is always enough...or is it?
As someone who picks up the pieces of broken relationships every day, my dating rule is firm: no emotions. But Luca Marino isn’t the kind of guy who plays by the rules. He never was... In our Oxford days, he was gorgeous, gregarious...popular. Too popular to care that he humiliated a shy, overweight girl who worshipped the ground he walked on. Well, I’m a different person now—successful, with the expensive hair, makeup and clothes to match. But Luca...well, he seems exactly the same.
Now the man I hate is the best man for my cousin’s luxurious St. Moritz wedding...and it’s time for some red-hot payback.
The sex is definitely hot. The wild, sweaty, forget-your-evil-revenge kind that lasts all night. From the moment we touch, raw energy takes over, and I hand over all control. And, oh, I like it. But when I lie to my ailing grandfather and announce I am engaged—to Luca—all hell breaks loose.
Just this once, I’ll break my rule. But giving in to Luca once is dangerous enough. What happens if I give in to his terms for a second time...and risk falling hard for the guy I swore to hate?
New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author CATHRYN FOX is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, aunt and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie), pizza and red wine. Cathryn lives in beautiful Nova Scotia with her husband, who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. When not writing, Cathryn can be found Skyping with her son, who lives in Seattle (could he have moved any further away?), shopping with her daughter in the city, watching a big action flick with her husband, or hanging out and laughing with friends.
On Her Terms
Cathryn Fox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08696-7
ON HER TERMS
© 2019 Cathryn Fox
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Heather Veinotte, friend, big sister, confidante.
Thanks for letting me bounce this one off you, for
helping me get the facts straight and for reading the
very first rough draft.
Love you!
Contents
Cover (#uad7fc3a2-0f4d-51d4-a4ea-a715a8faea06)
Back Cover Text (#u71a82fa1-fc62-50fc-9295-6fab994c0fa1)
About the Author (#u9128fa9e-4cf1-54e7-9dbb-33b06d787272)
Title Page (#u96a5516b-6f33-5a03-b80b-cef23b144e96)
Copyright (#u6a9731a7-ca4b-5cce-b959-16606b488e69)
Dedication (#u38d37055-48b7-5f70-b82e-bf09a9a1802b)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc6cf4414-98b8-54fe-8b53-0e1bd233eff8)
CHAPTER TWO (#uffa4f594-0f71-5e50-92cc-326da77dbdb9)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6c6a49c3-ac8d-5f39-aa3f-64d2156b33e5)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u4dbc3623-7926-581a-9828-d5a67297a9a9)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ucc7050b4-a5c9-5926-9ca3-1198d137eb0a)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
“COME ON, COME ON, come on,” I say under my breath as the cabbie slowly drives his car. We wind through the streets of St. Moritz, the gorgeous Alpine town where my cousin Tate is getting married—he’s no doubt wondering where I am.
I glance at my watch and groan inwardly. I hate being late. Absolutely hate it. I actually pride myself on my punctuality, but divorce court ran late, and that left me running to the airport to board Granddad’s private plane. By the time I took my seat, the Learjet had been waiting on the tarmac for hours. Granddad’s personal flight attendant gave me the once-over. Probably because I looked like I’d just come from the rinse cycle and had been hung upside down on the line to dry. Although I’m anything but dry, thanks to the turbulent flight and the humid summer air way up here in the Alps.
I pull my damp blouse away from my skin and steal a quick glance at my watch again. Dammit, the bridal party dinner started fifteen minutes ago, and Tate—considerate man that he is—would have held the meal for me. A double dose of guilt hits at having so many people waiting, because I got tied up, and now I’m in a cab with a whistling driver who is moving at a snail’s pace. The New Yorker in me wants to jump in the front seat and press down on the gas pedal. Hard.
“Relax, we’re almost there,” the cabdriver says, clearly picking up on my tension. He waves a hand. “Look around. Enjoy the view. No one can feel anything but peaceful when surrounded by such beauty,” he says in a heavy French accent that’s almost difficult to understand.
I exhale a slow breath and look out the window. My God, I’d forgotten just how magnificent the high Alpine town really is, how it’s unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been. I marvel at the sun-kissed mountains, their peaks white, even in summer. My gaze travels to the towering Palace Hotel positioned over Lake St. Moritz. I smile as old memories bombard me. As a teen, I spent a lot of time here with Granddad and Tate, especially after my dad left and my mom disengaged from life. But thinking of Granddad brings on another blast of guilt.
Over the last few years, his health has been failing, which is why Tate recently moved his law practice from Boston to Manhattan to be closer to him. I’ve been so damn busy at work, putting in sixteen-hour days to prove I’m partner material at the firm, I haven’t been around as much as I’d like to be. Then again when I am around, Granddad spends most of the time grilling me about when I’m getting married.
I’m not.
Ever.
A garbled sound crawls out of my throat, and I catch the cabbie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Seriously though, I’m a divorce lawyer. I face couples squaring off against each other every day, and I’ve come to learn that what starts as love always turns to greed and hate. If that’s not enough to make me jaded, all I have to do is look in my own backyard. Most of the men in my family have a penchant for younger women and are never able to settle down for very long, hence the ironclad prenuptials they always have drawn up. On top of that, the last guy I dated seriously turned out to be a two-timing asshole. And of course I can’t forget the sting of rejection from that one notorious guy during my University of Oxford undergraduate years. A gorgeous Italian god every girl wanted. One incident was all it took for that arrogant stuffed shirt to shake my confidence for years afterward.
Cynical much? Oh yeah, like 100 percent. Now when I’m with a man, it’s on my terms. No love. No romance. Just physical one-night stands with no tomorrows. That’s how I like it, and whether Granddad approves or not, he has no choice but to accept it.
“We’re here,” the driver says as he slows his car down in front of Raydolins Hotel, one of the many opulent resorts my granddad owns here. I grab some bills from my purse and quickly hand them over. The cabbie slides from his seat and pulls my luggage from the trunk, and I slip from the back seat and check my reflection in the car window. When I take in the hot mess that is me—Brianna Carson—I cringe.
My hair is a big ball of frizz, and no amount of spray can fix that in this humidity. I swipe at the black smudges beneath my heavy-lidded eyes and only manage to make matters worse. Great, now I look like an angry raccoon jacked up on pain meds. Maybe a bit of lipstick will help brighten me up. Then again I’m not here to impress anyone. I wish I had time to shower and change, but I’m not about to keep Tate or his guests waiting a second longer.
“Relax. Enjoy it while you can. You’ll be back in New York before you know it,” the cabdriver says. As he saunters back to his car, I can’t help but feel a tinge of envy. My life is fast-paced, hectic and mostly chaotic. I wish I could be so laid-back. Cripes, if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up having a heart attack before I hit twenty-eight next month, and for what, really? Am I really making this world a better place? Doing work that is meaningful?
