His Final Seduction

by Lori Wilde

  The ardor in his eyes flattened her. This man wanted her. The allure was compelling. She held his gaze but did not smile when he smiled, but lifted her chin and canted her head. She studied him with an indolent look, trying to convey that she was only mildly intrigued.

  He bowed.

  She nodded.

  Whispered voices came from behind them, and that’s when she realized his students were watching his every move. It unsettled her more than she expected. For one thing, Jorgie had completely forgotten she was supposed to be a plant. For another thing, she’d never been one to court the spotlight.

  “May I have this ride?” he asked, and extended his hand as the next gondola in line bobbed up to the loading platform.

  She panicked for a second, not knowing what to do. If she refused then she wouldn’t get to ride with him. If she agreed it would look as if Casanova’s seduction techniques were working.

  Jorgie sniffed delicately. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “Until a better opportunity comes along.”

  Behind them, a guy guffawed.

  Quint looked a bit befuddled by her reply, but he recovered quickly. “Thank you for agreeing to accompany me.”

  She didn’t answer, nor did she take his hand as she climbed into the boat. Instead, she held her palm out to the gondolier, who helped her inside.

  Quint seated himself beside her. He smelled delicious. She darted her tongue out to lick her lips, but stopped herself.

  The gondolier stuck his oar in the water and they were off, skimming gracefully across the water. The moon climbed the sky. The night breeze blew cool for midsummer. Quint’s knee was so close to hers. Jorgie could hardly believe she was in Venice, living her dream of embarking on a wild sexual fling.

  They glided underneath a bridge. People along the walkway overhead stared down at them. “Yo, Casanova,” someone called down. “You gonna kiss her or what?”

  “One of your students?” Jorgie asked drily.

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “Sorry about that.”

  “You may kiss me if you wish,” she said, making sure she kept control of the situation. She leaned in close, and then paused for a moment. “For the sake of your reputation.”

  He lowered his eyelids. “Nah, I think I’ll wait.”

  That flummoxed her a bit. He’d looked so eager, she’d thought…

  Cool it. He’s not Casanova. He’s just putting on a show for his students. Remember he asked you to be the plant because you were someone he could never fall in love with.

  That thought took all the wind from her sails. She turned her head and was alarmed to find a salty lump in her throat.

  The gondolier picked up singing “Bella Notte” in a deep-throated Italian voice. In spite of her best intentions to keep tight control on her emotions, Jorgie felt herself swept away by the romance of Venice.

  Quint slipped an arm around her. Jorgie shot him a quelling glare even as her breathing sped up. “What?” he asked. “Too soon?”

  The line she toed was a fine one. She wanted to encourage him, but only slightly. Give him hope, but not much promise. She gave a bored sigh and looked away, much like Lady Evangeline must have done with the real Casanova, but inside Jorgie’s heart pounded a twitchy tempo.

  The gondolier switched to “Clair de Lune” as they entered the Grand Canal thronged with gondolas. The air tasted of enchantment, impossibly sweet, and Quint’s masculine scent dizzied her senses.

  “This feels so magical,” she whispered, forgetting to be Lady Evangeline for a second. She was all Jorgie, the girl next door who’d spent a chunk of her girlhood fantasizing about the alluring devil-may-care man beside her. She’d imagined scenarios just like this one many times. To have him here seemed so surreal, as if she’d somehow managed to step into her own daydream.

  But she wasn’t really “here with him” here with him. She was playing a part, helping him with his class. This wasn’t about a romantic evening with a man she was quickly discovering she still had a crush on.

  All the more reason to act like Lady Evangeline and keep him on his toes.

  “Live the magic,” Quint murmured.

  She hadn’t noticed he’d been inching his body closer, but now she saw his thigh pressed against hers and his hand had slipped from her shoulders to her waist, and that he was reaching up with his other hand to gently stroke her cheek before sliding it down to tilt her chin upward.

  He gazed into her eyes. He was going to kiss her. She should move. Lady Evangeline would have moved. But Jorgie was gobsmacked. By the singing gondolier, by the Grand Canal, by the full moon rising into the sky, by the dark water and the summer breeze and Quint, Quint, Quint.

  Slowly, she closed her eyes, puckered her lips and waited. And when his mouth touched hers, she understood the true appeal of Casanova.

  He made a woman feel cherished and adored.

  7

  Prime a woman right and she’ll gush for you

  —Make Love Like Casanova

  QUINT’S KISS wove a spell over her as magical as the Venetian night—intoxicating, potent, mind-bending.

  He tugged her tightly against his chest and she did not resist. Oh, who was she kidding? She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right back. Their mouths locked, oblivious to the gondolier chuckling above them.Jorgie parted her teeth, letting him slide his tongue inside. The flavor of him, all tingling and pepperminty, filled her mouth and made her long to throw decorum to the wind and pull him down on top of her in the bottom of the boat. She’d never had such wild impulses before. What was it about him that sparked her biological bacchanal that no other man had ever sparked? Quint embodied the sweetest of fantasies, and she luxuriated in it, tasting it juicy as a ripe peach.

