“No,” he says, voice deep and low. “I’m not done. Open for me.”
Fuck. Me. Sideways.I don’t even contemplate ignoring that command. My mouth opens again, and he takes control as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Giulio kisses me like he has every intention of taking it much further. His hands are hard on my body, gripping in rhythmic movements as if he’s struggling not to pin me down and climb over me. His rigid length presses against the place above the juncture of my thighs. He’s taller than me by enough that it rides against my belly more so than my groin.
Hunger, wickedly sharp and addictive, slams into me like a freight train. It’s been so long since I had a boyfriend—or any combination of fuck buddy and friend—and none of them had ever kissed quite like this.
Thrust and retreat, Giulio sends my mind into overdrive, and one of my hands slowly edges its way toward the button of his pants. I moan again as his palms smooth up my back, urging me closer as his callused fingers glide over the bare skin of my spine.
If Giulio fucks half as well as he kisses, then I have no doubt that real married life is going to be a pleasant experience. I don’t want it to ever stop, but we’re not in private, and I really don’t think letting my mobster husband get arrested for public indecency will convince him to take me on more dates. If all of them end this way, however, I might start demanding them. For now, though…
Slowly, with great pain and more than a little regret, I stop moving my hand toward his pants and I pull my lips away from his. His mouth is wet, and the sight has me wavering on my feet. Those blue eyes of his are boring into me as if he can dive past the layers of skin, muscle, and bone to my insides and see exactly what I’m thinking.Yeah, buddy, I have no clue, either.
Giulio’s tongue comes out and swipes across his lower lip, licking up the evidence of our kiss. My knees nearly buckle. I imagine that tongue—the same tongue that was just in my mouth—in other places. It is way too fucking hot in here—oh wait, we’re outside.
“Does New York have heat waves?” I blurt.
Giulio blinks, and the carnal glint in his gaze seems to fade slightly. “I… suppose it does, on occasion.”
I lift a palm and flap it in front of my burning face. “I think we’re having one right now.”
Another blink, and then Giulio does something I never expected. He throws his head back and laughs. Not one of the reserved laughs from earlier, not a chuckle, but an actual, honest-to-God belly laugh that rumbles up his chest and throat and… oh hell, he looks damn fine when he laughs.
I step away from him and reach for his hand. We’re getting out of here. Right now. Before I do something stupid… like mount my husband in public. If I’m going to get arrested, I’d rather it be for something cool—like stealing a penguin or burning down a gay conversion camp—andnotpublic indecency.
18
DAISY
The difference between a gentleman and a man is that one knows when to hold your hand and the other knows when to grab your hair.
You are a menace,cara.” Despite the words that Giulio shoots my way, he doesn’t sound like he minds. I settle more firmly against the warm, cushioned seat of his SUV and watch his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel. I lick my lips and lower my gaze to the front of his slacks where he’s still sporting an erection that makes me a little nervous about how he’ll fit when he gets inside of me.
“You’ve been calling me that all night,” I murmur. “It’s Italian, right?” He nods. “You said you were raised here—well, in Brooklyn, but in America. How do you know the language so well?”
Giulio glances at me for a brief second before he directs his attention to the front of the car. He eases into the next lane, the long stretches of pavement and streetlights blurring around us. “Don Luciani taught me,” he admits, “and yes, it’s Italian.”
“What does it mean?” The vehicle slows at a red light and idles before the faded white line. The soft wash of air conditioning soothes my flesh, which felt too hot when we were outside and his hands had been all over me. Now, it’s chilly in here, and I close my arms around myself as I wait for his answer.
“‘Dear,’” Giulio finally says. “Carameans something like… ‘dear.’”
So, does that mean Giulio has been calling me his “dear”? Like we’re a real married couple? My heart throbs in my chest, and my eyes fall away from his face as the light changes and he presses the gas, sending us shooting forward once more.
My reasons for not being sure about Giulio haven’t changed. Ginny gave everything to a boy once, a rich jock from our high school who promised her the world. He took her virginity, and no matter how many people in our group home warned her that he was playing her, she hadn’t listened. Fifteen was far too young to die. It was also too young to be pregnant without family and without the baby’s father. She knew that, and though a part of me feels like her choice was selfish, another part of me understands why people make hard decisions.
Fear. Confusion. Pain. Hurt. Grief. She saw no way out, and I couldn’t fault her for the decision she made. Even if, years later, it still leaves me feeling achy and full of sorrow at her loss. Wherever he is, I hope that jackass never forgets what he did to her.
“Where is your mind,cara?” I blink and glance up realizing that we’ve stopped moving, and the car is parked in the garage attached to our building.
Turning to look at the man in the driver’s seat, I think aboutall the decisions that brought me here to this moment. To him. Taking Michelle’s shift. Going into that bridal suite. Agreeing to marry a stranger.
Giulio’s hand comes up, and his thumb brushes over my cheek, the pad a bit rough yet still soothing. I lean into the touch, liking it far more than I care to admit. Or maybe it’s okay to admit it—I like Giulio. He’s strong, funny, and capable. A man like that’s a heady thing when I’m used to guys who have no direction and simply wade through life using everyone around them until they figure it out. I know what I want, and so does Giulio.
Plus, he’s loyal, an internal voice reminds me.That’s, like, every girl’s dream, right?
Yeah, Giulio is a loyal man, all right. Loyal to his family and, hopefully, loyal to his wife. After all, he doesn’t mind getting rid of dead bodies for me, and I’m sure there are loads of husbands out there that wouldn’t even take out the trash.
A shudder works through me as Giulio stares at me. His thumb moves slowly up and down the side of my face. I don’t fear him. Not anymore. Now, I’m drawn to him. I find myself leaning over the console, closing the distance between us the same way I did back at the rooftop bar. He smells amazing—all spice and cardamom. I wonder if he’s wearing a cologne or if this is just his natural scent. It’s masculine and addictive, and I’m falling into it faster and faster.