I grab my bag and head inside. The bellboy opens the door as I approach and the cool air washes over me. I widen my arms and let loose a grateful moan. I hurry to the registration desk, sign in quickly and leave my bag for the concierge to take to my room.
My heels tap on the marble floor as I pick up the pace and head to the dining room where the private function is being held. Before I enter, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly and plaster on a smile. I step inside, work to present a well-put-together woman, and search the long table for Tate. When he sees me, he jumps up, comes over and picks me up in a crushing hug.
“I’m so sorry, Tate. I got tied up, and the cabbie—”
“Hey, stop. It’s okay,” he says, and when I take in his big smile, my heart beats a little faster. I’ve never seen him happier, and that warms me from the inside out. Summer Love, his beautiful fiancée, has been so good for him, and he deserves all the happiness life has to offer. Still, there is a small part of me that worries about their future. They’ve only been together for six months. Is that enough time for a strong bond to build? Lord knows love can become venomous pretty quickly. At least I know Summer isn’t marrying for money, and Tate is one of the good guys. That doesn’t stop me from throwing up a silent prayer for him, a request that he doesn’t end up like the other men in our family, with a long list of exes.
“Come on. Everyone will be so happy to see you,” he murmurs over the din of the crowd as he puts his arm around my waist to guide me across the floor.
I glance at the elegant table with its crisp white linen, fine china and crystal glasses. The wine has been flowing, but no food has been served. “Yeah, only because they’re starving,” I shoot back.
Tate laughs and it’s so exuberant, I can’t help but laugh with him.
“What’s so funny?” Granddad asks as Tate pulls out the empty chair beside him.
“Oh, nothing,” I say and give my grandfather a big hug before I take a seat. I glance around, take in a few familiar faces of my relatives and offer up a smile to the table. My eyes track Tate as he moves to the head of the table and drops a kiss onto his fiancée’s lips before smoothing his hand over his tie, a familiar habit.
“Where’s your plus-one?” Granddad asks, and I suppress a sigh.
“I came alone,” I say and smile at him.
He lifts a gnarled, arthritic hand and shakes a finger at me. “I can’t wait forever, Brianna. I don’t have a lot of time left, you know.”
My stomach drops. Honestly, I wish I wasn’t so jaded. I wish I could fulfill a dying man’s wish, but I’m not about to enter into marriage only to go through the pain of divorce, just to please my grandfather.
“Granddad—”
“I worry about you, Brianna.” His once-syrupy voice cracks and he coughs into the crook of his arm. He hacks for a few seconds, and then he turns to me and adds, “It’s not natural to be alone.”
He would know. He had a slew of younger women over the years. But who am I to judge? After Grandma—his one and only true love—died, it was good to see him happy again, have someone help fill that void.
He frowns at me and my heart sinks into my stomach as I take in the deep lines bracketing troubled eyes. I’ve never seen him look so old or tied, completely worn out. The trip here must have been hard on him, but he insisted that Tate have his wedding at the resort and that he was well enough to travel. Looking at him now, I’m not so sure he’ll last the week. My heart squeezes. Granddad has always been good to me. He was there for me when Dad walked out on us, and again when I lost Mom a few years ago. He taught me the value of hard work and supported me when I moved across the pond to attend Oxford. He even visited me when I was lonely. Jeez, maybe I should tell a fib, pretend I have someone just to please him and ease his worries.
Should I?
I mean, what could it hurt, right? Let him think I have a man, give him peace of mind during the wedding. Like he said, he doesn’t have much time left, and I don’t want to see him spend the rest of his days needlessly worrying over me.
I place my napkin on my lap and take a big drink of wine after the server fills my glass. Here goes nothing. “Granddad, this isn’t the time or place to be talking about this, but you can put your worries to rest. I’m seeing someone, and it’s serious. In fact, we’re engaged.” What the hell? That was too far, Bri.
His cloudy blue eyes light up, and weathered lips curl up into a smile. “Tell me all about him,” he says and leans back in his chair.
I open my mouth, ready to spill more lies. Did I mention I hate lying as much as I hate being late? Yet here I am, batting two for two. I’m about to tell him some fabricated story about my Prince Charming when Tate stands and taps his crystal stemware with a spoon. All eyes turn to him, including Granddad’s.
Thank God!
“Now that we’re all here,” he begins, and heat moves into my cheeks as he winks playfully at me. “I’d like to do a round of introductions.”
He begins with his beautiful fiancée, who is beaming up at her soon-to-be husband. An invisible band tightens around my heart, and tears prick my eyes, but then I quickly remind myself I want no part of love or marriage. Nope, it’s just hit it and quit it for me, as crude as that sounds.
Tate goes around the table, talks about how he met those in his bridal party and adds a fun little story about each person. When he gets to me—the last bridesmaid—I nibble my lip with trepidation. The stories the man could tell about me would be humiliating at best. But instead of embarrassing me, he introduces me as his closest cousin, and goes on to let everyone know that I make a mean apple pie, which is a total lie. Then again the pie might have turned out just fine, if I hadn’t burnt the kitchen down baking it.
Granddad laughs at the inside joke as Tate knowingly grins at me. He continues the introductions, and I crane my neck to see around Uncle Bill, who’s seated to my right. Tate reaches the last man at the table, the one sitting on his left, and I pick up my glass to take a drink.
“This guy here is my right-hand man,” Tate says. “Most of you don’t know him. He joined my law firm just a couple of months ago, and not only did we hit it off the first time I met him here in the Alps, I don’t know what I’d do without him by my side in the office. He’s smart, meticulous and works long and hard into the night to get a job done. I’m happy to introduce Luca Marino, my best man.”
Luca Marino!
Wine sloshes over the edge of my crystal stemware as my hand shakes. I forcefully swallow the lump climbing into my throat and set my glass down before I drop it. I must be wrong. I have to be wrong. No way could the man seated to Tate’s left be the Luca Marino, the Italian jerk who rejected me in college. What are the odds Tate would even know him?
As my pulse beats double time against my neck, I slowly stand to see over my uncle’s head, but the bottom falls out of my world when my gaze settles on the most gorgeous man I’ve ever set eyes on—Mr. Arrogant-Stuffed-Shirt himself.
CHAPTER TWO (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Luca
BRIANNA CARSON IS Tate’s cousin?
Brianna Carson is Tate’s cousin!