  The water lapped softly against the side of the gondola like the swift swoosh of a fevered heartbeat. The ruffling breeze rippled over her bare skin and she felt the hush of twilight settle into her soul.

  She took a deep breath, smelled the Grand Canal and Quint—all fresh air and clean skin and the mossy trace of dark water.

  He kissed as the most accomplished of lovers, filled with passion and audacity and excitement. His kiss transfused those qualities into her.

  What was this magic he had about him? It wasn’t that he used his tongue in any special way, although the tickle of it against the roof of her mouth set her toes to tingling. The pressure of his lips was firm, but not too hard, nothing earth-shattering, when you got down to it. How come it felt so exceptional?

  The strum of his tongue was gentle and unhurried. Exploring, but not exceeding boundaries the way some men did. He wasn’t intent on doing a tonsillectomy. He just teased and cajoled, tempting with a featherlight touch that intrigued. And he seemed to be truly enjoying the way she melted into him, her responsiveness fueling his own. He acted as if he could kiss her all day and never come up for air.

  His arms tightened around her, his chest felt hard against her soft breasts. Blood surged through her veins, pounded against her eardrums in the rhythm of a timeless mating ritual. Arousal was a speeding bullet shooting through her faster than anything she’d ever experienced. Instantly, she was hot and horny and hungering for him in a way she’d never hungered for another. For sure she’d never felt this sharp, physical urgency with Brian.

  Or anyone else, for that matter.

  She’d had no idea she could feel like this. So wild and wanton and out of control. Where had it come from, this stark, primal need?

  Full-throttle lust caused her to throb and ache in every molecule of her body until she was pulsing with it—her collarbone, her throat, her shins. Her skin burned, hot and jittery. Her breasts swelled heavy and sensitive against the scratchy lace of her bra and she flushed hot all over. Not just her skin now, but she was sizzling on a cellular level—fevered, delirious, burning up with need.

  He slipped a warm hand up underneath her shirt, splayed it over her belly, all the while still kissing her. Jorgie swallowed back a moan of pleasure.<
br />
  You can’t give in this easily. If you want to win him, then you have to make him work for it. The voice in her head dished out advice à la Lady Evangeline.

  She leaned back, broke the kiss, and encircled his wrist with her fingers, stopping his hand from edging higher. Her mouth, wet from his kiss, cooled in the night breeze, breaking her out of the magical spell, snapping her back to reality.

  “Wait,” she said, shocked that her voice sounded so pleading, as if she were actually begging him to continue.

  His fingers drummed lightly against her stomach, playing her like a keyboard, distracting her.

  She shook her head. “Stop.”

  His hand stilled but he did not remove it from underneath her shirt. “Is that really what you want?” he asked in a dozy, dreamy voice as if he’d been just as caught up in the fantasy as she had.

  “Please,” she whimpered, and hated herself for begging, “move your hand.”

  Slowly, he extracted his hand, drawing up his fingers, gliding away from her skin. Part of her ached to just say “what the hell” and invite him up to her room when they got back to the villa, but part of her knew if she gave in to him now she wouldn’t be any different from all the other women he’d known, eager and ready to be bedded.

  The gondolier had stopped singing and she noticed for the first time they’d left the Grand Canal and were headed back to the villa. She heard water lapping against the boat with each stroke of the oar.

  “What’s going on here, Quint?”

  The moonlight bathed his face in a blue-white glow. Amusement flashed in his eyes. “We’re enjoying a magical evening.”

  “There’s only one thing wrong with magic,” she said.

  He narrowed his gaze. “What’s that?”

  “It’s not real.”

  “It’s real for now.”

  She let out her breath and it was only then she realized she’d been holding it. “Is this about your class? About your Casanova techniques, or is this about Quint and Jorgie?”

  He looked her in the eye. “It’s about both, I guess.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Casanova is part of the fantasy. So is Venice.”

  “That’s the part that scares me,” she said. “I’m a realist at heart. I don’t know if I can ride on the coattails of whim and let the winds take me where they may. I don’t know if I can be your plant without my emotions getting involved.”

  He shrugged and she felt it inside of her, as if she were shrugging, too. How was that possible? “You have your whole life to be steeped in reality, Jorgie. Can’t you just take this vacation as it comes? That’s what Eros is all about, you know. I thought that was why you came here.”

  In all honesty, she didn’t really know why she was here. Mostly, it was because Avery had bought her a ticket and put her on the plane.

  “I guess I’m wondering what happens when I get home.”

