by Bethany-Kris
Calisto laughed. “No. I’m not that talented. I may understand how to play and be able to pick up a tune easily enough, but I can’t write music.”
“But it is an unpublished, unrecorded piece.” Emma turned in the seat, watching him with a burning glint lighting up her green eyes. “I may hate playing the piano, but I do like to listen to it. And like I said, I’ve never heard that before. I was curious who it belonged to.”
“My father,” Calisto said, wishing his chest wasn’t as tight as it was. “He composed the piece.”
“And your mother taught it to you.”
“Yes. What does it matter?”
“Curious,” Emma repeated. “You never mention them. Not with any depth. And then I see you with the piano, treating it with kind hands, and I had to wonder about it all. It helped that Maximo mentioned he knew your father had played the piano before his death. I might have drawn a few conclusions.”
Irritation simmered below Calisto’s skin. “So, you assumed the piece had come from my family, came out here to pester me about it, and tricked me with a few questions to get me to admit to it? What is the point in that?”
Emma’s smile faltered. “I just wanted to know more. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“There’s nothing to know. My father played, he taught my mother, and she taught me.”
“Does it remind you of them?”
“Leave it alone, Emma. Please.”
Emma nodded, and rested back in the seat with a soft exhale. “I used to dance when I was younger, and then when I was a teenager. Ballet, actually. My grandmother was a ballerina. My dad’s mother, not my mom’s.”
“So?”
“So, I grew up on her knee learning about ballet, seeing pictures of her in her costumes and whatever else. I stopped dancing when I was seventeen.”
Calisto looked over at Emma, taking notice of the way her lips turned down at the corners and her hands balled in her lap. “Why seventeen?”
“My father told me ballet was an unimportant goal for me in the end. I never really understood why he felt that way until the whole marriage thing came up. It makes sense now.”
“Doesn’t explain why you quit.”
“My grandmother died,” Emma said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my family is very materialistic. Being wealthy and significant is more important to them than anything else. It was more important to them than giving me time and attention while I was growing up.”
“Your grandmother gave that to you instead.”
“Yeah. Ballet didn’t quite feel the same after. I was happy to give it up. My father was happy I gave up on a dream he didn’t support.”
“Win-win,” Calisto muttered.
“Apparently.” Emma lifted a single shoulder like it didn’t make a difference. Calisto could tell by the wetness coating her lashes that it made every difference to her. “Anyway, my point is that it’s nice you’re able to keep something close to you that reminds you of your parents without it hurting you. I wish I had the same thing for my grandmother.”
“It does hurt me,” Calisto said before he could stop himself.
He wanted to take the words back immediately.
Emma stilled in the passenger seat. “Then why play?”
To remember.
To punish himself.
To apologize.
“For a lot of different reasons,” Calisto settled on saying. “But tonight, I played so that you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t seem comfortable. I didn’t think you wanted to have everyone looking at you after what happened. It was a small sacrifice.”
“But you hurt now,” she said, seeming confused. “Don’t you?”
“But you didn’t have to.”
For Calisto, that was all that mattered.
Turning his head, Calisto stared out the opened driver’s window. He wondered if anyone had noticed that both he and Emma had left the dinner party without a goodbye. He supposed it didn’t make a difference.
Calisto didn’t mind Emma’s presence disturbing his peace, either.
“Calisto?” Emma asked softly.
“Hmm?”
Her hand rested on his thigh, and Calisto jerked in the seat at the innocent touch. The problem was, her touch couldn’t be innocent at all. Not with the way he currently felt, the things he had done, or the lines he had already crossed with a mighty “fuck you.” He hadn’t been expecting it, and he didn’t even hear Emma move in her seat.
Calisto barely had the chance to spin around and face Emma again before her mouth pressed against his. It was soft at first, smooth like her plump lips, and then her fingers dug into his leg like she was demanding something from him.
He didn’t know what it was.
Instinctively, Calisto wanted to push her away. He wanted to kiss her back, too. The crazy side of his brain won, the side that listened to his selfish wants and not his needs.
Or maybe he needed it, too.
Calisto didn’t know.
But he did grab onto Emma’s dress. He fisted the fabric around his taut knuckles, and pulled her a little closer. His tongue swept the seam of her lips, wanting more, needing to be deeper, seeking her heat and taste.
A little wouldn’t hurt, right?
Just a little more.
Emma sighed a sweet sound, giving into his unspoken demand by parting her lips. Calisto took the offering for what it was, kissed her harder, and let his tongue war with hers until she was gasping for air. Pulling away enough to catch a breath, Emma tipped her head up and hummed.
Calisto couldn’t help himself but lean forward and kiss her chin.
He was fucking stupid.
Why did she make him so stupid?
“I should go in and say goodbye,” he heard Emma say.
Calisto was too distracted by the flimsy fabric of her dress in his hands. A little pull with just enough strength and he knew that the dress would rip. She was close, and he could grab her around the waist before pulling her into the backseat.
The windows were tinted.