I try to wrap my brain around that, but I still can’t quite believe it. I never put it together before, and why would I? I haven’t seen her since our University of Oxford days, and after I walked her home from a party one night, she went out of her way to avoid me. I’m not sure what I did or said to piss her off, and while I would’ve liked to have talked to her to find out, there was never an opportunity. She made sure of that.
As I meet Brianna’s gaze from the other end of the table, my entire body grows tight. Raw energy arcs between us, and I suck in a fast breath as she wobbles slightly, like the sight of me has completely caught her off guard, too. I catch a flicker of recognition in her eyes, but then she offers up a polite, somewhat distant smile and turns away. Wait, maybe she doesn’t remember me. Could I have imagined that flash of familiarity? I’m not sure, but I sure as hell would never forget her. She might have lost a bit of weight and changed her hairstyle and hair color, but I’d know sexy Brianna Carson anywhere.
Oh, how I’d wanted to take her to her bed that night, put my hands and mouth all over her curvy body. Do all the dirty things that had been racing around my brain when I first set eyes on her in my senior year. The sight of her now is stirring up all of those hot images and urging me to do something about it. Why again did I walk away, leaving her alone in her dorm room? Oh right—she’d been drinking. I might be a lot of things, but I’d never take advantage of a girl who’d had one too many.
Tate nudges me. I’ve been so lost in thought, I missed what he was asking me. “What’s that?” I say.
Tate laughs. “Where were you?” he asks as a handful of servers begin setting our meals in front of us.
I look down at the roast beef dinner in front of me. “Work,” I fib. “Just thinking about some figures I’d like to go over.” Okay, not a total lie. I was thinking about Bri’s curvy figure and how I’d like to go over it—with my tongue. My dick swells and presses against my zipper.
Cazzo!
Get it together. This is not the time or place to be sporting a hard-on!
“You need to take this week off and relax, my friend. Put work behind you and have some fun. That’s an order.” Tate leans closer, his words for my ears only. “What you need is to get laid, buddy.”
I laugh. “You’re probably right.” I recently moved from St. Moritz to New York to help Tate get his law business off the ground. Then I buried myself in work, enjoying life outside my duties back in Italy for a little while longer.
I’ve been avoiding those for years now, ever since my dad and brother died in a car accident three years ago. Even before that, I hid my identity from the world for a long time. Not even Tate knows who I really am—a duke. People treat me differently once they know, and while I can probably trust my friend, past experiences have taught me every woman wants to be my duchess, not because of love but because of prominence.
I can’t avoid duty much longer, though. The letter in my suit-coat pocket is a burning reminder of that. With my father gone, along with my older brother, Matteo, the family legacy falls to me. That includes the dukedom and the family conglomerates. Uncle Giovanni is overseeing things for now, but if I don’t meet the stipulations of my father’s will and marry his best friend’s daughter before I turn thirty this year, the controlling shares of my father’s conglomerates will go to my eldest cousin, Marco. I can’t let that happen. He’ll blow through the entire Marino fortune in no time, destroy everything my father built.
“This looks amazing,” Summer says, and with that we all dig into our meals. Small talk is made as the courses are served one after the other. Over an hour later, after the dessert dishes are cleared, we all head to the bar area for a drink. I search the crowd for Brianna and find her talking to Tate, but every now and then she casts a fast glance my way. Only problem is, whenever she finds me staring she tears her gaze away. At least that gives me the opportunity to blatantly look her over, revel in the way her formfitting skirt clings to her hips, the way she fiddles with the button on her blouse. A nervous little habit I remember from years ago. I’m not even sure she knows she’s doing it, but it does beg the question, what is sexy Brianna Carson so damn worked up about?
“Can I get a whiskey neat,” I say to the bartender as I shrug out of my suit jacket and place it over the back of the stool before I settle myself onto the plush seat.
Summer comes up to me and puts her hand on my shoulder. I turn to her and she offers up a smile. “Hey, Summer,” I say and drop a kiss onto her cheek. “You look beautiful tonight.” She angles her head and narrows her big eyes, her curious gaze moving over my face. “What?” I ask and shift a little on the chair.
She taps her nails on the bar top. “Do you and Brianna know each other?”
I shake my head and grin. Leave it to Summer to notice the tension between us. As a doctor, she’s pretty good at picking up on subtleties, and there isn’t much anyone can get by her. I’m about to open my mouth to answer, when Tate slides his arm around his fiancée’s waist.
“I was wondering the same thing,” he says, and that’s when I notice Brianna coming up behind him, avoiding my gaze as she signals the bartender for a drink.
“Brianna,” I say, and she settles a polite gaze on me.
“Luca, isn’t it?” She turns to Tate. “Sorry, I was so jet-lagged when you did the introductions, I wasn’t sure if I caught the right name.”
“Ah, so you two don’t know each other, then,” Summer says, but from the way her gaze is going back and forth between the two of us, I’m not so sure she’s convinced of that.
There was a time I would’ve liked to have known Brianna. A girl like her, well, she could make me forget my responsibilities to my family in Italy. If life were different, I would’ve gone for her, made her mine. But I didn’t date while I was at Oxford, not when I’d have to subject a woman to the rigidity of my title and obligations.
“Why would we know each other?” Brianna asks and smooths her hand over her thick chestnut hair. For a second I envision my hands in that tangled mess, tugging on those long strands until her mouth opens for me. What I’d do to finally taste her, finish what we never got the chance to start all those years ago. But I’m not about to start something I still can’t finish. Brianna deserves better than that. She deserves her own Prince Charming, not a duke who’s already spoken for. For the last few years, Valentina has been waiting in the wings, eager to walk me down the aisle and become my duchess. I haven’t seen the woman in years. Who the fuck does arranged marriages anymore, anyway? I never thought in a million years that my father would put such a stipulation in his will.
“You both went to Oxford Law,” Tate says. He gives a shrug of one shoulder and adds, “Then again it’s a big campus, and Luca was probably a year or two ahead of you.” The overhead lights dim, and the music picks up. Tate turns to Summer. “Dance with me.” She smiles up at her fiancé, and I grin. Those two were made for each other. I knew it the first time she came into the bar here in St. Moritz, where Tate and I were working six months ago. He was undercover as a bartender, trying to prove Summer was a fraud who was out to steal billions from his granddad. At the time, I was hanging out in the Swiss Alps, enjoying the commoner’s life. For years now I’ve been travelling around, doing odd jobs, trying to live a full life before duty catches up to me and I have to settle into my rightful position as Luca Marino, Duke of Massara.
Brianna opens her mouth, no doubt to excuse herself, when her granddad’s cane hits the floor as he saunters up to the bar. “I’ll have a brandy,” he says.
“Granddad, I don’t think you should be drinking,” Brianna says.
