by Remy Rose
So there’s that. My God, just thinking about it...
“Whoa, girl. Where’d you just go?” Allison is staring at me with amusement. “I'm guessing you took a quick trip to Italy?”
“Ha! I'm a feet-on-the-ground kind of girl, thank you.” I shift the tray on my shoulder and grin as I leave to bring the meals to my table. “We'll chat later.”
You will need to be prepared...
Kind of impossible to prepare myself if I don’t know when he’s going to show up. Of course, this is no doubt the whole point. It’s become obvious he thrives on being in charge, which I’m sure is part of the reason he’s so successful in business. Has he always been like this in his personal life? Or was there ever a time when he was the vulnerable one?
I ease open the folding tray stand next to the family of four at my table. I’ve got to give myself props for managing to do my job and smile at customers and take orders and clear tables, all the while thinking of tousled black hair and blue eyes and muscled arms.
* * * *
Four hours later, I’m slicing pies for the next day as part of closing chores.
“My favorite part of the shift.” Allison sighs contentedly. “The end of it.” She turns over the last of the chairs on top of the table and begins to sweep the floor.
“So true.”
“Okay, Cass. I've told you about my guy, we've made small talk, and we're almost done the chores, but you haven't told me one goddamned thing about how things are in Italy.”
I slide the spatula under a piece of pecan pie. “I know. I'm sorry. We're like—I don't know. And that's the whole issue. I don't know what we are, or if we're even really anything. I haven't heard from him much lately.”
Allison is beaming. “I can't stand it! The look on your face. You're actually upset!”
“And this is a good thing how...?”
“In all the time I've worked with you, I've never seen you pining over anybody. You've always had this wall around you, and no one's been allowed in. But the Italian Stallion's gotten to you, Cass. You may not want to admit it, but he's gotten to you. You want him—not just the sex part; you really want him.” Her eyes search my face as her voice softens. “I'm right, aren't I?”
Maybe it’s the quiet of the restaurant late at night, or the maternal way Allison is looking at me, or the fact that I’m tired after a busy shift and don’t have the strength to protest, but whatever the reason, I find myself nodding. It’s almost a relief, admitting it to someone.
“That's awesome! Does he know this?”
“No. At least I don't think he does. We've been mostly about the physical. I'm not ready to get into emotional stuff yet.”
“The first step is admitting it to yourself, doll. I'm proud of you. And I'm honored you shared it with me.”
I get a roll of plastic wrap from the cupboard and begin to rip off individual sheets to cover the pieces of pie. “I'm just saying I'm open to get to know him better. That's all. We don't have a commitment or anything.”
“No pressure here, girl. I understand.” She bends over to sweep her pile into the dustpan. “Whew. I'm done. Rick's supposed to be waiting for me in the parking lot. You want me to wait and walk out with you?”
“I'm okay—I just need to put out the salt and peppers and I'm out of here, too. But thanks. And have a good rest of the night. I'm happy things are going well for you.”
“Ditto, sweetie.” Allison puts the broom in the closet and comes back to give me a quick hug before leaving.
I wipe up the stray crumbs on the counter and put the filled salt and pepper shakers on a serving tray. Yawning, I deliver them to the tables, thinking about what Allison said. I’ve got to admit, it is a bit of a breakthrough, allowing myself to acknowledge my growing feelings for Carlo. Still...I can’t shake the thought that this is risky as hell. Ingrid's warning makes me uneasy. And Carlo's interest in me may have cooled. So even though I’ve decided I’m willing to open the door, there might not be anyone knocking.
Ughh. Maybe I shouldn't have shared anything with Allison, not when things are so ambiguous.
“I suck,” I say softly, to the empty booths of the restaurant.“This sucks.” Unexpectedly, my eyes fill with tears. I slide the elastic from my ponytail and put it between my teeth as I smooth my hair and twist it into a loose bun. I’ll have my own private pity party when I get home, complete with a bubble bath and a wine cooler or three.
