by Tami Lund
“How about I check back in another two weeks? We’re really making progress, and she needs to offload this house as soon as possible.”
“She? I hope you’re getting nightly blow jobs for this favor.” And then the line went dead. Not that Samuele would ever admit to the man that no, he wasn’t getting blowjobs. He wasn’t getting anything at all.
Except her friendship.
“Everything okay?” Lola called from the doorway. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and headed toward the house.
“Yeah, it’s good.” It wasn’t, but he wasn’t about to burden her.
She followed him to the bathroom. “You aren’t acting like it’s good.”
He picked up the sledgehammer. “Let’s just get back to this, okay?”
“I realize I’ve done most of the talking in our relationship, Samuele, which, to be honest, has been really therapeutic. But I’m a good listener, too. You should give me a try.”
He snorted. “Anything I have to share would require a whole lot of stiff drinks ahead of time.”
“Then why don’t we call it a day and head over to your place for those stiff drinks?”
He dropped the sledgehammer with a thud. “Are you hitting on me, Lola?”
4
Totally Not A Date
She shook her head, even backed up a couple of steps for good measure. “N-no, no. I’m not. No.”
Oh yes she was. “Oh my God, I think I am.”
He laughed. “You didn’t even realize that was what you were doing?”
She shook her head again. “I guess not.”
“Okay, look. We’ll go to my place. Grab a pizza on the way. And a bottle of that rosé. That goes with pizza, doesn’t it?”
She nodded.
“We can watch a movie or play cards or do any fucking thing you want. Except that.” He lifted his finger, like he was reprimanding her.
“Except what?” she asked dumbly.
“Fuck.” He said it so matter-of-factly, and holy wow, was it hot.
“Um…”
“I’m serious, Lola. I’m not good for you. I may not be Enzo the bastard ex, but I’m a pretty damn close second. We can be friends, but that is it.”
It was like he was issuing her a challenge. I dare you to try to seduce me. Damn, what was wrong with her?
Everything had been going along just fine for the past two weeks. He’d helped her with the remodel, showing up every single day, seven days a week. When she asked about his job, he said he was between contracts at the moment, so had plenty of time on his hands.
And he was spending it all with her. Fixing up her house. And getting nothing at all out of it. In fact, he was spending even more money than she was. He’d bought the new door, steel, which she knew wasn’t cheap. And that electrician—she only wished she’d ever made an electrician’s hourly wage, and the guy had spent almost a week repairing and replacing wiring.
Not to mention the drywall and the paint and the food. She didn’t have a working stove at the moment, so they either ate out or they went back to Samuele’s place to eat. And they never seemed to run out of wine, either, although she supposed he drank a lot more than she did.
But still.
“You are nothing like Enzo,” she insisted.
“Do you want to go back to my place or not?”
She nodded.
“Then drop this subject. Now, let’s go. Are you showering here or there?”
“There, if you don’t mind.” The pipes in this house were rusty as hell, and she had to run the water for ten minutes until it ran clear before she could brush her teeth or make coffee or bathe.
“Of course I don’t. I’ll grab the dog.”
His condo had two full baths and two bedrooms. She’d been tempted more than once to ask if he minded if she crashed there, but something had always held her back. Apparently, it was her fear of rejection, which, as it turned out, was a valid concern.
After her shower she twisted her hair into a bun and clipped it on top of her head. Samuele told her at least daily that he liked her hair curly, so she’d only straightened it once since she met him. They spent most of their time working on her house, so there was no point in applying makeup.
The one thing she hadn’t yet let him see was the handful of cute little sundresses she owned. Her favorite outfit at this time of year. But of course, not practical for remodeling a house.
Today, she pulled on a fitted yellow one with a scoop neck, tiny blue flowers stitched into the fabric, and a flouncy skirt that brushed the top of her knees.
The way he looked at her when she stepped into the kitchen made her wonder if maybe he was second-guessing his decision to just be friends.
He offered her a glass of wine and a plate piled with two slices of pizza. “You drive a hard bargain, you know that?”
“What do you mean?” She followed him into the living room and dropped onto the couch next to him, curling her leg underneath her and taking a generous bite of pizza.
“This dress. It’s beautiful. On you. I feel like we should be going out instead of staying in.”
“Maybe we should, one of these days. Just as friends, of course.”
He snorted. “Maybe.”
He flipped through the movie options on Netflix until he landed on one they could both agree on, but then he pressed pause. “How about tomorrow?”
“What about it?”
“Let’s go out.”
“Really? I haven’t been out dancing in forever.”
“Sounds like we’re going dancing tomorrow.”
She smiled behind her wineglass. This was totally a date.
This is not a date.
Maybe if he told himself enough times, he’d finally start to believe it. To be fair, it wasn’t starting out as such. Because the pipes at that piece of shit house she lived in sucked she was here, in his home, getting ready, so there was no pickup. He’d seen her before she headed into the spare bedroom to shower, and she’d come out halfway through getting ready to grab a glass of wine, so it wasn’t like he would be surprised by her appearance when she was finally done.