He waves a dismissive hand her way. “Foolishness, child. I’ve got more brandy in these veins than blood. Now, what’s this I hear about you two knowing each other?”
I shake my head, having no idea how he could have heard us from the other side of the room. He settles himself onto the stool next to me, and the bartender slides him a drink. He drains the amber liquid in one easy swallow, slams his glass on the mahogany top and then gestures for another.
“We don’t know each other,” Brianna says quickly, her gaze darting to mine, like she’s worried I might claim otherwise.
“Well then, get out there on the dance floor and start getting to know each other, already.”
Brianna briefly closes her eyes, and I catch something in Granddad’s smile, something that looks an awful lot like mischief. What is the old man up to? Tate told me his grandfather was behind him and Summer meeting and falling for each other. I look him over, take in the statuesque way he carries himself. Something tells me he’s not as frail and sick as he lets on. Maybe the others can’t see it because they’re too close. But I sense there is something more going on with James Carson.
“I’m tired, Granddad. It was a long flight and an even longer day. I just want to go back to my room and call it a night.”
“I’m headed out, too,” I say, picking up on the tension between Brianna and her grandfather. Wanting to help her out, I add, “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“That’s okay,” she says quickly, her smile forced. “I forgot a few things and have to hit up the gift shop.” She drops a kiss onto her granddad’s cheek and hurries from the room, once again avoiding my gaze and pretending she doesn’t know me. Although I’m pretty goddamn sure she does. What the hell is going on with her?
“I guess I should call it a night, too,” I say to James as he downs another ounce of brandy. “I have some forms I need to go over.”
“I just bet you do,” James says to me, an almost sinister smile quirking his lips, like he’s been inside my head all night and knows all the dirty things pinging around in my brain. I can’t imagine he’d be too happy with my thoughts, considering Brianna is his granddaughter.
Tate and Summer come back to check on their granddad and I use that opportunity to excuse myself. I leave the room and head outside. I’ve opted to stay in one of the family’s chalets instead of the grand hotel. I have always preferred the solitude.
I nod to a group of women as they wave to me, and keep my head down as I make my way to my cottage. The warmth of the night falls over me, and my clothes stick to my skin. Since I know the resort like the back of my hand, I turn left instead of right. Forgoing rest, I take one of the lesser-known paths that leads up the mountain. There are plenty of suitable swimming lakes scattered throughout the town, but this high up on the hill, most are untouched. The frigid temperatures a bit too much for visitors. The wind picks up as I climb, and I dodge a few puddles, compliments of the afternoon downpour. I start to unbutton my shirt, tug it away from my body, anxious to jump into the water to cool myself down. But that’s when I realize I left my suit jacket back at the hotel. Good thing I brought a couple of extras.
The path narrows, and up ahead a bunny scurries into the underbrush. The temperature has dropped significantly, but I don’t mind. As I approach my favorite private spot, I’m about to unzip my pants, but humming reaches my ears. What the hell? Only Tate and I know about this place, and he’s back at the hotel. I slow my steps, not wanting to frighten whoever happened to stumble upon my spot, but when I see a pile of clothes on the ground, my heart jumps into my throat. That skirt. That blouse. A certain woman from my past was wearing those tonight.
CHAPTER THREE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
I CAN’T FOR one minute believe that Luca and Tate know each other, let alone work together. I dunk myself under the cold water, letting it cool my heated body—which just might have more to do with the man I hate than the humidity of the night. Luca Marino is a complete and utter asshole, but my body can’t deny he’s as gorgeous today as he was all those years ago. Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. Back in the day he was a boy who looked good in his blue Oxford hoodie. Today he’d fill that sweater out like a man. Damned if I wouldn’t like to see that.
Heat trickles through my blood despite the frigid water, and I swim from one side to the other, my mind going back to that mortifying night he walked me to my room and left me there. Alone. Every girl in my dorm wanted Luca Marino, myself included. I’d seen the women he gravitated toward and as a chubby girl, I never thought I had a chance with him. Until that one party.
He’d been wearing that comfortable hoodie, and he had smiled at me. At first I thought he was looking at someone else, but when I turned, no one was behind me. My girlfriend encouraged me to go for it, and I was so damn nervous, I kept drinking. With enough alcohol to cloud my judgement, I sauntered up to him. This was it—I’d finally have a real conversation with him. We talked for a few minutes and he asked where I lived. I totally freaked out, inwardly of course. The Luca Marino wanted to know where I lived! I told him and as he walked me back to my dorm, I could barely put one foot in front of the other. Not because I’d been drinking but because I was going to have the night I’d been fantasizing about forever, with the man of my dreams, and come tomorrow I’d be the one wearing his sweater, a symbol of our relationship. I stepped into my room, and when I turned back to him, he was pulling his phone from his pocket and closing the door in my face.
I can just imagine he was calling his friends. I wonder if they all had a good laugh about it afterward. Let the chubby girl think you’re into her, and then dump her at her door. Was it some kind of cruel prank? One nasty rumor spread around my dorm after that night certainly had suggested that.
Goddammit, I was such a cliché.
Stop thinking about him.
Needing to clear my head, I begin humming, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get that man out of my thoughts. A laugh I have no control over bubbles in my throat. I went out of my way to avoid him on campus until he graduated at the end of that year. But there’s no avoiding him here, now is there? Nope. We’re in the same bridal party, for God’s sake.
After the introductions, I panicked and pretended not to know him. He didn’t correct me, which leads me to believe he doesn’t remember me. Why would he? Since graduating law school a few years back, I lost the weight and changed my hair. Inside, I’m no longer that shy, self-conscious girl, either. Though I can’t deny that even as I moved on, I never forgot him or that experience. It took me a while to feel confident on a date afterward. Meanwhile I’m sure he hasn’t given me a thought. As I consider that, my mind races down a dark path, calculates all the ways I could get back at him for humiliating me. Maybe I could get him to take me back to his place and then walk away, the same way he walked away from me. It’s juvenile for sure, but maybe revenge would help me finally get him out of my head once and for all.
Exhausted, I stop swimming and climb from the lake. I shiver as the cool mountain air washes over me. I should have brought a towel but I ran from the hotel so fast, needing a reprieve from Luca, I never thought to grab one. I fold my hands over my naked body and go in search of my clothes. Wind whips over me, and I dart a glance around, combing the exact spot I left them.
I shake my head when my hunt comes up empty. “What the hell?”
“Looking for these?”
My head jerks up to find Luca standing close, his outstretched arm holding my clothes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask and snatch the clothes from his hand. At least he has the decency to keep his eyes closed. “Turn around,” I say. He does as I ask, and I struggle into my clothes, a difficult task with my body dripping wet. I fight with my skirt and finally get it over my damp hips.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says. “Bri, isn’t it?”