Lights off. Door locked and checked, and checked again. And one more time, because Bruce was always paranoid. I wiggle the doorknob. There. Definitely locked. A ticklish, crawling sensation on the back of my neck. I cringe. Please, don't let it be a spider. I reach up to flick it away...and shriek as my fingers meet—
Fingers.
Oh. My. God.
“I've been known to make women scream, but never quite like this.”
Holy fuckkk. It’s Carlo. “What—what are you doing?” I don’t know whether to be more relieved or pissed off. I’m sputtering, my legs rubbery beneath me. “Jesus Christ, I—you—”
“I seem to have caught you off guard.” Carlo steps closer into the pale glow of the light outside the restaurant, folding his arms and smiling.
I’m actually not that mad anymore.
“Yes, you caught me off guard. You scared the shit out of me.”
He holds out his arms, blue eyes wide with innocence. “I told you that you needed to be prepared. Maybe next time you'll learn to follow directions.”
Exasperated, I shake my head. He moves closer and puts his hand under my chin, lifting it gently. “Cassandra. Were you crying?”
I can’t really deny it, but neither do I want to admit it, because if I do, he'll want to know why. And what the hell would I say, when I don’t even know for sure?
He pulls me into his arms and leans down so that his mouth is millimeters from mine. One of his hands slides up the back of my neck, his fingers splayed out under my hair. The autumn air between us holds the scent of his warm, minty breath and woodsy cologne, and I have to swallow hard to keep from whimpering.
“I've missed your mouth,” he murmurs.
I've missed your mouth, too. And your eyes, and your hands, and how you hold me, and the way you make me feel scared and protected at the same time. I've missed you.
“I smell like fried pickles,” I murmur back.
“I was thinking onion rings.” He nuzzles my neck, the stubble on his chin grazing my skin. “You smell delicious. And I'm quite sure you taste even better.”
I open my mouth to reply just before Carlo takes my mouth with his own. It is a deep, hungry, reconnecting kind of kiss, and I don’t hold anything back while I return it, not caring that my hair is falling out of its bun, not caring if there are others watching, not even caring if I’m coming across as pathetically needy. All I can focus on is how fucking amazing it feels to kiss him, and how badly I want him to touch me.
He breaks our kiss and straightens, his eyes warm and bright. “I actually came to ask you a favor.”
If it involves us touching each other in any way, I'm totally fine with it. “A favor?”
“Yes. I've been planning an engagement party for my sister, and I'd like you to go with me.”
I have to take a few seconds to process this.“Go with you? As in, your date?”
He nods. “The party is a week from tomorrow, and because it's short notice, I'd like to take care of getting you a dress. I'll need you to give me your measurements.”
“You don't have to do that.”
“It's my way of thanking you for going with me. And I have an ulterior motive, because if I get your dress, I can choose what I'd like to see you in.”
Oh. His date for his sister's engagement party. Is he starting to think of me more in girlfriend terms?
“There will be food, Cassandra.” Carlo's eyes are dancing. “Probably no Pop-Tarts, but food.”
“That’s mean. Really mean and uncalled for.”
“I like that y
ou like to eat. It's one of the many things I find adorable about you.”
I bite my lower lip in an attempt to keep from smiling. It’s an unsuccessful attempt.
“And your answer is...”
“You had me at 'food.' So, yes, I accept your invitation.”
“Excellent.” He grins and leans down to speak huskily in my ear. “Let's go somewhere a bit more private.”
Shivers and tingles all over me, like tiny electrical currents. I’m turned on by Carlo Leone. Literally.
Taking my hand, he leads me down the cobblestone sidewalk, past the hair salon and natural food store, between the pharmacy and chiropractic office to behind the row of buildings. There’s no lighting here, and I feel the crunch of what sounds like a plastic coffee lid beneath my foot.
