Give a Little (12 page)

Her chin set stubbornly. “Luca—”

He took that chin in his hand. “I want to have a nice week without the usual posturing. Just you and me. A week of pleasure. Will you give that to me?”

For a moment he was afraid she was going to deny him, but then she sighed and said, “If you’re asking me if I’m going to be in a sour mood the entire week, I promise I won’t be, because I made this deal, didn’t I? And I might as well embrace it.”

He wanted her to embrace it—embrace
him
—for more than just the deal, but he’d take what she was willing to give.

For now.

Letting go, he said, “We’ll have dinner here tonight.”

“Okay. Thank you,” she murmured, looking around her room.

“Remember that you agreed not to work while you were with me,” he felt compelled to point out.

She faced him, her brow furrowed. “I know what I promised.”

“That includes your phone.”

“You can’t prevent me from calling my family,” she declared.

“I’d never do that.” He ran a hand down the length of her hair. “I know that your family is the most important thing to you.”

Frowning, she pulled away from him. “As long as that’s clear.”

He hesitated, driven by the urge to drag her back and force her to
be
with him. But he just smiled and left before he gave in to temptation and pushed her too far.

Luca sat on the balcony outside his bedroom, in his favorite silk pajamas, a glass of amaro in his hand, staring at the clear night sky. It was the perfect sort of night to share with a lover.

His lover, however, was locked away in her bedroom. They’d had a stilted dinner in the kitchen, her mobile close at hand as though she expected to need to call for help.

He longed for the intimacy that they shared in bed. He didn’t understand why she could be so open with herself under the covers but so withdrawn in innocuous moments like at a kitchen table, over dinner.

Frustrating—especially given that he’d promised himself not to touch her unless she made the first move. It was time for her to come to him. So he’d said, “
Buonanotte,
” kissed her on the cheek, and retired to his room before he forgot his resolve.

Chivalry was overrated.

As he sipped the amaro, he heard his door creak open. Turning, afraid to hope, he looked over his shoulder.

A vision in sheer midnight blue entered his room. Her hair was a cascade of golden silk, and her eyes held shadowed mystery as old as time.

He set down his drink and stood. “Tell me you aren’t a dream.”

“I think I can prove that I’m real.” She cupped the back of his head and pulled it down to kiss him.

Her lips were a glimpse of heaven, and like a dying man he drank it in eagerly. Her nimble fingers undid the buttons on his shirt and trailed over his chest, feeling, molding.

He kept his hands at his sides, letting her be in control. He watched her, dying inside, wanting her so badly that he shook.

She pulled him toward the bed, turning him around so his legs hit the edge. He sat, crawling backwards to allow her room.

Pushing the straps off her shoulder, she let the nightgown pool onto the floor.

“
Bellisima
,” he murmured, greedily taking her in. It was a sight he’d never grow used to or tired of. “I’ve been starving for you, Beatrice.”

She climbed on top of him. “Yet you left me alone tonight.”

“I gave you space,” he corrected, “because it was what you seemed to need.”

A delicate frown furrowed her forehead. “How did you know that?”

“I know your heart like it is my own.” He traced a finger down the center of her chest and then kissed her right over her breast.

She sat up on his hips, and he could feel the heat of her through his silk pajamas. She untied the string to his bottoms.

Arms folded under his head, he glanced down. The tip of his erection peeked from where she’d loosened the waist, and her fingers tickled the skin around it. She looked at him as she let her hand brush over him.

He hissed, arching up. Her touch was like nothing he’d ever experienced, and he wanted more, all over.

Rolling her over, he reached for the drawer of his bedside table. He’d stocked his room with condoms when she’d said that she would come. He didn’t bring women here. He’d known when he bought it that the only person he’d bring to this bed was the one he’d marry.

He didn’t know if Beatrice would marry him, but he knew for him there was no other. He rolled the condom on and slid into her to the hilt.

She moaned, her eyes closing, her hands fisting the sheets. “How can this be so bloody erotic?”

“Because it’s you and me,” he said, kissing her. “Because it’s elemental. Because each time it’s new, like the first time.”

