“It’s women, isn’t it?”
He nods. "It is."
Lindsay pulls her hand away and stops stroking the taut muscles of Giovanni’s back. She knows she should listen to him, should stay away. He’s right about that.
Too many women fall into the trap of thinking they can fix a man. Her own philosophy has always been that it’s better to find one who doesn’t need fixing.
Yet, here she is, wavering, ready to swim in that ocean.
It’s his genuine smile from earlier, the way it moved her. And those butterflies. Nobody has affected her like this in a long time, and she senses he’s more than a match for her.
She thinks about how much it takes to bring a man like Giovanni to his knees. A lot. It would take a lot. He must have been pushing himself in ways that were inhuman.
It doesn’t change anything about what he’s just admitted though.
“It’s wrong, what you’re doing,” she tells him. “Using women like some kind of sexual vampire.”
“You think I don’t know that? For years, I’ve been telling myself it’s no big deal.” He lets out his breath. “But I know it’s despicable.”
“You need to stop that shit.”
He snorts. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?”
“Have you ever paid for it?”
“No, of course not.”
She watches him closely to see if he’s lying. “Why not?”
He smirks without humor. “Despite my apparent undesirability on the marriage market, I’ve never had any trouble finding bed partners.”
“Wouldn’t it be simpler to pay someone?” She’s still watching him. If he sleeps with hookers, then that’s it for her. Game over.
“I’ve known women who were prostitutes and the abuse that brought them there.” He shakes his head. “I could never be a part of that.”
“Not all women who do it are abused.”
“I worked at a strip club years ago, and a lot of the girls prostituted themselves on the side. I saw enough to know it’s not a profession anyone chooses because they enjoy it.”
Lindsay is still processing his words. “You worked in a strip club doing what?”
“I was a bouncer.”
So it’s true what he told Dagmar. But at a strip club? It sounds bizarre and out of character for him. “How old were you?”
“Twenty-one. I dropped out of college for a while. It was right after—” He stops talking abruptly. “Forget it.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t a good time in my life. That’s all.”
“Did you sleep with the strippers?”
“No, I just told you.”
She tries to imagine Giovanni at twenty-one. Handsome, cocky, and probably irresistible. “I doubt they would have charged you anyway.”
“It didn’t matter. I wasn’t interested in any of them.” He grows quiet. “That’s all in the past now. It was a long time ago.”
Lindsay wants to hear the rest of this story, but there’s finality in his tone, and she already knows how difficult it is to get information out of him when he doesn’t want to give it.
He’s still quiet. The discussion must have brought up bad memories for him.
“When you first mentioned working in a strip club, I thought maybe you were a dancer,” she teases, hoping to lighten his mood.
His eyes flash to hers. “What?”
Giovanni’s a big guy, and graceful too, but she can’t picture him dancing. She remembers how they first met at an after-party that had a DJ, how he stood off to the side with his hands tucked into the front of his jeans, watching her dance.
“You know, like those ‘Thunder from Down Under’ guys.”
His eyes widen. “You’re kidding. You thought I danced?”
“Sure, why not? You have a great body.”
And then, to her surprise, he bursts out laughing. Full on laughter like she’s never heard from him before. It’s infectious, and she can’t stop from laughing too.
“Jesus, you have no idea . . .” He finally calms down, wiping his eyes. “Try to picture Frankenstein’s monster having a seizure. Because that’s what I look like when I dance.”
“Really?” Lindsay laughs some more. “Sounds kind of hot.”
“It’s mostly disturbing. People usually think I need medical attention.”
“Come on, I can’t believe it’s that bad. You have such a graceful walk.”
“Yes, thank God I can handle walking, at least.”
“Does that mean you won’t dance for me?” She allows her voice to take on a seductive note.
He hears it too. She sees how his body stills, the way his eyes go to hers.
She’s already made the decision. It was up for debate when she came here tonight, but now it’s certain. Seeing her fox on his nightstand was the first thing that swayed her. Then it was the way his hands felt on her skin, the warmth of them burning through all the stress of the day until there was nothing left but ashes.
That’s why she pulled her top off.
So, despite everything—the warning bells clanging in her ears, the crazy shit he just admitted to her about himself—she’s diving into those waters again.
He shakes his head. “We both know this is a bad idea. You don’t want this. Not really.”
“But I do.”
“You’d let me use you like that?”
She wonders who’s using who though. “Despite your overbearing personality, I happen to find you very sexy. I even fantasized about you.”
“You did?”
“Yes, I used you as vibrator fodder.”
“Is that so?” he murmurs. His voice has grown huskier, and she can tell his body is onboard even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet. “You may have to explain what that means in more detail.”
“I could do that.” She slides her hand down his back, stroking him again, watching as he closes his eyes. “Have you fantasized about me at all?”
“Too many times to count.”
She figured he had, but it’s always nice to hear these things. “What’s your favorite fantasy about me?”
He opens his eyes, his expression thoughtful. “What am I going to do with you?”
