“Not perfect. But let’s see, what will convince you to accept my invitation?” He continued to place small kisses on her face. “I have a view of Rome from my terrace.”
She shook her head, but a small smile slipped out. He kissed her chin and her temple. Then he slowly brushed his mouth down the side of her face and nipped lightly at the skin below her ear. Heat pooled in her abdomen, and she squeezed her legs together.
“No? Well, then, I have a chef. She’s very good.”
Her eyes opened wide at that one, but she shook her head again.
He placed a kiss just under her jaw. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
“OK, here’s my last offer.” He straightened a bit, and his lips hovered a breath away from hers. She looked up into his dark gaze.
“I have a Picasso in my bedroom,” he said.
She laughed and rolled her eyes. Was he serious? She tried for sarcasm. “That’s it? That’s your enticement?
Everyone
has a Picasso, Nick.”
“Hmm…you’re right. How about the Titian, then? It’s hanging in my bathroom.”
She smacked him on the arm. “It is not.”
He smiled. “It is. About three steps from my Jacuzzi. Come to Rome and see.”
Her lips curved in a wicked smile.
The spark in his eyes flared to acetylene flame. “Gotcha,” he whispered. Then his mouth descended, and she forgot how to breathe.
* * *
Nick settled into the kiss. Dio, she was lush. Beautiful. Delicious. Lisa’s lips and tongue were sweet and soft, and he couldn’t get enough of their shy response. The vanilla scent of candles in the room played a counter note to the delicate perfume of Lisa herself. The combination set him off balance, and that astonished him. He fought back a twinge of regret that their encounter could not be just an uncomplicated exploration of chemistry and mutual attraction.
No, this had to be for the painting. For his revenge.
He pulled back to catch a glimpse of Lisa’s eyes, wide and dark with arousal and maybe the tiniest hint of apprehension. He sank back onto the cushions of the sectional and pulled her down on top of him with the intention of letting her set the pace. But when his knee nudged her legs, her soft moan made his pulse pound. He swept a hand down her arm and then up again to mold the back of her head, to angle it as he swept in to plunder her mouth.
Her hair was silky and fine, her mouth hot and soft. Her hand gripped his shoulder and then slid up into his hair. The feel of her holding him sent a rush of blood to his rapidly building erection. He pressed back into the cushions to regain some control, but the sight of her flushed face and ripe mouth made him squeeze his eyes shut. He reached blindly for another taste.
The kiss deepened and picked up speed, and despite his best efforts, he lost himself in it. He swept one hand down to grip her thigh where it rode his hips. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders. He bent his head to access her tender throat, groaning when she shifted and pressed her hips against his. His vision darkened, and he struggled to reel in his reaction, to resist the urge to pounce.
“Lisa,” he whispered. “
Sei dolcissima. Bella
. God, you’re sweet. But we have to…” He took a deep breath and rained small kisses on her face and lips. “Lisa.”
“Hmm?” She opened her eyes and blinked slowly. As he watched, realization flooded the leaf green depths and brought even more color to her face. Amazed, he lifted one finger to touch the heated curve of her cheek. He smiled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She pushed away from him and sat up.
He sat up too and faced her. “Why are you sorry?” he asked, surprised.
“Well, not sorry. I just…” She thrust a hand through her hair. “I make it a rule not to jump on men I’ve known for less than twenty-four hours.”
He glanced at his watch. “Even if they’re willing to be jumped on after less than twelve hours?”
Her eyes lit with amusement. “Yes, even then. Especially then.”
“Are there exceptions to this rule?” He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to the faint blue vein pulsing against the delicate skin of her wrist.
“Not lately. No.” She avoided his eyes. “Not in a long while.”
Now that was interesting. Maybe her lack of a current relationship explained her eagerness. And her reluctance too. That could work in his favor.
He looked over where she sat with one leg pulled up under her, gazing at the fire. The light of the candles burnished her honey hair, picking out the highlights. The long strands spilled over her shoulder to tease the tips of her breasts in their soft cashmere covering. He ached to push his hands under her sweater and reveal those pretty, petite mounds. He swallowed, fighting desire. His hunger for her made him fear losing sight of his goal.