But then she opened the door and stepped into the living room where he was waiting impatiently, and holy hell, had he ever been wrong.
Her smooth, straight hair fell almost to her ass when it wasn’t curly. That smoky eye makeup, heavy on the mascara. Those kissable, berry lips. That dress. A tight, red number with only one sleeve and missing half the damn skirt.
Great, now he wanted to fuck her more than ever.
And yeah, this was totally a date. Because he was about to act like the biggest fucking alpha male on the planet. If some other guy so much as looked at her he was getting punched in the face.
As she breezed past him, she patted his chest. “What’s with the flexing muscles?”
“You.”
She paused and arched her brows.
“You’re fucking beautiful.”
She laughed. “Thanks. You clean up nicely too.”
He’d showered and shaved and put on a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, and wore a pair of black jeans. He didn’t look anywhere near as nice as she did.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
He escorted her to his truck, holding the door and then her hand so she could climb up into the passenger seat. They went downtown. She had the biggest grin on her face when they walked up to the club and there was a line to get in. But she frowned slightly when he led her over to the bouncer, exchanged a few words, and tucked a couple of bills into the guy’s breast pocket. The guy unhooked the rope and let them cut in line.
“I told you I’m bad news,” Samuele whispered next to her ear as he followed her, so close that his eager dick kept bumping her ass, into the club.
She shivered and twisted her head to look at him, and the smile was back. She was so close he could drop a quick kiss on her lips. She’d probably roll her eyes and laugh it off, but he managed to
hold himself back. Barely.
She cupped his face. “You’ve been pretty good to me so far.”
Of course she’d say that. Sometimes he gave serious consideration to actually telling her who he was, what he did for a living. She sure as shit wouldn’t be able to sugarcoat that.
But he didn’t, because even though he needed to not strike up a romantic relationship with her, he honestly liked their friendship, and he wasn’t in a hurry for it to end. And if she knew anything at all about him, it would definitely end.
Rightly so.
They wound their way through the crowd to the bar, and she ordered a girly drink while he settled on a local brew in the bottle.
The place was packed, writhing, sweaty bodies crammed onto the dance floor, swaying and grinding to something upbeat from the ’90s if he had to guess.
“Hurry up and finish your drink,” she said, standing on tiptoe to reach his ear. “I want to dance.”
He glanced at her hand, but it was empty. She’d apparently downed her drink. Of course, those pink ones usually tasted like Kool-Aid, so no big surprise.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll watch.”
She shook her head. “Nope. You’re going out there with me.”
Hell yeah, he was. She was a fucking siren, and he was Oedipus, heading straight for the rocks. He was going to crash, spectacularly, and he was going to have a huge smile on his face and hearts in his damn eyes as it happened.
He placed his half-full beer on the bar and took her hand, and she led him out to the dance floor. Once she found a spot she liked, she turned and lifted her arms, doing a little shimmy that was so damn sexy he wanted to press her against that pillar over there and fuck her into next week.
Oh, he had it bad. He hadn’t realized how bad until that moment, though. When he placed his hands on her hips and deliberately brushed his fingers against the top swell of her ass while he moved his body to her same rhythm, slowly and gently pulling her closer until they were pressed together, their bodies moving as one; that was when it hit him.
He was going to fuck this girl tonight.
Samuele was an amazing dancer. He was especially good at the sensual moves. It was like he was mimicking sex, which, she supposed, was the purpose to those steady, rhythmic beats. But it was more than that.
Something had changed tonight. He was…different. Less reserved. He wasn’t keeping himself in check like he’d been doing for the past two weeks.
And she loved it.
She loved it when he danced around behind her, wrapping his arm around her midsection and splaying his hand on her abdomen, his fingers a hairbreadth away from inappropriate in public territory. Rubbing his erection against her ass, dropping kisses onto her exposed shoulder. He was getting her so riled up, she wanted to suggest they head to the restroom together so they could screw up against the wall. Just a quickie, to take the edge off. Later, when they were exhausted and done with dancing, they’d go back to his place and get naked and take it slow, a lot slower. Like all night slow.
She shivered.
“Cold?” he murmured before nipping at her ear.
She giggled. “Hardly.”
He twisted her around to face him, keeping her practically molded to his body as he dipped his head down next to hers. “You know this is happening tonight, right?”
She swallowed and nodded.
“You need to understand that I really am not a good guy.”
He kept insisting that, yet his actions positively screamed otherwise.
She cupped his face, holding him so that they could make eye contact. “You are good enough for me.”
He blinked, and then he dropped his face until his mouth pressed against hers. Tilting his head, he opened his lips and thrust out his tongue, and she met him halfway, twining her hands in his hair while he squeezed her ass and dragged her up and down against his erection.