No one would see.
A little more wouldn’t hurt.
“Calisto,” Emma said.
His name in her mouth sounded divine. He would bet his bottom dollar that it would sound even better if she was bent over something sturdy, stretched full of his cock, and screaming his name to the heavens.
“Calisto.”
He met her gaze, unsettled and unsure.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“I should go in and say goodbye.”
“You’ll see them in New York.”
Emma wet her lips, drawing in his attention to that pout of hers. “I meant for the evening.”
Oh.
Calisto let her go.
Emma fell back into the seat with a shiver. “We’re going to get in trouble doing this.”
“Trouble” wasn’t a good enough word for what would happen to them both if someone even whispered about what had already happened. Calisto chose not to correct Emma.
“You have to know what this is for there to be something,” Calisto murmured.
And maybe if they didn’t label whatever it was, it wouldn’t exist.
It was ridiculous, sure.
Calisto didn’t care. He was still trying to make sense of the mess he had now found himself in, a mess of his own causing. For a smart man, one who followed the rules and knew what was right and what was wrong, Calisto was sure proving how fucked up he could be.
Or rather, how fucked up he truly was.
Broken, maybe. Calisto knew what made him this way—callous, reckless, and selfish. He had learned as a young man that when a bed was made, it was made to lie in.
Emma caught his stare again, holding strong. “We shouldn’t do this, Cal.”
“No, we definitely shouldn’t,” Calisto agreed.
Calisto knew that they probably still would.
It wouldn’t lead to anywhere good.
It couldn’t.
Unbeliev
able.
Calisto stared down at the notification lighting up the screen of his phone.
Flight USAir B-2473 to New York, New York canceled due to weather conditions. All flights will be rescheduled and updates provided. We’re very sorry for the inconvenience, and hope to have more information soon.
The sky above Las Vegas was as clear as it had ever been. The same couldn’t be said for New York, apparently. A blizzard that was expected to miss the state changed direction in just enough time to cover everything in a good three feet of snow. It also ended up causing the cancelation of every flight going into or out of New York.
Damn.
Calisto hadn’t counted on this happening. His bags were packed and waiting at the penthouse door along with Emma’s four-piece luggage set. This wasn’t good at all. He expected to be in the air in two hours. He wanted the distance that New York would provide him to clear his fucking head of Emma Sorrento and the nonsense Calisto had going on.
Now he couldn’t do that at all. His damned penthouse apartment, the one he had been using, was emptied and then had been filled by a new guest with reservations. That left Calisto with Emma’s apartment to stay in, or he could grab them a hotel closer to the airport.
A pressure landed on Calisto’s shoulders, pushing him down under the weight. It was like the world was conspiring against him. Shrugging the heavy feeling off, he dialed a familiar number and put the phone to his ear. Three rings later, Affonso picked up the call.
“I heard,” Affonso said the moment he answered. “They expect the storm to pass in a day and have flights coming in within two days.”
“Saves me the time of explaining,” Calisto muttered.
“I’m sure everything will run smoothly and on time when you get here. The dress Emma purchased arrived today, so let her know for me.”
Great.
“Will do, zio.”
“And it’s appropriate, I should add. Thank you for that, Cal.”
Calisto’s brow furrowed. “You looked at her dress?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s her wedding dress, Affonso.”
“It’s just a dress, my boy. I couldn’t let the girl wear just anything. I had to make sure it was okay.”
“Then what in the hell did you send me in with her for, if you were going to look yourself?” Calisto demanded.
“Your attitude is strong today. Awfully touchy, are we?”
Calisto snapped his mouth shut. “No, not at all.”
The sound of running water drew Calisto’s attention to the back hallway of the penthouse. The place was mostly empty, and had been for a while. Emma had said she wanted to jump in the shower before they left to catch the flight. Knowing she was just a short stride away, naked and wet, did not help Calisto’s little issue of keeping a distance and a clear head.
It didn’t help his still semi-hard cock, either. It wouldn’t go down. It hadn’t gone down since he’d felt her body, made her come, and he was left, still wanting more.
“I’ll let Emma know about the dress.”
“This flight mess has you stressed. I can hear it in your voice. Don’t worry about it, Cal. Everything will be fine.”
Affonso was wrong.
Nothing would be fine.
His uncle didn’t have a clue.
“Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and we can go,” Emma said from behind Calisto.
“Don’t worry about rushing,” Calisto replied without turning away from the windows. “The flights to New York are canceled for today, and maybe tomorrow, too. A blizzard came through and practically shut the state down.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. You’ll get one more night in your bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Emma didn’t respond. Shooting a glance over his shoulder, Calisto watched as Emma turned away and walked back in the direction of where the bathroom was located. She had a towel wrapped around her figure, and had left her damp hair to hang in waves down her back. His gaze traveled over the curve of her waist that was accentuated by how tightly the towel was pulled, and the swell of her ass that swayed as she walked.