Suddenly, Carlo turns to me abruptly, takes me by the shoulders and backs me up against the brick wall. I catch my breath as he presses himself against me, his lips on my neck. I’m shaking at this unexpected move, my hands climbing to rest on his chest. He quickly folds my arms behind me, placing my hands firmly at my back. “I've wanted to back you up against a wall since the moment I saw you,” he says hoarsely, in between neck kisses. “Back you up—hold you still—do whatever I want to you.”
A tiny moan works its way out of my mouth. He silences me with a kiss, sliding his warm tongue between my lips and grinding his pelvis against me. I am filled to the brim with the need to touch him, feel his smooth, hard cock in my hand...guide it inside me. I try to pull my hands from his, but his grip is tight, and he chuckles softly. “Someone's impatient.”
The throbbing between my legs intensifies. I want him to touch me. Now. Any doubt I was feeling, any worry I had lifts and floats away, and in its place are want and need, rushing through me like a river, pouring into the pockets of loneliness and filling me up.
My God, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone.
He’s holding my hands with just his left hand now. “Do you remember,” he whispers, “the time I came to your rescue in the parking lot?” He pulls the bottom of my shirt free from my pants, slides his free hand up to my breast, inside my bra and scissors his fingers over my nipple, squeezing it.
I gasp. “Yes, I remember.”
“Do you need someone to rescue you now, Cassandra? Do you need someone to save you from me?”
Once again, I’m totally caught off guard. At the very beginning, I would have undoubtedly answered yes. But now, even while pinned against a wall in the darkness with no one else in sight, I feel like Carlo is my rescuer. And the fact that he can be both dominant and protective is the most incredible aphrodisiac.
“Cassandra.”
“No,” I whisper. “I don't need anyone to save me.”
Except you.
Carlo expels a long, slow sigh and kisses the top of my head, his hand still inside my bra. My nipple swells and hardens between his fingers.
Voices, then, close by. Two silhouetted figures, walking toward the row of buildings—laughing males, their words slurred. I tense up, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, knowing they can see me pressed against the wall with Carlo's hand up my shirt.
“Ignore them,” Carlo says softly. “Your focus needs to be on me, and only me.”
Whaaat? I look up at him. Does he actually expect me to act like these guys aren’t walking by?
He speaks again in the same low, confident tone. “I'm betting they'll keep walking, but if they stop, I'll take care of it. Keep looking at me.”
Keep looking at him? This is so not what I’m about. I’ve never felt comfortable even kissing in public, for God’s sake. But overriding this is my want—my need—to please him.
Fighting the urge to squirm, I blink and look deep into Carlo's eyes. I’m aware of the men slowing their pace as they approach, their voices fading. Still holding my hands behind my back, Carlo tightens his grip as my arms begin to protest from being in this position. Slowly, he removes his hand from my breast, and I feel a momentary sense of relief...until he starts unbuttoning my pants. My God. What is he doing? The men are now only a few feet away, laughing as they realize the scene they’ve stumbled upon. My hope that it’s too dark for them to see anything has faded—clearly, they know what’s going on.
“Keep looking at me, Cassandra.” My neck is aching, but I keep my head tipped back to maintain eye contact. Carlo's hand is now inside my pants, his fingers working their way down. Oh my fuck. What if the men keep standing there while he touches me? Carlo can’t expect me to act like nothing is happening! But in spite of the extremely exposed position I’m in, I can’t keep from moaning when his fingers find my clit.
A slow, delighted smile spreads across Carlo's face as I continue to look at him. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “And now I'm going to make you come.”
He covers my mouth with his. From the corner of my eye, I can see the two guys jostling each other as they keep walking past. And I’m absolutely shocked to discover I don’t care if they stay.
The only thing I care about is Carlo touching me.
He’s kissing me deeply. I can hardly breathe. Weakened with want, I feel like my legs are going to give out underneath me, but I’m unable to move since Carlo has me pinned against the wall.