Rome. The painting. The principessa.
She turned back to him, searching his face for something.
What?
He pulled in a breath at the quiet attraction in her gaze. He watched as concern, determination, and then frank lust played over her face. That last caused his blood to jump in his veins. She swayed toward him, eyes closed.
He cupped his hands around her jaw and played his tongue along the seam of her mouth. “Open for me, Lisa.”
She moaned when he slid his tongue inside to tangle with hers. He smoothed his hands down her shoulders, reached for her hands. He placed a kiss on each palm and then guided her fingers to his chest. “Touch me,” he said.
He grinned as she gripped his sweater, wrinkling the fabric. He’d pushed her past her nervous hesitation. Good. But when she dragged the sweater up and over his head and started on the buttons of his shirt, a bead of sweat slid down his back. Then, when she straddled his legs and spread the shirt open to press kisses on his chest and abdomen, he cursed.
Madre di Dio
. He’d forgotten that both of them could play this game of seduction. And right now, the tables had been turned.
* * *
Lisa’s mouth went dry when she stroked her hands over Nick’s hard abs and smooth, bronzed skin. His head tipped back, and she moved forward to drag her teeth over his plush lower lip. He groaned. A jolt of pure lust stabbed between her legs. Her fingers skimmed up and plunged into the wild, silky curls at his nape. It was her turn to groan.
What was it about this man? The heat and strength of her need for him overrode her natural restraint. When she felt the wicked play of his tongue on hers, every internal demand for caution incinerated, and she clutched him closer.
He released her lips to rain kisses on her jaw and neck. Her head fell back, and she arched her body back over his arm. She dug her fingers into the smooth skin of his shoulders.
“Lisa, bella…let me—” His whispered words broke off when she pressed the seam of her jeans against his erection. A thrill shot through her when he growled, and his mouth found the curve of her neck, just under her ear. It felt exactly right. Her body responded with a sweet ache.
His fingers played with the hem of her sweater, slipped under to slide into the back of her jeans. She gasped and squirmed. She wanted this. She wanted to forget today and just lose herself in this sexy, exciting man. Drunk on the heady scent of him, she grasped her sweater and pulled it up over her head.
His dark, fierce gaze met hers when she emerged. He circled her ribcage with his palms, and she looked down. His hands made a strong statement against her pale skin. His thumbs met at the center of her slick satin bra and then swept over her nipples. She dropped her head back and rocked forward against him.
“Nick.”
At the sound of his name on her lips he groaned, and a string of whispered Italian escaped him. His arms came around her, and he crushed her to him, burying his face in the curve of her neck. She moved against him. Restless, seeking. But he clamped down hard, holding her still. The fine tremor of his body and the pounding of his heartbeat revealed the effort of his restraint. Blood beat in her veins, ran hot under the surface of her skin. But he didn’t move and wouldn’t let her move either.
Mystified, she stilled. Gradually, their breathing calmed, and he gentled his hold.
“What?” she whispered. “What is it?”
He lifted his head and swept a piece of hair back from her eyes. His gaze bored into hers, eyes glittering.
“Lisa, as much as I want you, I know it is too soon for you. For us.”
She shook her head slowly. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you. That’s not why you stopped, is it?”
She moved ever so slightly on his lap, and his entire body tensed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. The chemistry between them had the power to sweep them away. She knew it, and he did too.
Suddenly he stood with her in his arms, turned, and placed her on the couch. He backed off and ran a hand through his hair. The sight of all that bare, bronzed skin above her blanked her mind. Then he picked up his shirt and sweater.
“You will thank me later. I’ll call you a cab,” he said. He skirted the couch, heading for the suite’s bedroom.
She frowned. She was leaving? Now? “But—”
“
Buona notte, piccola. Sogna di me
,” he said, over his shoulder. He disappeared down the short hallway, and his bedroom door closed with a click.
Stunned, Lisa clenched her fists in frustration. Embarrassment swept through her, and she reached for her sweater to drag it back on. She hugged her arms around her body. She hadn’t even decided what she wanted.