She chuckled without humor. “This is nothing like the first time I had sex. He was bloody incompetent. I had to touch myself after to bring myself off.”

His manhood surged, incensed by the vision of her touching herself. One day, he’d ask her to, so he could watch. “Always the one to take care of everything. Beatrice, it’s time someone takes care of you.”

She opened her eyes, her expression more doubtful than mocking. “You think you can?”

“Beatrice, I know I can.” He reached between them and took himself in hand, sliding out and rubbing her precisely on the spot that made her sweat and claw his back.

She arched up instantly, crying out, her legs wide and open, silently begging him for more.

He could barely breathe, it was so much. He wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer—not with her under him.

But she was just as close, so he lowered his head to bite the tip of her breast, hard enough to make her cry out before he soothed it with his tongue.

“
Luca
.” Her fingers speared through his hair, pulling.

It was an exquisite pain. He set his teeth to her harder, rubbing faster.

Her legs stiffened, closing on him, her back arched. She screamed, incoherent and wild.

He pushed into her, feeling her tighten and pulse around him, and it was enough to set him off, too. He came like a schoolboy, fast and explosive, collapsing on top of her when he was spent.

She ran a hand down his back, not making a move to leave.

Closing his eyes, he held her close, hoping she’d still be next to him when he woke, but knowing better than to hold on to that hope.

“I can’t believe you’re kicking us out of our own home,” Titania grumbled as she put on her jacket.

Rowdy pulled her ponytail free from her collar and gave it a tug. “I appreciate the sacrifice. You’ll get karmic brownie points, and we all know how you’re going to need them, Goldie.”

Titania snorted. “You’re so annoying. Good thing we like you.”

It was what made moving out difficult, because he liked being around them. But they were only recently engaged, and they needed their space. Ian’s condo was enormous, but with Titania living with him now, Rowdy felt like he was the third wheel, even though the place was big enough that he hardly saw them.

“I’m looking forward to taking my fiancée to dinner,” Ian said as he put his jacket on.

“He’s thinking that if he feeds me, he might get lucky,” Titania said.

Rowdy grinned. Ian got lucky the day Titania camped out on his doorstep and refused to leave. “Is he wrong?”

“Hell no, but he’d get lucky regardless.” She winked and sauntered out the door.

“I love that woman,” Ian murmured, his gaze and footsteps following her out. Then he peeked back behind the door. “Don’t have sex on my couch.”

“I’m classier than you, MacNiven,” he called after his buddy. Besides, when he had sex with Jasmine, he wanted a huge bed and all the time in the world.

He glanced at the time and then hurried to take a quick shower before Jasmine came over. Not that
he
expected to get lucky tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to smell as fresh as a daisy when she arrived.

He’d just finished getting dressed and putting out a few hors d’oeuvres when Jasmine rang the bell downstairs. He buzzed her into the building and went to wait for her in the open doorway.

The elevator opened and she smiled when she saw him. Something in his chest bloomed, and he smiled, too.

“This is posh,” she said.

“Don’t get used to it.” He kissed her cheek and drew her inside. “It’s not mine.”

“Whose is it?” She set her purse on a side table and let him help her out of her coat.

“My buddy’s. I always stayed with him when I was in London, but now that I’ve decided to live here permanently I’ve been looking for my own place. I just haven’t seen anything that’s perfect yet.”

“What would make a place feel perfect?” she asked, facing him.

He pursed his lips. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

“That seems like code for I-don’t-know-what-I-want.”

“I didn’t know you spoke code.”

“I only know a few phrases.” She grinned and curled onto the couch. “You didn’t tell me what was on the agenda tonight.”

“I didn’t want to scare you into not coming.” He sat next to her.

“We snuck into a movie last time, so let’s see.” She tapped a finger against her lips, pretending to be in deep thought. “Did your grandfather have ‘robbing a bank’ on his list?”

“No.” He watched her carefully to gauge her reaction. “Skinny-dipping.”

She raised her brows. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why would I make that up?” he asked, even though he could think of a hundred reasons.

“To see me naked,” she said instantly.

