Seducing the Tycoon (International Temptation)

by MK Meredith

  “Shit, love! Why didn’t you say something?”

  He raised a brow as she shimmied into her clothes. “Because that would happen.” He waved his hand at her jumpsuit.

  She shook her head with a grin. She’d never gotten dressed so fast in her life, and her shaky legs weren’t helping. A quick look in the mirror allowed her to run fingers through her hair and add a bit of gloss to her lips so no one would be the wiser. She caught Drago watching her, and he held her gaze. His jaw was set and his eyes were dark with something that made her stomach tighten. He distracted her in too many ways. Things she should worry about she brushed aside, and those to brush aside, she worried about.

  Addi’s voice echoed in her head. When do you get home?

  What if I already am?

  Her chest strained against her racing heart, and she dropped her gaze. Oh God. He was about as open to commitment as Italy was to becoming American—and she’d never ask him to, anyway. She was no more than an exotic fling to him, a visiting heiress.

  And what if that was all she was to him? What if all he saw was the same skin-deep things everyone else saw: the bold flirtations, the Huntington name? She chewed her lower lip. It was better not to know, and to enjoy what they had right now.

  She gave a mental shake of her head as she busied herself with buckling the seat belt. Nothing to worry about. He had no idea about the ridiculous detour her mind had taken. Though the unfamiliar path was disconcerting, since she’d always prided herself on remaining pragmatic in all situations, especially anything having to do with sex. But with Drago, it was as if her heart was connected to her vagina—a problem she’d never had in the past. Damned traitor.

  Drago ducked his head to catch her gaze. “Are you okay?”

  She forced out a casual chuckle. That actually might be easier to handle than her damn feelings. Where was Addi when she needed a good solid slap back to reality? Oh yeah, back in Malibu. Exactly where Chase was working so hard to be.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I think landing has turned me for a loop. I’ll be good once I’m on solid ground again.” But there was no solid ground when it came to Drago.

  He continued to study her, but didn’t press any further.

  Within minutes, they landed and taxied to a private gate. Drago whisked Chase to a car, and they were on their way.

  “If I remember correctly, I promised you some shopping, but now that I’ve thought about it, the Colosseum might be more up your alley. They have night tours.”

  She grabbed his arm. “That sounds amazing, love.” Her heart raced in a whole new way. It was a dizzying sensation to have someone get her like this. She couldn’t remember a time anyone ever had before. Looking out the window, she studied the star-studded sky and the landscape as it faded into evening. “Rome by night is breathtaking.”

  “Everything’s illuminated. A very different perspective of the city.”

  She grabbed his knee. “Perfect.”

  His eyes flashed. “You keep that up and we really won’t have any time.” Trapping her roaming hand, he nibbled her fingers, sending a shiver up her spine in promise.

  She leaned toward him and pressed a thorough, hot kiss on his mouth. “Grazie.” As he tilted his head to take it further, she scooted out of his reach and opened the door. He lunged across the seat toward her with a growl.

  Laughing, she reached her hand out to him. “Come on. You have a city to share with me.”

  A devilish grin spread his mouth wide, and he joined her by the trunk. She changed her shoes, then slid her arm through his offered one. “I’m ready.”

  He pulled her into his side. “We’ll hang back a bit during the tour. I bet you could run circles around any tour guide in Rome.”

  A flush washed across her skin, warming her chest. It was silly to be so pleased, and even worse that she couldn’t help herself. She studied his profile as they made their way toward the Colosseum.

  Ever since she’d met him, she’d been prepared to say good-bye. And she’d be a fool to let a romantic trip to the Eternal city change that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drago opened the door into their suite, then held it as Chase stepped through.

  “This has been such a beautiful night,” she told him. “First the success of dinner, then Rome by the light of the moon. It’s a dream I never want to wake up from. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much I needed a night off.”

  She turned and grinned, stopping him in his tracks. There was something about her—her smile, the way she treated those around her, the thought she put into her business—that was different from anything he’d experienced before. Most of his colleagues, hell, all of his colleagues couldn’t care less about anything except the bottom line and how it affected their pockets.

  She used what lined her pockets to make sure the people involved in her business were a top priority. And he had to admit, so far Huntington House was marked to thrive. He’d been wrong to ever think her spoiled, and his error in judgment revealed more questions he wasn’t prepared to answer.

  Tracing her delicate brow, he caressed a line to her jaw, studying every curve of her face so he’d be able to recollect it perfectly once she was gone. He’d had many women, and never had he missed any one of them once it was over. But Chase would be gone in a week. His chest grew heavy and tight.

  With his thumb, he rubbed the warm, soft skin of her bottom lip.

  “Thank you for coming, for showing me your vision of Rome. I’ll never look at it the same again.”

  Drawn to taste her, he hovered his mouth over hers, close enough to feel her breath, but not so close that he was lost. Her large brown eyes dilated, and her breaths came fast and short. He struggled with his control around her, with how deeply he fell, but he didn’t like it at all. He loved it.

  And that was a huge problem.

  “Drago?”