“Home,” she said, gasping as she broke the kiss, shaken and desperate for more, yet still lucid enough to realize they should get the hell out of this place before they got kicked out for public indecency.
“Yes,” he said, and he grabbed her hand and led the way off the dance floor.
“Samuele.”
He stopped abruptly. Lola reached out and caught herself against his back before she embarrassed herself by bouncing off him and possibly falling on her backside.
“Haven’t seen you in a while. Where’ve you been?”
“Home improvement projects,” Samuele said, his voice sounding strange, not at all like him. “Taking some time to get some shit straight.”
“I heard rumor you were offered a permanent position on payroll.”
Samuele grunted.
“You got someone hiding behind you? Who’s back there?”
Whoever Samuele was talking to leaned to the side so he could peer over Samuele’s shoulder at her. He was a couple of inches shorter than Samuele and wider in the shoulders. His dark eyes roved over her person in an uncomfortably predatory way, like he was a wolf and she was a rabbit and she was about to be dinner. Lola gave him a bland smile and shifted her gaze to the side.
“Damn, you know how I like the redheads. And she’s a hot one. You always get so fucking lucky at these places.” The guy clapped his hand onto Samuele’s shoulder, but Samuele brushed him off.
“We’re getting out of here. See you around, Vito.”
The next thing she knew, Lola was being propelled so that she was in front of Samuele, and with his hands on her hips, he guided her out into the muggy June evening.
He was breathing like he was having a panic attack.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Yeah, fine. I just…that was a mistake.”
5
Make All My Dreams Come True
She had no idea what he thought was a mistake, but she feared it was the decision for the two of them to sleep together tonight.
Luckily, that proved most definitely not to be what he was referring to.
As soon as he parked his truck in the garage, he was out of his seat, hurrying around to open her door, practically pulling her from the vehicle. And then he was behind her, bumping into her as he leaned over her shoulder to stuff his key into the lock and shove the door open. There was no mistaking the bulge pressed against her ass.
Tippy came flying out, greeting them as if they’d been gone for days instead of hours, and Samuele ushered the pup out into the backyard before he could piddle on the garage floor.
Then they were back, Samuele walking through the door with the dog tucked into the crook of his elbow and, seriously, was there a more sexy image than a muscular, slightly dangerous-looking guy holding a cute puppy?
Even if said guy had a look on his face that was more determined than sensual.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lola asked, her breath hitching as he stalked toward her and used his free hand to cup the back of her neck before dropping a bruising kiss on her lips.
“I will be. At least for a little while. Do you want to shower before bed?”
She smoothed her hands over the front of his shirt. “Together?”
“Hell yes.”
“Then yes, I’d love to shower.”
He motioned for her to walk ahead of him, so she led the way to the master bath in his bedroom. The moment she stepped into the doorway, his hand was on her back, sliding down the zipper on her dress.
He nudged her forward, and she stepped in front of the mirror, locking eyes with him through the reflective glass while he pushed the single sleeve off her shoulder and the entire dress fell to pool around her feet. He dropped his gaze to stare hungrily at her breasts, her belly, and the pair of sheer red panties that didn’t hide anything at all from view.
Still standing behind her, he cupped her breasts, and she watched in the mirror as he thrummed her nipples with his thumbs. Lord above, this was the most sensual moment she’d ever shared with a man, and they had only barely begun.
He k
issed her shoulder, nibbled his way along her neck to her ear, while one hand slid down to cup between her legs. She widened her stance and moaned.
“I’m going to watch you come,” he whispered before gently biting her lobe.
She gurgled and nodded, her gaze fixed on his hand, on the finger that slid underneath the thin fabric and stroked through her folds. She reached around and grabbed his ass, pressing her body against his, more than half afraid her knees would buckle under his ministrations. And then he pumped into her, once, twice, three times, before adding a second finger, the heel of his hand rubbing against her clit, and she was so worked up, all that dancing and the anticipation…
“Come for me, Lola,” he whispered as he watched her in the mirror.
She obeyed. Oh God, did she ever obey him.
And her knees did indeed buckle, so he wrapped his arm around her and lifted her onto the counter before he shed his own clothes. His erection bobbed against his abs when he pushed his boxers down his legs, a pool of precum forming at the tip. She used to enjoy giving blow jobs until Enzo had taken away the pleasure in the action. Should she give it a try again? The idea of bringing Samuele to orgasm while she sucked him off was making her hot all over again.
“I like it when you look at me like that,” he said, reaching into the standing shower to flip on the water.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me up.”
She giggled. “That was precisely what I was thinking.”
He arched his brow and then gestured at the shower. “After you.”
She hopped off the sink, wiggled out of her drenched panties, and stepped under the spray. He followed, closing the door and crowding her against the smooth, stone wall even though there was plenty of room for the two of them to have their own space. But when two people decided to take a shower together, doing it apart wasn’t exactly the intent.