His finger circles my swollen clit. “Am I making you burn, Cassandra?” His voice is raw, rough. “I know you want me to fuck you, and that will happen. I promise you. But for now, I'm going to make you come another way.”
The momentary jab of disappointment I feel hearing he’s not going to be inside me tonight quickly, quickly disappears as he gets down on his knees. Oh, God...Carlo Leone on his knees, in front of me. Sliding down my pants, he takes my bare ass in his hands and pulls my pelvis toward him.
Jesus fucking Christ. He’s going to do this right here, right now?
I cry out as Carlo puts his mouth between my legs, his firm tongue gliding in and out of my opening as he grunts with satisfaction. He uses the tip of his tongue to graze my swollen nub with quick, tiny flicks of agonizing lightness, pausing to kiss it gently.
I am going to. Fucking. Scream.
As if he can read my mind, he pulls back his mouth to speak. “Not a sound, sweetheart. If you want me to continue, you need to take this without making one sound.”
How can I possibly stay quiet when he is doing what he’s doing with that mouth? But holy fuck, I don’t want him to stop. I feel like I’ll die if he stops. He’s squeezing my ass harder, holding it tight as he resumes the sweet torture. Now he is alternating between barely-there licks and long, slow, wet laps up my entire slit, varying the intensity as he brings me to the threshold of ecstasy.
My hands go to his hair, grasping fistfuls of it as he licks and sucks me into a mind-bending, whole-body-shuddering orgasm, while I fight to keep from crying out, because I want to obey him.
Taking great gulps of the night air, I’m shivering as Carlo slides up my pants and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He is breathing hard, too, grinning at me devilishly.
“My God,” I manage. “I can't even think.”
“You don't need to think. Just feel.” He wraps me in his arms, hugging me tightly as I sag against him. “You deserved that. I'm very happy with your progress.”
“So do I get a gold star?”
He laughs, kissing my forehead. “I'd like to give you so much more.”
I loop my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his chest and breathing in the scent of him as my climax ebbs. It feels like I’ve been given some sort of test and passed. As incredible as the orgasm was...it’s even better knowing I’ve pleased him.
chapter twenty-eight ~ Carlo
It’s a good thing I have some driving time—about twenty-five minutes—before I pick up Cassandra for Gianna's party. I plan to get my thoughts in order and rein in any stray feelings. Staying away from her these past couple of weeks was hard. I’d told her I was going to be out of town and busy with work, which is partly true...I did visit so
me end users and was tied up with employee performance reviews. And leaving her in the parking lot that night was fucking brutal. She looked so beautiful and was so ready for me. I had a primal need to take her then. But I didn’t—wouldn’t let myself—and even though it had just about killed me to walk her back to her car, I consoled myself with the fact that reason had won out over want.
And I need to keep to this path. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing her tonight, but I’m also thinking that inviting her to the party might not have been the best idea. The way her face looked after I asked her...Christ, she looked so happy, which made me instantly question this move. I didn't want it to mean as much as it did to her. Further complicating things is that Brock is going to meet her tonight. And I want Cassandra as far away from Dall as possible—just a gut feeling I have.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel in frustration. I need to stop feeling like I have to fucking shield her from things. It’s ironic, really, given what I’m planning to do.
I’ll allow myself to enjoy her tonight, and for the rest of the time we’ll have together. Which won’t be long. Brock’s been a major pain in the ass, taunting me with warnings that he was days away from his showcase. The banter between us has always been part of the competition, but this time feels different—duller, somehow. Dark. It’s not about lust and anticipation and excitement—it’s about feeling like I have to go through with it to prove something.
Ahh, fuck. Got to shift mental gears. I need to focus on Gianna's and Jordan's happiness tonight, and having a good time with Cassandra. I’m grinning, thinking of the little favor I asked Brenda at Bent Brook when I called a few days ago. Brenda agreed to it, although she was probably questioning my sanity. Inside joke, I told her. It’ll be worth it—Cassandra’s reaction will be priceless.