She smiles. “I have some ideas.”
“Seriously, I can’t offer you anything. You know that, right?”
“Just don’t vanish on me,” she tells him quietly. “That’s all I ask. I don’t want to wake up alone tomorrow.”
He licks his lips. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“But you did.”
“We’re getting married, remember? I can’t.”
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”
Giovanni grins. “I’ve never met a woman like you before. In fact, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“That’s most certainly true.”
He reaches out and touches her hair. “It’s like unwrapping a beautiful gift only to find there’s another gift inside, one that’s even more lovely and unique.”
Lindsay stops breathing. She feels her eyes sting and looks away.
“Do you really want to know one of my fantasies?” he asks.
She nods, still trying to pull herself together.
He shifts on the bed. “Come here and stand in front of me.”
She rises to her feet, does as he asks, and stands between his open thighs.
“God, yes,” he murmurs, his hands sliding over her body. “That’s perfect.”
He grasps her hips. She’s shirtless but still has on her pajama bottoms. His arms wrap around to bring her closer, pressing her against him. She runs her fingers through his short golden waves, inhaling the light scent of hotel shampoo. He’s solid muscle all over, but his hair is remarkably soft.
He continues to hug her tightly, the side of his face against her breasts. And that’s all he appears to want.
The intimacy of holding her.
Minutes go by, and they rema
in this way, her throat tightening as she strokes his hair. Her hands glide down to his shoulders. It’s like they’ve done this a thousand times—the warrior home from his battle at long last. But then she remembers that Giovanni doesn’t really have a home, not in any true sense.
“How long has it been since you were with someone?” Lindsay asks softly, curious.
“Eight months.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s a long time.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to change my ways.” He pulls back a little and puts his mouth to her skin, kissing the space between her breasts. “To stop being—how did you put it? A sexual vampire.”
“By going celibate?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.” His hands slide around to cup each breast, caressing, and molding. “Guess I’m all about extremes.”
His voice is rough, breathing harsh, as he drags his thumbs across each of her nipples. Finally, he takes one in his mouth, gently sucking.
Her breath catches. With every flick of his tongue, there’s a pulse between her legs.
He continues licking and suckling her, single-minded about his task. Desire floods her veins like warm water, and she’s amazed at how good it feels. It’s been too long since she’s felt this way. Sensual and alive.
He draws back from her breast and immediately wants her mouth, bringing her to him then kissing her in a slow, involved way.
When they draw apart, their breath mingles. She senses he’s trying to pace himself, how he’s struggling with it.
The need coming off him is like some kind of erotic perfume, impossible to resist. She can’t believe he hasn’t had a lover in so long. And then there’s the knowledge that she’s the one who broke him.
Lindsay likes that way too much, even if she shouldn’t.
She decides to take the reins and goes down on her knees in front of him. Giovanni tries to stop her, but she ignores him. “Let me do this for you” is all she says.
His eyes stay on her, dark and absorbing. She sees the desire, but the vulnerability too. His mouth opens and he shakes his head, but it’s not because he doesn’t want what she’s offering.
“Take your shorts off,” she tells him.
He pauses for a second then wordlessly stands and strips off his T-shirt first, then his boxers. She admires his powerful body, runs her hands down the length of it. Especially those muscular thighs—such perfection. She grips each one, wanting to take a bite, but figures she’ll save that for later.
His erection is large, jutting out in front of him as he sits down on the bed again, but she doesn’t reach for it yet. It pokes against her when she moves closer to put her mouth on his chest, his skin salty beneath her tongue. She goes to each pebbled peak and does what he did to her, gently suckling and pulling.
His breath goes ragged as he slips his hand in her hair, fingers kneading her scalp.
After a short while, he urges her back up. “Kiss me again,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. His mouth on hers is deliberately sensual as their tongues slide over each other’s.
They’re still kissing when she reaches down for his cock. He freezes. She’s ready to pull away with concern, but then he groans into her mouth—a rough sound between desperation and relief.
A wave of protectiveness washes over Lindsay. She may be the one on her knees, but he’s the one at her mercy. A heady thrill with any man, but especially one like Giovanni, and she doesn’t want to abuse her power.
She continues to stroke his erection. He’s big, just like she remembers. Not scary big, but long, plump, and currently hard as steel.
“Do you want me to blow you?” she asks, licking her lips, already totally turned on. She knows he wants her to, but she’s always enjoyed a little dirty talk.
His mouth opens, though no words come out. Apparently, he’s beyond speech. His eyes, half-lidded, are so glazed with lust she can see it even in the darkened room.
She’s still using her hand with a loose grip. Finally, she tightens her fingers, leans forward, and goes down on him while his breath comes out in a long hiss.
His body tenses, a sheen of sweat developing on his skin as she uses her lips, tongue, and a slight grazing of teeth on his shaft. After a short while, she looks up at him and smiles. “Say, ‘Yes, Lindsay, I want you to suck my cock.’”