Okay, he’s either messing with me, or he really doesn’t remember who I am. “Brianna. My friends call me Bri. What are you doing here?”
“I came for a swim. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”
“How do you know about this place?”
“Tate showed it to me.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. I hurry into my blouse and button it. “Okay, you can turn around now.” He slowly turns, and his heated gaze rakes over my body, a slow, leisurely inspection that steals the air from my lungs. He presses his thumb to his bottom lip, and when his head lifts and his eyes meet mine, I damn near bite off my tongue.
My mind quickly revisits my juvenile plan. From the way he’s looking at me, I have no doubt I could get him to take me to his bed. But isn’t that just like this type of guy? Only interested in me now because I fit his standards. My ex, Ryan, was the same way, telling me I was beautiful one day and then hounding me when I gained a pound or wore something he didn’t like. I squash my anger and slowly blink my lashes, trying my best to be flirtatious, but that’s so out of my wheelhouse, I’m not sure I can pull it off.
“I should get out of your way then, let you have a swim,” I say and let my lashes fall slowly, hoping I’m giving him all the right signals.
Curiosity moves into his eyes as he angles his head, his gaze raking over my face. He probably thinks I’ve escaped the asylum. One minute I’m raging on him, and the next I’m doing my best to be flirty.
A cool breeze washes over me, and my teeth clamp together. “You’re freezing,” he says. While I want to shoot back with, way to state the obvious, I bite my sharp response and hug myself tighter. “Come here.”
He steps up to me and drags me to him. My face goes to his chest, and I breathe in the clean, soapy scent of his skin. His natural aroma, combined with a hint of cologne—likely named Panty Remover—makes me want to do just that. Holy God, no man should ever smell this good. I breathe deeply, fill my lungs with his scent, and then hold my breath.
He runs his hands up and down my arms, creating heat with friction, but I only shiver harder. Although I’m not so sure the goose bumps breaking out on my flesh are from the cold this time.
“You need to get off this mountain and inside somewhere warm,” he says and steps back. I wince at the dismissal. So much for my efforts. His fingers go to the last buttons on his shirt. I turn toward the path, giving him his privacy to undress and swim. “What are you doing?” he asks.
I turn back toward him. “Going back to the...” My words fall off when he peels the shirt from his shoulders, exposing a beautiful bronzed body and a six-pack my fingers suddenly itch to touch.
“Here.” He closes the distance between us and wraps me in his shirt. Warmth sinks into my bones as he throws his arm around me and guides me down the hill.
I probably shouldn’t be touched by the gentlemanly gesture. Once an ass, always an ass, right? Which begs the question: Now that I’ve got his attention, should I go through with my plan of payback?
The air warms as we descend, and night is fully upon us by the time we reach the village. My body is still quivering, and so is the needy juncture between my legs. Jeez, with the way I’m reacting, I’m not so sure I could seduce him and walk away.
You hate this guy, Bri. He humiliated you.
“I’m still so cold,” I say.
“Let’s hurry. You’re staying at the hotel with the others, right?”
“Yes, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m in one of the chalets.” He points off in the distance, but I know where the chalets are located. I’ve stayed in them many times over the years.
“Maybe we should go there,” I say. “It’s closer, and I’m afraid I’m going to freeze to death.”
He goes still, and his brow furrows as he stares off into the distance, like his mind is a million miles away.
“Luca?” I ask. “It is Luca, right?”
“Yeah, that’s what my friends call me,” he says, a small grin on his face. Touché. “Come on. I’ll get you warmed up and then see you back to your hotel.”
With his arm still around me, he guides me down a narrow path leading to his chalet. He opens the door for me and guides me in. The place is perfectly neat, much of what I’d expect from a guy like him.
“So tidy,” I say, walking down the hall leading into the main area, which has a kitchen, island and dining table on one side of the big room. I glance to the left to take in a sofa facing a fireplace. Beyond that there is a big king-size bed and a door leading to an outside deck. “How long have you been here?”
“Got in yesterday.” His gaze moves over me again. “Do you want to get out of those clothes?”
My pulse leaps. But then it settles quickly when I realize what he’s asking. Oh, how I wanted to hear those words from him all those years ago.
“Yeah, I probably should,” I say. Okay, Bri, this is the perfect opportunity for seduction. “Do you have something I could slip into? A pair of sweats, maybe.”
“I have a T-shirt,” he says. “And gym shorts. No sweats.”
“That should do.”
He goes to the dresser and comes back with a T-shirt that will float on me and a pair of shorts with no drawstring. I point to them. “Ah, those won’t work.”
“Probably not.” He puts them aside and hands me the shirt. He gestures with a nod. “Bathroom is in there.”
“I know where it is,” I say as I saunter across the room.
“That’s right. Your granddad owns the resort, doesn’t he?” I nod as I step into the bathroom and leave the door slightly ajar as I change. “What’s with you and him, anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem tense around him.”
Luca always was a smart guy. Very astute. I’ll have to play it careful around him. “He won’t stop pushing me to get married,” I say truthfully. No need to fib about that.
“Ah,” he says.
I take off my wet clothes—bra and panties included—and shrug into his warm shirt. “Ah, what?”
“Nothing,” he says, but before I can press he continues with, “So, you’re not interested in marriage?”
“Hell no.”
I come out from the bathroom and walk to the closet housing the washer and dryer. I bend slightly and toss my clothes in. When I stand and turn around, Luca’s glance is slowly lifting from where my ass had just been.
Okay, girl, here goes nothing.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Luca
MY EYES LIFT from her ass, and when I catch a small smile on her lips—clearly I’m busted—I tear my gaze away. What is going on with her? One second she’s acting like she doesn’t know me, and the next she’s aiming her sexy ass my way. I’m pretty damn sure she’s aware of what she’s doing and is trying to get a rise out of me.
Well done, Brianna. It worked.
I turn from her and pretend to do something in the kitchen sink as I adjust my cock. Her bare feet graze the wooden floor as she walks around the chalet and it’s all I can do to keep my shit together. A whooshing sound reaches my ears and I turn to find her flicking on the propane fire.
“Still not warm?” I ask, even though the sun’s been beating in through the windows of the chalet all day and it’s a million degrees. She holds her hands out in front of the fire to absorb the heat.
“Not yet,” she says.
“Maybe you should jump in the shower,” I say as beads of perspiration dot my bare chest.
“You think a warm shower will help?”
“For you, yes. Personally I need a cold one,” I say, and when she wipes her tongue over her bottom lip, I groan. “It’s so hot in here,” I explain, not wanting her to think I need a cold shower to cool down my dick, which just happens to be the truth.
