When they arrive at The Regent, Giovanni heads straight through the opulent lobby to the front desk. It’s busy despite the late hour.
“What are we doing?” Lindsay asks as they wait for the next available staff person to help them.
“We’re getting you a room.” When he notices her worried expression, he clarifies, “I’m paying for it, don’t worry.”
She only nods.
When it’s their turn, he tells the clerk he needs a second room for the night. They find her one on the floor above his, but when he takes his credit card out she touches his arm.
“Don’t get me a room. I’ve changed my mind.”
“You have?” He sees how the stress of the day is wearing on her. There are shadows below her eyes, strain on her face. His instinct is to fix all this for her somehow.
She smiles with embarrassment. “I don’t want my own room.”
Her voice is soft, but there’s no hint of seduction. It’s clear she’s feeling vulnerable. He puts his credit card away. “Come on, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”
They arrive upstairs and, as always, the room’s been freshly cleaned with the bed turned down. Unlike the other night, when she moved around with ease, Lindsay stands there looking awkward.
“You can have a seat,” he tells her.
She nods, her movements a bit smoother now as she goes over to sit on the edge of the bed.
Giovanni calls down to housekeeping and tells them he needs someone to come up and get his laundry.
“Do you want to order room service?” he asks her, still holding the phone. “Maybe you should eat.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a small smile on her face. He suddenly remembers the last time they spent the night together in a hotel and how much they both enjoyed room service.
“I can order a cot brought up too,” he offers.
She appears to be thinking something over. “Do you really think the police will come back to my studio and check for fingerprints and hair samples?”
“No.” He puts the phone down. “I only said that because I wanted to scare that stupid bastard.”
She nods. “Werner’s probably still in Berlin though. We could tell the police how he’s lying about being in Frankfurt, and they could check his phone records.”
“It’s worth mentioning.”
There’s a knock at the door, and he answers it to find the maid from housekeeping. Lindsay rises and takes the canvas bag they offer her for laundry, stuffing it with clothes from her suitcase.
After they leave, she gathers some of her things and tells him she’s going to take a shower.
While she’s in the bathroom, Giovanni grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge and stands in front of the large window, gazing out at the picturesque view of Berlin at night.
What a crazy day. But then he’s used to crazy days.
There’s sexual tension in the air, but he can’t tell if it’s only coming from him. Fighting this attraction to her is taking a lot of effort.
Fighting an attraction to a woman who will soon be my wife.
The irony isn’t lost on him.
He figures he’ll call Phillip tomorrow to tell him the good news, and speak with the lawyer to get the wheels rolling for the adoption. He needs to start thinking about his move to Seattle too.
Eventually, the bathroom door opens and Lindsay emerges. Her long dark hair is damp, and her face is scrubbed clean of all makeup. She’s wearing a white camisole with pink flowered pajama bottoms. She looks like a college sorority girl. It surprises him. He’s not into college girls, but the look is a good one on her. Different than her usual seductress aura.
She comes over to stand beside him, and he still can’t take his eyes off her. Without asking, she takes the bottle of water from his hand.
“Appreciating the magnificent view?”
“I am,” he says.
She drinks from the bottle and hands it back. Her eyes shine like onyx. Giovanni tries to relax, to ignore the want pulsing through him, his body stirring in reaction to her.
Maybe I should have gotten a second room for myself.
He doesn’t want to stare at her in that skimpy top, but he can’t seem to stop himself. It certainly isn’t hiding much. Her breasts are small and lovely and fit her slender frame perfectly. He tries to remember what her nipples look like, but it’s been too long. A flash of memory comes to him where he’s licking them, sucking each one in turn, her moaning in his arms.
Jesus.
“So, when do you want to get married?” she asks, gazing out the window, a resigned note in her voice.
“Uh . . .” He licks his lips, momentarily unsteady as he tries to recover from the memory. “I figure I’ll arrange everything as soon as possible.”
“Are we going to Italy?”
His brows come together. “No, what gives you that impression? I figured we’d go to Las Vegas.”
“What?” She turns to him, her eyes large. “Why can’t we go to Italy? I thought you were Italian.”
“It’s true I have dual citizenship, but getting married in Italy would take forever.”
“Why is that?”
“Because nothing bureaucratic happens quickly in Roma. Las Vegas will be much faster. We’re both going back to the States anyway.”
She’s obviously unhappy with this explanation.
“Do you have a problem with Las Vegas?”
She doesn’t reply for so long he starts to wonder if she’s going to.
“I grew up there,” she finally says.
“You did?”
“Yes, remember my father was a professional gambler. We split our time between Reno and Vegas when I was a kid.”
“That’s right,” he murmurs. “Do you still have any family there?”
“No. My dad died, and my mom lives in Arizona with her second husband.”
“Las Vegas is our best option.”
She still appears unhappy.
“I need to fly to Italy first before we get married,” he says. “I have some things to take care of with my apartment. I figure that will give you time to tie up whatever loose ends you have here.”