She was all natural. All of her. Calisto’s fingers twitched, wanting to feel her warm, smooth body under his palms and taste her clean skin with his kisses and tongue.
Why did it have to be her?
Why did Emma—the one woman that was off-limits—have to be the one that finally made him take notice and want something?
You’re not going to do this, he told himself.
Not with her.
“Calisto?”
Emma’s sweet call of his name, all innocent and quiet, made Calisto snap out of his daze. He lifted his gaze from her backside to her eyes. She had stopped walking and was looking right at him.
Calisto couldn’t even feel ashamed to be caught staring.
Beautiful things deserved attention.
Emma was incredibly beautiful.
“You don’t have to take the couch, Cal,” she said.
Calisto swallowed hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t put that out there, Emmy.”
“Maybe we can just … get it out. It might work. One night, Calisto. And then we forget it ever happened. You get what you want, and I get to pretend for a night that things could be different. What will it hurt?”
Everything.
Calisto didn’t know how to explain that to Emma. His thoughts were silenced when Emma let the towel slip enough to showcase her naked side and still damp skin. Under thick lashes, she watched him from the shadows.
The offer was there.
Offers were meant to be taken.
Once might not be enough.
His self-control was gone.
“Don’t do that,” Calisto said again, one last time.
Emma let the towel drop even more. “I just did.”
Fucked.
They were so incredibly fucked.
Calisto’s restraint wavered, and he stepped forward.
Closer to sin.
Closer to his next mistake.
It was bad, but it had to be good.
He knew it was wrong.
It still felt right.
Emma
Calisto’s hand snagged Emma’s wrist the moment she stepped into the bedroom. Emma didn’t even get the chance to turn around and face him before he pulled her into his chest, drove his hand down her stomach, and yanked the towel away.
Emma sagged into Calisto’s arms when his hand slipped between her legs. He didn’t say a thing, not one word. His other hand palmed her ass while he started kissing her skin everywhere he could kiss.
Air cut through Emma’s teeth in a hiss as he stroked her bare sex with two fingers. She knew what his hands could do to her, but she wanted to feel something thicker, longer, and harder fucking her.
“Just tonight,” Calisto rumbled from behind her.
Emma nodded. “Yeah.”
“Fuck it out.”
She laughed, breathless and unsure. Her body was already singing, wanting this man.
“It’s stupid, I know,” Emma mumbled, tilting her head back to rest on Calisto’s shoulder.
“It is.”
Emma was pushed away from Calisto before she could say another thing. Confused, she spun on her heel to face him, only to find he was pulling at the buttons of his dress shirt, and working the zipper of his pants at the same time. Calisto kicked off his pants, keeping his gaze on Emma all the while.
Something dark was in his eyes.
Something hungry—starved.
Emma knew the feeling. She hoped that this one night with Calisto would serve to get rid of whatever craziness was wrong with her. She needed it to go away.
They couldn’t be.
Calisto’s shirt hit the floor. “You’re fucking beautiful, Emmy.”
Her mouth went dry when he shoved his pants down. His erection strained against his boxer-briefs, thick and heavy.
“Am I?” she asked.
“You won
’t be told nearly enough by him, I know it. I just wanted to let you know.”
Emma wet her lips, her heart thundering loudly. She was naked standing there in front of him, but she didn’t have the slightest urge to cover up her body or the imperfections he might be able to see. Why should she, when he called her beautiful, and sounded so entirely sincere that it almost hurt to hear it?
“Don’t make this sweet,” Emma told him.
Calisto met her gaze, his eyes a wild-black and burning. “I don’t want to use you, Emmy.”
“I don’t need or want sweet, Cal. I don’t want it to linger like it would if it was like that. Don’t do that tonight.”
“Okay.”
Calisto shoved his boxer-briefs down, and his cock was freed to his hand. He fisted his length with quick, firm tugs, drawing Emma’s stare down to his dick. Her stomach clenched with need. She watched as he bent down and pulled a foil packet from his discarded pants pocket. Quickly, he opened the condom and rolled it down his length without hesitation. He took two long strides, let go of his cock at the same time, and grabbed her face in his hands.
Emma took a single breath before his mouth was crushing down on hers. His teeth nipped against her lips, making her skin sting. His fingers bit into her skin, promising and wicked. She let him own her with his kiss, feeling his tongue dance with hers, taking away her air while he sought more of her heat.
“I bet you’re wet for me,” he mumbled against her mouth. “You’re shaking already.”
The huskiness of his voice was a drug.
So damned addictive.
“Fuck me,” Emma demanded.
Just once.
It would all go away then.
Her feelings.
The craziness.
Her confusion.
It would go away.
Right?
Emma’s thought process dropped off when she found herself spun around and shoved forward. Her knees hit the bed, and then Calisto was behind her. His hand buried into her hair and pulled with just enough force for it to hurt. His palms snapped against her inner thighs, forcing her legs wider.
It felt like fucking heaven.
“This is what you want?” Calisto asked. “Mi vuoi?”
She shivered. “Sì.”