“Well, you weren’t swimming in an ice-cold lake,” she says and pokes the air with the tip of her finger.
I shrug. “You’re right, I wasn’t.”
“Go ahead and take a cold shower if you want.” She turns back to the fire. “My clothes will probably be ready by the time you get out.”
“No, I’m good, but I’m going to change into shorts.” I grab the pair I’d offered her and make my way to the bathroom. As I pass Brianna, she’s adjusting the thermostat, turning it up higher.
“Keep that up and I’m going to end up in my birthday suit.” I say without thinking and close the bathroom door. What the hell? Get your mind off nakedness. Her soft chuckle reaches my ears and I wonder if she’s really that cold, or if she’s just jacking up the heat to get me out of my clothes. Shit, all she has to do is ask.
Wait, no. I am not going to have sex with Brianna. No way. No how. Not even if she asks.
Okay, maybe if she asks.
Cazzo!
I kick off my pants, and as I glance at my swollen dick, I take it into my hands and consider rubbing one out. In my current state it wouldn’t take long, and Brianna would be none the wiser. I pull from the base to the crown. Heck, I should probably ease the tension before something ruptures.
“Maybe the hot tub will help,” she calls out. The click of the patio door opening reaches my ears, and I close my eyes and try not to visualize her in that hot tub naked.
Again with the nakedness.
“Good idea,” I say. Fuck, is that my voice? I open the bathroom door and walk to the patio just in time to see her peel my shirt from her shoulders and climb into the water. Naked.
My God, she has a beautiful body. Her curves are less pronounced than they were years ago, but she was as breathtaking then as she is now. She settles into the tub, leans her head back and stares up at the night sky.
Not wanting to startle her, I speak quietly, avert my eyes even though she’s covered now by the water frothing from the jets. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Do you have any wine?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” I hurry to the kitchen, and my hands are a bit shaky as I pour her a glass of wine and grab a beer from the fridge. I pop the cap and down half of the liquid in one swallow. With my cock jumping in my shorts, I step outside and the heat of the night falls over me.
“Join me,” she says as I hand her the glass.
I wipe moisture from my brow. “I’m too hot as it is.”
She presses the glass to her parted lips and takes a drink. A drop settles on her bottom lip, and it takes every ounce of strength I possess not to lean in and lick it away.
I clear my throat and her gaze settles on me. “So, your grandfather is after you to get married,” I say for lack of anything else.
“Yes.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“No.” I settle into one of the Adirondack chairs, and her eyes narrow in on me. “What?”
I shrug. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
She lifts her chin slightly. “You don’t know me well enough to make that call. In fact you don’t know me at all.”
I take a pull from the bottle. “I know a few things.”
“Oh?” she says, an almost worried look crossing her face.
“I know you went to Oxford, and that you’re a lawyer. I know you’re Tate’s cousin, and that you two were close growing up. I know you make a mean apple pie.”
“I guess I know a few things about you, too,” she says, almost under her breath.
I lean toward her. “Such as.”
She waves her hand and water splashes over me. “You’re a corporate lawyer and work for my cousin.”
I settle back in my chair. “So, really, you know nothing about me,” I say, a bit relieved. The less anyone knows, the better.
“Well, I also know you like to sneak up on girls when they’re swimming naked.”
I laugh at that, and she laughs with me. “You said you were going back to your room. How was I to know you’d be in my spot?”
“Your spot, huh?” she says.
“Yep. Let’s just say next time you use it, be warned that I might not be such a gentleman.”
Stop fucking flirting, man.
She sits up a little straighter in the tub and I want to punch myself in the face for engaging in sexy banter with her. I need to end this now and get her out of my chalet before I do something I can only regret later.
I open my mouth to tell her it’s time to go but stop when she says, “Maybe I don’t want you to be such a gentleman.”
Perspiration breaks out on my body as her nipples pop above the water line. “Brianna...” I begin, but as my cock thickens, my brain cells stop functioning.
“I think I’m warm now,” she says, and lifts a little more, water splashing around her bare body. Unable to help myself, my gaze drops to her beautiful breasts, and a groan I have no control over crawls out of my throat.
“If you’re warm, then why are your nipples so hard?”
Holy fuck, what the hell are you doing?
My blatantly sexual question takes her by surprise, but she recovers quickly. “The night air. I should probably get inside to warm up by the fire.”
Walk away, Luca. Walk away.
I stand, about to do just that, but my cock has other ideas. Before I can stop myself, I slide into the tub with her, shorts still on. A gasp catches in her throat as I go to my knees in front of her and my gaze latches on to hers.
“Or I could use my mouth to warm you,” I suggest, and when her chest rises and falls, everything in her eyes and her body saying yes, I lean into her and close my lips around her hard nipple.
At first she stiffens beneath my touch, and I wonder if I’ve made a colossal mistake. Have I read this situation wrong? Has she not been coming on to me? I’m about to pull back, but then my name is spilling from her lips, and her hands are circling my head, gripping my hair and holding me to her.
Hell yes.
I swirl my tongue over her turgid bud and draw her deeper into my mouth, sucking and tasting until she’s murmuring something incoherent. A small part of my brain warns me not to start this, but at the moment, the throbbing head between my legs is the one calling the shots. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, it would take this entire village to pull me off her.
Warm water heats my already hot body, and I lift her a bit higher, wanting to see all of her. The night air is warm, so I’m not worried about her getting cold, plus it’s easy to tell she’s burning up. I break the kiss and inch back, take in her glossy, lust-filled eyes.
“Where else are you cold?” I ask as I press my lips to hers. Her mouth parts, welcoming me in, and the second my tongue enters her sweet mouth, need grips my balls.
She moans into my mouth and kisses me back, and I take everything she’s willing to give. I move my mouth to her neck. “You cold here?”
“Yes, very,” she murmurs and leans her head back to give me better access. I lick the long column of her neck and then burrow my face into the soft hollow there. Her hips move restlessly beneath the water, telling me what she wants, and I grip them, hold her still. “Don’t worry,” I whisper. “I’ll warm all your cold spots.”
I slide my hand down her hips, grip her thighs and widen them. She whimpers, and her hands go to my shoulders. Her fingers are warm and soft against my skin and I can’t wait to feel them on my dick.
Breathing heavily, I nuzzle her ear and run my fingers up her inner thighs. I touch her clit, circle it, slowly, methodically.
“Yes,” she says on a breathless whisper.
“Cold here, Brianna?” I ask, everything in me dying to get between her legs.
“Freezing,” she says, and unable to wait a second longer, I stand and pull her up with me. Her eyes go wide, and I put my hand back between her legs. “You need my mouth here,” I say, a statement not a question, but she answers with a nod.