Well, that wasn’t precisely true. Her body had clearly made a decision. Her mind just hadn’t caught up with that choice. Slowly, reason came back to her. Reason and reflection. Shivery embarrassment heated her cheeks. Well, Nick had successfully distracted her from finding out more about him. More than that, he’d overwhelmed her with a passion so hot it had singed her eyelashes. She’d been ready,
so
ready, to cast aside all of her rules for him.
Sogna di me
.
She smiled reluctantly as the meaning of his parting words filtered into her brain.
Dream of me
, he’d said. And he’d made sure she had no choice.
Chapter Four
Lisa jolted awake and sat up in bed. The light in her bedroom was gray and dim. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 11:29, it read. She pushed her hair out of her face. What had happened to her five a.m. alarm? She was supposed to work the early shift today.
She flopped back on the pillow and pulled the duvet over her head. Despite the extra sleep, every bone in her body weighed a million pounds. Since moving seemed problematic, she lay for several minutes and sorted through the previous day’s events in her mind. She winnowed them down to the basics—long day at work, sick man, emergency responders.
Nick Carnavale
. The memory of his lush kisses and hot hands replayed in her head. Her body softened but she couldn’t help squirming when she remembered her reaction to his touch.
God
. Time to get up.
She padded over to the window and pushed the curtains back. The sky was dark, leaden. Pellets of ice smacked hard against the window, driven by the force of the wind. Deep, new snow had buried the winter wonderland she’d marveled at last night. She pressed her hand to the cold pane. So this was why Ty hadn’t called in irritation, wondering why she wasn’t at the café. Even in a ski town, people had trouble getting around in this kind of weather.
She rubbed her arms briskly. If they were snowed in, that meant Nick was snowed in too. She spent a few moments wondering if she would inevitably succumb to his deep voice and sultry eyes if she saw him again. She pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering the wild taste of him. The shudders of his long, lean body when he’d held her tightly.
She shook her head and stared out at the swirling white landscape. Sex in her life hadn’t always been great, but it had always been serious business. At least to her it had. That’s why she’d instituted the no-mixing-business-with-pleasure rule. Because the truth was, she had always found it difficult to protect her pitiful, vulnerable heart when a man whispered how much he wanted her. With someone like Nick, she knew her heart could end up shredded, but that fact hadn’t stopped her from responding to him with everything in her. In the end,
he
had been the one to call a halt to their lovemaking.
Sogna di me
. Yeah, no kidding.
Deliberately pushing the confusing tumble of thoughts away, Lisa let the curtain fall and ducked into her bathroom. She took care of her bedhead and sleep wrinkles with a comb and some icy cold water. Refreshed, she wrapped herself in a fluffy robe and padded out to the kitchen.
The coffee pot had a bright orange sticky note with an arrow pointing to the brew switch. Kimmi, her roommate. At least her fellow barista had thought of the essentials. Lisa cast a glance down the hallway toward Kimmi’s bedroom, but was pretty sure the younger girl wasn’t here. Lisa wondered where she was, considering the weather.
She pressed the button on the coffee maker, and then a splash of color at the other end of the counter caught her attention. She turned to see a single long-stemmed rose resting on top of a note. Another sticky nearby read, “This was delivered this a.m. from a certain Italian art collector. Lucky! Took your early shift, thought you needed the sleep. Kimmi.”
Had Nick sent her a note?
Her cheeks bloomed with hot embarrassment, even though there was no one to see it. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her robe.
A note. Classic.
She turned her back on the white envelope and studied the hot coffee that dripped in a fine stream into the carafe. A part of her felt relieved. But the other part of her, the larger part, wrestled with disappointment. She’d wanted to see him. In spite of everything, that jolt from his granite-colored eyes had become addictive. As had his sweet, hot kisses.
God, was she crazy? The man had carefully controlled every interaction between them from the moment she’d served his espresso. She thought of Berger’s panicked eyes as he gasped for air, and Nick’s quiet triumph when he’d found the EpiPen. Well, maybe not every interaction.