  Her whisper hit his lips before his ears, and he straightened. Pressure continued to build in his chest, leaving him on edge and uncomfortable. He needed to get himself under control; he needed to take control. She threw him so far from being the Dragon, it left him disoriented and weak.

  Time to turn things around. Taking her by the hand, he led her to the bathroom. The clean, modern lines softened under the dimmed lights.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  He adjusted the water temperature on the wall mount outside the shower door and spoke softly. “You’re exhausted, I’m exhausted.”

  Stepping behind her, he untied her halter and let it slip toward her waist. The scent of mango and cocoa butter wafted toward him as the fabric caught at her hips, then fluttered to the floor.

  She sucked in a breath.

  The room became warm and dense with fog from the shower. He placed his fingertips on each hip, then followed the gentle curve to her waist. Goose bumps flared along her back as he continued up to the line of her shoulders. Brushing the side of her neck with his lips, he gripped her upper arms and stepped into her and tried to ignore how perfectly they fit together.

  She dropped her head to the side, exposing the long column of her throat. His hands twitched, his muscles tightened, and his mouth watered. But this wasn’t a moment for urgency. It was one to savor. To control.

  Because if he didn’t find a way to wind down, to step back, he might just fall completely. And that would be a disaster.

  “I want to touch you, then I want to hold you.” His voice was quiet but full of an unfamiliar need.

  She turned and pressed her mouth to his with a desperate moan. He let himself sink, but only long enough to feel the sensation race through his body, then using every ounce of strength he possessed, he pulled back. Her immediate frown lightened his heart, and he chuckled. “Sometimes, it’s important to simply let someone take care of you, Chase.”

  Her sweet lower lip disappeared as she worked it with her teeth.

  He slipped out of his own clothes, then backed her slowly into the shower. With featherlight strokes, he
touched her brow, her jaw, the delicate line of her collarbone.

  “Drago.”

  “Shhhhhhh…” he replied, pressing a finger against her lips, then replacing it with his mouth. He tasted her, only a sampling, then positioned her under the spray.

  Her eyes flared as the heat of the water met her back, then they grew heavy. “So I’m supposed to stand here?”

  “You’re supposed to let me take care of you.” Lathering a cloth, he marveled at the curve of her high, firm breasts and the generous dip at her waist. Her black hair, slicked straight back, framed her face in the shape of a heart thanks to a widow’s peak he’d never noticed when her short spiky fringe was styled. Dark eyes watched him, somewhat wary, somewhat confused, not a little impatient. And it was the impertinence, her need to do something, to make something happen, that had him falling all the harder. “You’re stunning.”

  She smiled, dropping her eyes. “So are you.” Reaching for him, she closed her hot, wet hands around him, and it was all he could do not to take her right there against the wall. His body fought to break the tethers he’d applied.

  She tortured him. “I want you.”

  Pulling in deep breaths through the humid little world they’d created in the shower wasn’t easy, and neither was talking. “I want you, too. But—”

  She raised her hands. “But what?”

  His smile was slow. And his movements slower. Turning her toward the spray, he positioned the cloth high at her shoulder and dragged it down her back in long, firm strokes. He’d already memorized every dip and valley of her body in her room, and again on the plane. So this moment wasn’t so much about learning as it was about loving.

  No. Not loving.

  He squeezed his eyes closed. Hell no. Love was about as useful as a criminal accountant.

  He rubbed the cloth along her collarbone, pulling her back against his chest. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her mouth opened, water droplets gathering, then dripping from her upper lip.

  He couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight. Adding more lather to the cloth, he encouraged her to lift a leg to the bench, then rubbed from her toes to the inside of her thigh. The higher he went, the slower he went, moving in deep, firm circles. His other hand trailed along her hamstring to the sensitive skin behind her knee.

  Her breath hitched, but he found her eyes closed and her head dropped back.

  His whole body tightened painfully.

  This was a test of his self-control. If he could have this moment, give this moment to her, it would prove that he was still in charge. Still able to walk away and be walked away from—regardless of his memories, of his denial.

  And while he was testing his own limitations, he’d imprint himself on her in a way she’d never forget, make her miss him as much as he surely would her once she was gone. When she went back to the States, she’d think of him at least as often as he’d think of her—or at least every time she took a shower.

  It was hell already that every morning he passed the coffee and pastry bar, he was reminded of her taste for sweets, and with every old building came the echo of her passion for history. Every day would be faced with constant reminders of Chase Huntington until he figured out a way to scrub her from both his brain and Ferrara.

  Finishing the other leg, he sat on the bench and turned her to lavish as much attention on her ass as possible while the water still ran hot. Her backside was full, with skin so smooth he couldn’t help but slide his cheek along each globe and finish off with a firm but gentle bite.

  A sharp intake of breath was her only response.

  With a hand on each hip, he turned her once more, then pressed a kiss to her stomach. He trailed his lips up her torso, breathing in the mango and cocoa butter that was as much her scent as the salty air was the sea’s.

  Nuzzling under one breast, he ventured a bit higher, then closed his mouth around the dark, rosy skin of her areola. A low growl rumbled from his throat, and she whimpered in answer.