“Then we need to get you inside, and get you spread wide open so I can warm you up properly.” I scoop her up, carry her into the stifling heat and set her on the bed, which is facing the fire. “Legs open,” I command in a soft voice.
“Bossy,” she says, and it’s clear to me she’s used to giving orders in the bedroom, not taking them.
“Do it.” Her nipples quiver as she spreads for me, and I meet her glance as I pet her sex lightly. “So cold. It might take hours for me to warm you up.”
“My cousin never said you were bossy, but I do remember hearing something about you being meticulous and working long and hard into the night to get a job done.”
I grin at that, and ever so slowly inch a finger into her. She’s so fucking tight and wet, I nearly explode in my shorts. I finger her for a second and she grows even wetter. “Is this helping?”
“A little...” she murmurs, as her body tightens around my finger. My God, she’s so close, I can’t believe it. I pull my finger out, wanting to prolong her pleasure, and tear my shorts from my body. She goes up on her elbows to see my dick, and her eyes widen when I take my cock into my hands.
“Smart, meticulous and totally equipped to stay up all night to finish the job. I might have just won the man lottery,” she says, and smiles up at me. I smile back, pleased that she likes what she sees.
I climb onto the bed and find her mouth again. As I kiss her, I ease her back until she’s beneath me. She reaches out, captures my dick in her hand and gives me a little squeeze. I brush my thumb over her nipple and make a tsking sound.
“Hard again.” I fall over her, press her into the mattress and find her nipple. I take a long, hard suck until she’s scratching at my back, dragging skin with nails. Damn, that feels good.
“Heating up, Brianna?” I ask around a mouthful of pink sweetness.
“So hot,” she murmurs and lifts her hips, moving her pussy against my stomach and leaving me soaking wet. I shimmy lower and press openmouthed kisses to her stomach and belly button, and when I reach her hot little sex, I blow on it.
She quivers and I press my mouth to her clit, suck it in until she’s jerking beneath me. She swells even more beneath my ministrations, and I slip one finger into her tight core.
“Luca,” she cries out, and bucks against my mouth, a shameless display of need that turns me on even more.
“That’s it,” I say, lifting my mouth from her sex.
“No, please. I’m still—”
Her words fall off when I roll onto my back and drag her until her pussy is positioned right where I want it. “Work your pussy over my mouth. Get it nice and warm for my cock,” I say and flick my tongue out to taste the sweetness dripping from her center.
“Oh God.” She presses down on me and moves her hips, writhing and rotating and soaking my face unabashedly. She’s no sedentary passenger along for the ride between the sheets, and I love that about her. For a buttoned-up girl outside the bedroom, inside, Brianna is a girl who knows what she wants and takes what she needs.
I fuck her with my tongue, and she rubs her clit all over me until her breathing changes. I dip a finger into her core, brush it back and forth over the hot bundle of nerves as I eat at her with all the need unraveling inside me—far too many years in the making.
“Luca,” she cries out as her body breaks, her hot release splashing out of her and dripping down my chin. I drink her in, lap at her, not wanting to miss a drop. She tries to move, but I slide one hand around her and grip her ass. No way is she going anywhere until I’ve had my fill. Then again now that I’ve tasted her, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sate my appetite.
She’s panting and her nails are tugging at the sheet as I take my time, despite the fact that my dick is so hard I’m in agony. I finally clean her and slide out from beneath her body. She rolls over onto her back, and I have to say, that sexy, well-fucked-woman look she’s wearing totally suits her.
My gaze falls to her hard nipples, and she cups her breasts, squeezes them together. “They need my mouth again?” I ask. She shakes her head, mischief in her eyes, and my gaze roams her face. What is she up to?
“They need this,” she says and sits up to grab my throbbing cock. Instantly understanding what she wants, I climb up her body, and she squeezes her beautiful breasts together for me. I do love a woman who doesn’t hold back and makes no qualms about what she wants. I slide my cock between her breasts and thrust forward, into her waiting mouth. Fucking her like this is so goddamn hot, pre-cum spills from my tip, and she laps at it with each upward thrust.
“So good,” I growl as the dual pleasure takes me to the edge fast. I stroke her like this a couple more times, then tear my dick from her perfect tits.
“Time to really warm you up,” I say and grab my pants. I pull a condom from the pocket and rip into it. Brianna goes up on her elbows again to watch me, her gaze latched on to my dick. Gesù, I really like the way she looks at me, like when she finally gets her mouth on my cock, she’s going to worship it.
She crooks her finger, urging me back to her, and I don’t waste any time getting between her legs again. I fall over her, and she wraps her legs around my back, trying to force me inside. But I need to go slowly, or I’m going to blow my load before I even get started.
I give her an inch and her head rolls back. “Yesss,” she hisses, and puts her hands on my shoulders.
“You’re fucking hot,” I say.
“So hot,” she murmurs, her lids falling heavily over dark eyes.
“Maybe you don’t need my cock, then,” I tease, and her eyes open wide. When she catches my grin, she relaxes. “So, you do need it?” I ask, wanting, for some strange reason, to hear her say it.
“Yes, I need it,” she says, and lifts her hips. “I need your cock, so don’t make me wait any longer.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeats, and before she even finishes, I power forward, driving my entire length into her, and seating myself so goddamn high, I’m sure I’ve reached heaven.
“Luca,” she cries out, and curls forward as I fill her. Her muscles tighten around my girth, her liquid heat coating my cock.
I move my hips and slide in and out of her, creating friction until we’re both panting, our skin ridiculously hot to the touch.
“This,” she begins and then swallows hard. She tries to speak again, but her words catch in her throat.
“This feel good?”
She nods and whimpers as I angle my body for deeper thrusts. “Oh...” she manages to get out as I slide a hand between our bodies and toy with her clit. Her body vibrates around my dick, and I clench down on my teeth, struggling to hang on. I want this to be amazing for her, because this is a one-time thing. Some working brain cell reminds me it has to be.
“Are you going to stay out of my swimming hole?” I ask as I slam home, my balls slapping her body with each thrust. She shakes her head and a groan catches in my throat. “What about my warning?”
“Don’t...care,” she croaks out, her voice broken.
“I told you I won’t be a gentleman next time.” She quivers harder, liking this little game I’m playing with her.
Her eyes flash. “And I told you I don’t want you to.”
“Then I won’t be so nice again.”
“What...what will you do?”
I drive into her, slam her against the mattress, my dick ready to explode. Heat zaps my balls and they tighten as I think about bending her over a log and taking her in the woods. “A naked woman in the woods, warned to stay away and choosing not to. Well, that woman might just find herself up against the Big Bad Wolf if she’s not careful.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, she comes all over my cock. I pinch my eyes shut as her heat seeps into my body, burns me from the inside out.