That was the number one reason, but he shook his head. “I can show you the list if you’d like.”

“Strangely, I trust you.” She frowned. “I will not skinny-dip in the Thames.”

“I thought we’d go upstairs. There’s a rooftop pool that no one ever uses, and it’s heated.”

She stood. “Lead the way.”

“Just like that?” He followed suit more reluctantly.

“Shouldn’t you be more enthusiastic about getting me out of my clothes?”

“Yeah, but it’s so sudden.” He pointed to the table. “I put together snacks, and I haven’t even broached refreshments yet.”

“Refreshments, too?” she asked, grinning. She picked up a celery stick and dipped it in hummus. As she took a bite, she made a deliberate humming sound, as if the celery was the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten.

He frowned. “Are you making fun of me?”

“A little bit.” She took another bite, eyes twinkling. “Aren’t you going to offer me a beverage?”

“I have beer, wine, water, pretty much any kind of juice you could want—”

“Juice?” she interrupted.

“I press my own juice.” He shrugged. “It’s good stuff. Have you ever had green juice?”

“No.”

“I’ll make it for you sometime.” He lifted his finger with a sudden idea. “I know what you need. Mac’s dad makes the best whiskey in the world. We’re sneaking into his stash.”

Jasmine watched as he pulled out two glasses and a bottle from a cabinet in the kitchen. “Mac won’t mind?”

“Hell no. Besides, his dad really sends it for me.” Rowdy grinned as he added two generous pours to the glasses and dropped large block ice cubes in. “I’m the old man’s favorite.”

He handed her a glass and then led the way to the elevator. Putting in the code for the roof, they shot straight to the top.

The doors opened to a glittery view of the city. It never failed to make him stop and take it in, and he liked that Jasmine felt the same even though she lived here. He watched her go to the glass railing and lean out, staring at the skyline. “Have you lived in London all your life?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“My parents still live in the same house.” She turned around, her lips twisted in sarcasm. “Although calling it a house is deceiving. It’s really a mansion.”

He shrugged. “All princesses need castles.”

“I’d rather have had a cottage and two normal parents.” She stared at him from over the rim of her glass. “No comment?”

“Well, your dad is certainly a piece of work.”

“He doesn’t care for you overly,” she said mildly.

“He knows we’re going out?”

“He likes to keep tabs on me, and by that I mean he glances at my Facebook status once every blue moon,” she said, looking away.

What an ass. He felt grateful for his parents all over again. “Tell your dad I’m a nice guy.”

“Somehow I don’t think he’ll believe that after your display at the fundraiser.”

“I was fairly magnificent, wasn’t I?” He’d have to do something to make up for it. Usually he didn’t care about things like that, but he liked Jasmine. If he decided to have a relationship with her, it’d be better to have her father on his side.

That was jumping the gun. He set his drink down and nodded at the pool. “Should we do this?”

“Okay.” She reached for the bottom of her sweater. “Turn around,” she said when he made no move.

“Right.” Shaking himself, he turned his back to her, stripped down, and hopped in. The water was very warm—he’d made sure the thermostat was turned up earlier.

He eased toward the edge of the pool closest to the glass railing, because he could see her reflection in it. He said he wouldn’t look, and he wasn’t. It just happened that the reflection was there. Only a fool wouldn’t look at such a glorious sight.

“I know you’re watching,” she said from the other side of the pool.

“Of course I’m watching. I’m not daft, as you Brits say.” He watched her reflection as she eased herself into the water. “As if you didn’t watch me undress,” he said, turning around after she was fully submerged.

“Maybe.” She flashed him a wicked grin and swam toward him. “This is lovely. I used to go swimming all the time, but now I don’t have a pool.”

“You used to?” he asked, liking the look of bliss on face.

But the bliss faded as she said, “My parents have a country house, but I haven’t been there in a long time.”

“Why not?”

She frowned. “You aren’t shy, are you?”

“Not at all.” He rested his arms on the rim of the pool. “So? What’d Daddy Dearest do to drive you away? It had to be a doozy for you to stop going when you obviously loved it there.”