“Jesus . . .” Giovanni shudders.
She lowers her voice provocatively. “Say, ‘I love the hot, wet feel of your mouth.’”
He swallows, closes his eyes again, and licks his lips. It appears he’s trying to gain some measure of control. “This is going to last two seconds if you keep that up.”
She lets out a shaky breath of her own. His excitement is turning her on more than anything. “We have all night, don’t we?”
He nods. “But I’d like to survive it.”
“Listen to you,” she says, squeezing the plump head, rewarded with a bit of moisture. “Making jokes in the heat of passion.”
He emits a deep growl. “Come here . . . right now.” He drags her up to him even though she protests.
“But I want to suck your—” He cuts her words off with his mouth, devouring her, his fingers holding her still for him as he kisses her deeply.
Ohmigod.
His arousal is having a powerful effect, her control slipping as he pulls her out with him, far away from the shallow water and into the deepest part of the ocean.
“I’m taking over now,” he mutters, tugging her hair to give him access to her neck where he gently bites, licking her afterward like a real vampire.
This time, she’s the one who shudders.
“Get on the bed,” he tells her.
Lindsay pulls back but doesn’t go anywhere.
He puts his hand to her jaw, meets her eyes. “Please.”
“The magic word,” she murmurs.
She climbs onto the bed again, his hands still on her like he doesn’t want to lose contact, and lies down on her back.
He shifts onto his knees as his warm hands continue to stroke her breasts. The city lights reflect on his face, and Lindsay watches his fierce expression as he caresses her. His eyes are roaming over her like she’s the first woman he’s ever seen. It’s all so good—unlike anything, and she wonders if there’s something to the notion of a person with healing hands.
“There are a lot of doctors in your family, aren’t there?” Lindsay remembers it from Natalie and Anthony’s wedding, how many of his relatives were physicians or did something in the medical field.
Giovanni’s breath is steadier now that he’s in charge. “Yes, especially my dad’s family. Why do you ask?”
“It’s your hands.” She smiles a little, embarrassed to admit it. “They’re so soothing. I wonder if it’s like a talent or something, to have a healing touch.”
“Probably.” He doesn’t say anything more on the subject, and she can tell he’s too distracted by her body. His fingers hook into the sides of her pajama bottoms. “Let’s take these off.” He starts tugging them down.
She lifts a little, and he pulls off both her bottoms and panties at the same time, tossing them aside. When she relaxes again, his hand is on her hip before it glides down to her legs. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs, letting his fingers lightly graze her skin. “Everywhere . . . so soft.”
Her breath comes out in a shaky rush when he slips a hand between her thighs. He groans with approval when his fingers gently slide to where she’s wet and ready for him.
She grasps his forearm, watching him through slitted eyes as he strokes her very core.
Giovanni brings the fingers that were touching her to his mouth and closes his eyes. He seems mesmerized by the taste.
“You should kiss me down there, lick me,” she suggests, hooking her leg around his hip to draw him closer. “It’s one of my fantasies.”
He grins a little. “Mine too.”
But he doesn’t go down on her, simply continues caressing her skin. His fingers trail down her leg
s, then up her inner thigh as she squirms with anticipation. Despite his obvious excitement, it’s clear he’s pacing himself—a man savoring the experience.
Finally, he changes position and lies down on top of her so they’re face to face. The hard column of his erection pressing into her stomach, she shifts a bit before wrapping her arms around his neck.
“Am I crushing you?” he asks with concern.
“No.” He’s heavy, but she doesn’t mind. “I like it.”
Giovanni brings his thigh up and presses it against her center. And then he starts kissing her again, one hand tangled in her hair, kneading her scalp. Each kiss is long and luscious and sinful, slowly fucking her mouth with his own. She can’t remember ever being kissed like this as he goes back and forth between her mouth and neck, drugging her with his own essence.
Occasionally, he tells her how she’s beautiful, how much he wants her.
Lindsay’s breath shakes. She doesn’t know how to respond. It’s too much. All this kissing and whispering is doing dangerous things to her. It’s turning her on, but it’s turning her inside out.
Her head swims and her stomach quivers, yet her whole body feels lighter and more alive. She’s worried, though, worried her own need has grown stronger than his. Her hips move, and she wraps a leg around him as she keeps trying to reach down for his cock, but he won’t let her touch him.
She’s going out of her mind, and it gets even worse because he starts whispering in Italian. Finally, she pushes against his shoulders. “Can’t you just fuck me? I’m going crazy.”
His response is some kind of rumble deep in his throat, which she’s certain is a chuckle. But then he rolls onto his back, bringing her with him.
“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs. “Come up and sit on my face.”
She doesn’t need to be told twice as she scoots up and maneuvers herself over him. She doesn’t face the wall, instead turning outward with plans of her own.
He grasps her hips, positioning her, and as soon as she feels his mouth and tongue, her eyes fall shut. The pleasure is over-the-top, and she simply allows herself to enjoy it.
Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) Page 12