  Standing, he added a little shampoo to his hands, then massaged his fingers deep into her hair. He scrubbed the tips of his fingers back and forth over her skull. She’d long past given in to his ministrations, and now her chin rested on her chest.

  He rinsed them both, then grabbed a large, heated bath towel.

  No words, no rushing. No need.

  So much need.

  Rubbing her dry one inch at a time, he couldn’t decide if she was more beautiful on the inside or the outside.

  Either way, che figa, she was stunning.

  By the time he finished, her breathing was deep and even. With little effort, he carried her to the generous bed and laid her in the center. He turned off the lights, then joined her. Carefully, he pulled her into the crook of his arm, her head resting on his chest.

  She stretched her legs alongside his. “I’m so sleepy.”

  “Good,” he whispered.

  Her lips pulled up at the corners as her body settled more deeply against him.

  His chest tightened. A vision of her walking away haunted the dark room. What was wrong with him now? He’d just maintained more control than ever. He was in charge, able to manage himself in any situation. Yet as he lay there staring into the darkness with his body tightly bound from his denying it release, all he could focus on was how perfectly she fit into his side, how the scent of her comforted him, and how the gentle rhythm of her breathing matched his own.

  He’d tried to shift gears to create distance. But while his body melted around hers, his mind was crowded with contradictions. Why was everything more complicated in the insulated blanket of the night?

  Well, he’d simply remind himself she was a choice. One he could walk toward or walk away from. Nothing more, nothing less.

  An ache formed behind his eyes, but he closed them against it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After very little sleep, they’d hiked up Gianicolo Hill for a gorgeous sunrise, then relaxed in the open air at La Portineria. Drago should have been tired, but instead he found himself energized as they walked back toward the hotel. On an appreciative sigh, he spread his arms wide. “You’ve got to love having choices.”

  She slid her gaze toward him. “Choices?”

  “Choices give you options, excitement, adventure. When you’ve created a life with endless choice, you can go anywhere, do anything.”

  Tilting her head, she studied him. “It sounds romantic, but I think it would get lonely. I want to put down roots, make a home that I don’t want to run from.”

  “Having choices isn’t running away from anything, it’s running to something.”

  “Is it?”

  “What would you propose, then? Being trapped in a marriage with two kids and a dog where traveling is only a dream and choice is a chess game of responsibilities? No, thank you.”

  He swore the look on her face was one of disappointment, but she replaced it with a smile.

  “No answer?” he pushed.

  “I don’t think my answer will interest you. But having a family is a choice. Belonging somewhere is a choice. I’m tired of floating about the world with flight attendants as my family and hotels as my home. I want to be bound to someone, to some place. It doesn’t feel like a trap, but a release from searching for something more. I’ve only been waiting my whole life.”

  The earnest tone of her voice breezed over his skin, almost making him believe her words, but the memories of how his father had walked away and his mother had disappeared into herself surfaced as an ugly reminder. He’d been bound to a family, to a place, and it had brought him and his brothers pain. The kind that never really went away, because the cause of it would never change.

  “I have two brothers. Niccolo and Marco. We learned early on that family didn’t guarantee you’d always have someone to count on. Our father left us when we were young.”

  She reached for his hand, and he let her caress his knuckles. “He didn’t disappear where we never saw him again, but in a way I wish he had. At
least then I could convince myself that he couldn’t come back. Our dad checked in once in a while in a way that proved he didn’t want to come back. Staying in one place didn’t suit him. And I’m just like him.” It was good for her to know the truth, to believe it. She could have her roots, but his past demanded he break free.

  Her eyes wavered, but then lit up with excitement.

  He followed her gaze to the Trevi Fountain. She dropped his hand and slipped off a shoe. He reached out for her. “What’re you doing?”

  Kicking off the other shoe, she sent him a decidedly mischievous smirk. “When in Rome…” She stepped over the edge and into the water.

  “Chase, you can’t. You’ll get fined, or worse, arrested.”

  She walked backward toward the falling water, a strange light in her eyes. What was she about?

  He quickly removed his shoes and socks, then stepped into the water himself. “This is a mistake.”

  “Then it’s the best kind.” She looked up at him as he met her under the water’s spray. “I feel like Anita Ekberg in La Dolce Vita.” She ran her hand through her short hair. “But without the long blond locks.”

  He held her gaze. Something was going on, but he had to get her out of the fountain before they were arrested. But then he glanced at her mouth. Her lower lip glistened with water drops, and her eyelashes framed her dark eyes in a ray of wet little spikes. She called to him even though her mouth never moved.

  Lowering his head, he brushed his lips against hers, and felt the caress through his whole body. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Sliding his tongue against her lower lip, he gently nibbled, then melded his mouth to hers in such a way that he couldn’t breathe but swore she was all the breath he’d need.

  A sharp whistle made them both jump. “Arresto!”

  Cazzo. Drago wrenched his head up to see two uniformed police heading toward the fountain. He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled her from the water.

  “Wait, what’re you doing?”