Lindsay doesn’t say anything, just gazes out the window.
“Look, I’m sorry about how all this is going down for you. I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if I didn’t think it very important.”
“Why are you doing all this?” She turns to him. “I’m sure you want to help, but don’t you think this is a bit above and beyond?”
Giovanni considers telling her about the debt he owes Paul, but rejects the idea. “Paul was a close friend, and I want to make sure his kids are safe. I’m lucky to have the opportunity to help.”
She studies him. Her expression tells him she suspects there’s more to the story, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she leans against the window frame. “Another marriage that ends in divorce. I’ll be a three-time loser.”
“It’s not like it really counts.”
“I suppose not.” She sighs and glances toward the room. “I’m exhausted. Do you mind if I go to bed now?”
His pulse spikes at her words and his balls tingle. He can’t help it. The cobra within him begins to uncoil. “How do you want to handle the sleeping arrangements? Should I call down for a cot?”
She hugs herself and seems embarrassed, just like she was downstairs. “Do you think we could share a bed and not have sex?”
He swallows. “I . . . yes, we could do that.”
“I don’t want to torture you. It’s just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s been a long day.” She takes a deep breath. “An awful day.”
The cobra stops completely and Giovanni’s pulse slows again. He puts his arm out. “Come here.”
She hesitates at first, but then goes to him. Her arms tighten around his waist as she rests her head against his shoulder. He holds her close, stroking her back over the camisole. Her hair is still damp, and its clean scent fills his nostril
s.
There’s a peculiar tightness in his chest as he comforts her. He suspects Lindsay is seldom vulnerable like this. Such a tough girl, making her own way in the world. It occurs to him that, with her beauty, she could have easily married for money. Plenty of wealthy men would be more than happy to have a woman like Lindsay on their arm, but it’s obviously not her style. He can’t even imagine her happy in a situation like that.
When they pull apart, she gives him a brief smile and moves to climb into bed.
The sheets rustle behind him. He does his best not to think about her body as he stares out the window again and finishes the last of his water.
It’s going to be a long night.
Finally, he tosses the empty container into the trash and goes into the bathroom to change. He usually sleeps in a pair of boxers, but figures he should wear more, so he throws on a white T-shirt from his travel bag.
Leaving the bathroom, the room is dark with only the city lights reflecting off the walls. He makes his way over to the bed and sits on the opposite side from her.
This is where the problem begins.
He already has a hard-on. Like an idiot, he realizes he should have jerked off in the bathroom to take the edge off. He’s ready to get up and do just that when she stirs beside him.
“You kept my fox.”
He nods, but then realizes she can’t see it in the dark. “I did.”
“Do you like it?” Her words slur a little—sounding sleepy.
“I like her very much.”
"Her?"
"Yes, isn't the fox a girl?"
"I suppose so." She sighs. “You needed her.”
He’s not sure what she means by that but realizes it’s true. Giovanni lets his breath out, closes his eyes. I need a lot of things.
Instead of going back to the bathroom, he climbs into bed beside Lindsay. Pulling the duvet up, he tries to pretend this is all normal.
In bed with my future wife.
A surreal thought comes to him where he wonders if this is what it feels like to be in an arranged marriage. He’s met plenty of people over the years who are in them, as it’s still common in many parts of the world, yet he’s never really considered what it must be like.
Marrying someone you barely know.
He closes his eyes and tries not to think about this soft beautiful woman beside him. Figuring he’ll be awake all night, he starts going over his schedule for the coming weeks. He hates surprises and always prefers to have a plan, to prepare himself for any contingency.
“Would you mind rubbing my neck again like you did before?” Lindsay asks, her voice breaking his reverie.
Giovanni stiffens, but then he realizes she only wants to be comforted. He rolls on his side toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.”
“Lindsay . . .”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She changes position so she’s on her stomach, her face turned away from him. “That neck thing you did was really good.”
He groans to himself. “All right.”
Sitting up partway, he brushes her hair to the side and puts his hand to her neck, touching her smooth skin. Her neck muscles are definitely tense, so he begins to massage them again.
Right away, she sighs, and it goes straight to his dick. The scent of her skin, clean and feminine, drifts toward him. His hard-on, which never left, feels like iron now, and he figures he’s going to have the worst case of blue balls in the history of man.
He tries to ignore it, concentrating instead on helping her feel better.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admits after a little while, her voice soft. “Walking into my studio and finding it torn apart. The violence of it.”
His jaw clenches as he thinks about how he’d like to tear Werner apart, limb by limb. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”
“My whole life has been turned upside down in one day.”
“It’s true,” he murmurs quietly. “At least you’ll have the money from our arrangement.”
“It’s not the same.”
Giovanni nods. It certainly isn’t the same for her. He sits up a little more and moves from rubbing her neck to using both hands on her whole back over the camisole. Her breath hitches and unfortunately, the sound only fans the flames, exciting him further.