“Fuck,” I murmur, and bury my face in her neck as she rides out the gripping waves. I pull out, slam back in again, and with her last few clenches, I let go on a growl.
As I come and come and come, I collapse on top of her and breathe in the sweet smell of her skin. We’re both panting, taking deep, labored breaths, and we stay like that until my cock grows soft. I inch out of her, then I pull her to me, hold her close. For the last few months I’ve been all work and no play, but now that I’ve played with Brianna, I can’t help but want more. As I think about that, my cock starts thickening again. Brianna shimmies away, but I reach for her.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I ask as I pull her on top of me.
She looks over her shoulder, glances at the door. “I was—”
I drag her mouth to mine, kiss her deeply. No way is she getting out of here tonight. My cock grows against her body and she moans her approval. Oh yeah, we’re going to fuck until the sun comes up.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u31c0675d-68bc-5785-a308-cea543a6996d)
Brianna
HOW COULD I have been so stupid?
I shake my head and give myself a good hard lecture for falling for Luca’s charm and letting him seduce me into his bed. Or was it the other way around? I’m not sure. All I know is I was supposed to turn him on and leave him hanging, like he did to me all those years ago. I groan and pound the bed, but settle myself back down when Luca comes back from the bathroom. Shit, I wanted to be out of here before he finished. I close my eyes, pretend I’m sleeping until I can figure out what to do next, how to get myself out of this.
Yeah, I made a mistake last night, but goddammit the sex was good. Better than good. It was fan-freaking-tastic. The best sex I’ve ever had. The second he put his mouth on my nipple, I had planned to put a stop to things, tell him who I was and bolt. But did I do that? Of course not. How could I? No one has ever worked my nipples quite like that before. I knew I had to see it through. Why shouldn’t I take what I want, on my terms? Unfortunately those terms weren’t supposed to include a stupid sleepover.
The edge of the mattress dips, and I inch one eye open to find Luca sitting on the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand.
“Morning,” he says. “Coffee?”
“Like you even have to ask.” He grins and hands the mug over. I take a much-needed sip. “Thank you. You will be rewarded in heaven,” I say. He stands and my gaze roams his body. This morning he’s dressed in nothing but his jeans. Dammit, what is it about a guy in nothing but jeans that turns me on? Okay, maybe it’s just Luca in jeans that does that.
Time to go.
I push the blankets off me, and that’s when I realize I’m stark naked. I grab the sheet and haul it back up.
Luca angles his head. “I’ve seen you naked, Bri,” he says.
“It’s Brianna.”
He grins. “I’ve seen you naked, Brianna. And I’ve been inside you. It’s a little late to cover up, don’t you think?” He grips the sheet and slowly drags it down my body. “You’re beautiful, you know.”
Old hurts come back in a crushing wave. He didn’t think so years ago, couldn’t see that I was more than just a chubby freshman. “I should go.”
He frowns. “Was it something I said?”
“No. I should go. Tate and the others will be wondering where I am.” I climb from the bed, and Luca’s moan of appreciation fills the room as I saunter to the dryer and grab my clothes. I hurry to the bathroom and dress. Great. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, and from one look at me it’s easy to tell I’ve been up having sex all night. I somehow have to get to my room without anyone seeing me. This...whatever this was...is not something I want to explain, or repeat.
Liar.
Okay, okay, maybe I do want a repeat—why bother denying it?—but it’s not going to happen.
Oh, but it did once, and it was so damn good.
All righty then. On that note I step from the bathroom and glance around to find Luca in the kitchen. I take another sip of coffee and set my cup on the counter. I’m about to slip out when Luca points a spatula at me.
“Sit.”
Ribbons of need swirl through me at his assertiveness. I’m not sure what that’s all about. I’m the one who’s always in control, always calling the shots, but last night when he took charge of me, it awakened something needy inside me, something I never even knew existed.
“You’re not going anywhere until I feed you. What kind of guy do you think I am, anyway?”
Oh, if he only knew.
“I don’t normally eat breakfast,” I say, but glance over at the counter to see what smells so good. My stomach takes that moment to grumble.
“Maybe not, but we worked up quite the appetite last night and you’re going to eat.”
“Maybe I work up an appetite like that every night,” I say, having no doubt he does the same himself. I remember his reputation back at Oxford.
He flips the pancake, turns and leans back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankle. Seriously, could he make the pose look any sexier? I want to tell him to put a shirt on already, but I don’t want him to know the true effect his near nakedness has on me.
“Is that right?” he asks.
“That’s right.”
“Is that why you don’t want to get married? You like having a different guy in your bed every night?” He shrugs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just curious.” He flips the pancakes again and then plates them, sliding them across the island. I breathe in the delicious smell as he grabs the syrup.
“Why so curious?” I ask as I pour a generous amount of syrup over my pancakes.
“It’s the lawyer in me.”
“It’s the lawyer in me that keeps me single.”
He forks a big bite into his mouth, chews and then says, “How so?”
“I’m a divorce lawyer. I see the worst in people all the time, and if you know anything about my family, the guys move from woman to woman constantly.” Tate’s dad, Uncle Don, is the latest example. He married his fourth wife several months ago. Half the family didn’t bother skipping work to attend. Carson family weddings have become so run-of-the-mill... Sounds scornful but it’s the truth.
“Tate’s not like that.”
I smile. “No, he’s one of the good guys.”
“Then you’re saying there are good guys out there?”
I laugh. “Way to twist my words. You must win a lot of cases.”
“I win enough.” He takes another bite, lounging against the island.
“You really don’t want to get married. I never would have guessed that about you,” he says, redirecting the conversation back to me.
“I don’t do relationships, don’t do love and I don’t sleep with the same guy twice. Believe me, I know happily-ever-after doesn’t exist. I see that every day.”
A moment of silence as he absorbs that, and then he says, “Your job is doing a number on you. Do you even like what you do?”
I take a long moment to think about it. “Some days, I guess.”
“You did family law at Oxford?”
A question, not a statement, but I answer anyway. “That’s right.”
“I wonder if we ever ran into each other, attended any of the same parties.”
“The guys in their Oxford hoodies.” I wave my fork. “I couldn’t tell one apart from the other. You all looked alike.”
“Ah, the hoodies. They were all the rage back then. I wore mine to every party.”
“I remember,” I say. Then when his eyes lift to mine, I add, “I mean I remember the hoodies. I don’t remember you in one at any party.” Wow, for a girl who hates to lie, I’m really nailing it here. “By the way, these pancakes are delicious,” I add, wanting to change the conversation.
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