“I know you don’t think much of my playing poker,” she goes on. “But there’s a reason I worked so hard at it.”
“What reason is that?”
She hesitates, but then tells him. “Don’t laugh, but I’ve decided to go back and finish my degree. I just got my acceptance letter before I came here. I want to teach art to high schoolers.”
He takes this in as he pulses his fingers down her spine, getting tangled in her top a little. He tries to imagine Lindsay as an art teacher. Every boy in class will be in love with her. “It sounds great. How much more schooling do you need?”
“A couple years, plus I’ll have to get my teaching certificate.”
“That’s not too bad.”
“I’ll still be an artist, but it won’t be my only gig.”
“What about poker?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she sits up and, to his astonishment, reaches down and pulls her top off. She’s still facing away from him as she lies back down on her stomach again.
“There,” she murmurs. “That should make it easier.”
His head swims as he stares at her naked back. Easier for who? He swallows hard and tries to calm his lust. His eyes have adjusted to the dark room, and her skin is milky in the light coming through the window.
There are tattoos on her back. He already noticed the one on her right shoulder. It’s written in a simple script and says, ‘We make our own luck.’ There’s a lotus flower on her left shoulder and then down near the center of her back, there’s an elaborate Queen of Hearts playing card. His fingers go to it, tracing the design. In truth, he has mixed feelings about tattoos, especially when a woman has skin this beautiful. In his professional experience, most people want to remove them.
“Does your Queen of Hearts have special meaning?” he asks, still tracing his fingers over it.
“Strength,” she murmurs. “And that I own myself, my own heart.”
Giovanni nods, taking this in. He wants to taste her—badly. Finally, he can’t resist any longer and leans over, putting his mouth to her smooth skin. He drags his chin, rough with stubble, over the center of the tattoo and is rewarded with a breathy moan from Lindsay.
Taking that as a sign, his hands slide down to grasp her hips. She lifts slightly though and turns, looking at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing? Get back to work.”
He chuckles, despite the need pulsing through him. His erection aching and heavy.
When he starts rubbing her back again, she lies down and sighs some more. His breath is becoming erratic. He wants to stop this lust, but it’s like a train run off its rails. He keeps stroking her for a little while, trying to convince himself he can enjoy the feel of her skin without wanting more.
But he does want more. A lot more. He wants to lose himself in her. He needs it. It’s the one thing that will help. He nearly gave in to it earlier—God, he wanted her so badly—but that was before she agreed to marry him.
Now he knows he can’t use her like that.
Finally, he stops touching her, pulls away, and swings his legs over the side of the bed, ready to go into the bathroom and take care of this himself. It won’t really fix it, but it’s better than nothing.
Lindsay sits up too. “I think the last time a guy seduced me with a back rub was high school,” she jokes.
He doesn’t respond. He wants to joke, but he’s far past it. Guess I really am humorless.
“Hey.” Her voice softens. “Is everything all right?”
He’s sitting with his head bent down, forearms resting on his thighs as he tries to gain control over himself. He feels like the worst kind of asshole. He should be c
omforting her after what she’s been through today. But it turns out I need some comforting of my own.
She runs her hand down his back and he closes his eyes.
“It’s best if you don’t touch me,” he tells her roughly.
Of course, she doesn’t listen. When does she ever? Instead, she scoots closer until he senses her right beside him.
He swallows. “Listen, Lindsay. You should stay away from me. Let’s not turn this into something it’s not.”
“That’s what my sister told me, that I should stay away from you. She said she’d heard stories about you from Anthony.”
His brows go up. He should be more surprised than he is, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even have to ask what she’s heard. “The stories are true.” He licks his lips, and when he speaks, his voice sounds guttural. “The fact is I’m not always a good man.”
She grows still. “Why do you say that?”
He doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even know how to explain it to her.
“Is it the reason you left me alone in that hotel room after we slept together?” There’s an edge to her voice, and he turns to look at her. She’s naked from the waist up, and he can’t stop himself from being mesmerized.
“Yes.” He turns his head away. “That’s why.”
“I was pissed at you for that. In a way, I still am.”
“You should be. I told you before, I’m an arrogant prick.”
For some reason, she’s stroking his back again. It feels so good he knows he shouldn’t stay. He needs to get up, needs to leave this room.
“Tell me why. Is it because you feel trapped?” she asks.
His eyes go to hers. It’s dark, but they can see each other well enough. “No, that’s not it.” And so, against his better judgment, he tries to explain it to her. He explains how, when you live on an adrenaline high for a long time, it can be difficult to come down. “It’s different for everyone,” he tells her. “Some people smoke or drink. They’ll use something artificial to get back to their baseline.”
“What do you use?”
He doesn’t want to admit it—not to her, not to anyone. He’s never admitted it because he’s too ashamed. “I think you already know,” he croaks. His eyes find hers again and, to her credit, she doesn’t look away. There’s comprehension dawning on her face though.
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 11