  “You look back on this trip with fond memories.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Why does it need to be more?” He leaned away from her, the skittish movement of a carefree man who was being asked to examine his values. “Are you looking for commitment? I thought you recently got out of a relationship.”

  Jorgie sighed. “I’m not looking for happily ever after. I’m not even sure if I’m looking for anything at all. Still, I don’t take romantic liaisons lightly.”

  He laughed then, cocked an eyebrow. “‘Romantic liaisons?’”

  “Okay, so I spent too much time in the eighteenth century this morning.” She smiled.

  He leaned in again, closing the gap he’d created, and grinned at her, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “It’s okay, Jorgie. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If the fantasy isn’t fun, then don’t go there.”

  But it was fun. That was the problem. She didn’t know how to have fun. She didn’t know how to relax and let go. She didn’t know how to be casual when it came to sex. “Do you still want me to be your plant?”

  “Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  She bit her bottom lip. “I do want to help you.”

  “I’d appreciate it, but again, I don’t want you to do something you’re not excited about.”

  “I’m excited. Though it’s all getting confused in my head. What’s real? What’s fantasy? What’s a game? What’s the truth?”

  In all honesty, she wanted this. Wanted him. But she feared a broken heart. She was still ragged after Brian’s betrayal, even though she was quickly figuring out she hadn’t truly been in love with him. How did you know what love really was? And was it anything more than just a chemical reaction? Was romantic love itself the fantasy? One that Casanova had spent his life chasing? And how closely related was Quint to that famous lover on an emotional level?

  She considered telling him she’d changed her mind, that she would love to come up to his room and spend the night having hot, sweaty sex with no consequences or repercussions or expectations. But she thought of Lady Evangeline and how she’d kept Casanova on a string by never fully giving in to him. The thought made her smile. How wicked it was to tease.

  The gondola gave a bump against the landing, signaling that they’d arrived at the Eros villa. Quint got out first, and then reached down a hand to help her disembark. She took his hand because she needed his guidance, but steeled herself against the onslaught of desire his touch created.

  “Well,” she said, once she was on the cobblestone pathway beside him.

  “Well,” he echoed.

  The moment was awkward. She couldn’t think of anything to say that would smooth it over. The evening was finished. This was good-night.

  And yet, she longed to linger.

  In fact, she was hoping for another kiss.

  “Would you care for a nightcap in the resort’s bar?” he asked hopefully.

  “I don’t think that would be such a—”

  “Please, say yes,” he interrupted. “My students are watching and they’re expecting some serious Casanova moves.”

  Jorgie glanced over to see a flock of young men gathered on the bridge near the entrance to the resort. They were watching Quint with knowing grins. She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ll owe you big time,” he said.

  “All right,” she conceded. “But only one drink and then I’m going to bed.”

  He grinned.

  “Alone,” she added with emphasis.

  AFTER HER NIGHTCAP with Quint, where she flirted and batted her eyes for the benefit of his students who’d followed them into the bar, she allowed him to walk her to her room.

  They stood in the hallway gazing into each other’s eyes. She wanted to say “ah, the heck with it” and invite him inside, but she knew she couldn’t. Not if she didn’t want to be just another one of Quint Mason’s conquests.She said good-night, and when he leaned in for a kiss, she gathered up all the control she had in her, turned her back on him and slid her key card through the contraption on the door. It flashed green. She opened the door and turned back to him, blocking the entrance with her body, and held out her hand. “Well, good night.”

  “A handshake?” Quint chuckled.

  “A handshake,” she confirmed.

  “You’re killing me here, Jorgie.”

  “We had an agreement. One nightcap and I was going to bed alone.” Then she gave him a sly smile and backed inside. Just as she shut the door, she heard a ding in the hallway as the elevator settled onto her floor.

  “Hey, Casanova,” she heard a young man call out. “Looks like you struck out.”

  She stopped the door before it closed completely, and cocked her head, listening to the exchange.

  “I didn’t strike out, lads,” Quint said as he headed down the corridor in their direction. “This is merely stage one in a grand seduction. It’s called priming the pump. Move too fast and you’ll come up dry. But prime a woman right and she’ll gush for you.”

  A snap of anger crackled th
rough her and she slammed the door. Loudly. Of all the arrogant, chauvinistic things to say…

  Calm down, he was only saying it for his students.

  This whole role-playing thing was making her feel jerked around by her emotions. Did she want to go to bed with him or not? Did she want to learn how to have great sex?

  She plunked down on the bed and kicked off her shoes. She couldn’t sort this out by herself. She needed someone to talk to. Mind swirling, she dug her cell phone from her purse and called Avery.

  “Yo.” Avery answered on the second ring. “S’up?”

  “Is this a good time?”

  “You mean am I having wild monkey sex with a hunky guy, then no. I can talk.”

  “But you said one guy had caught your eye?”

  “Oh, one caught it, all right,” Avery said. “But he seems immune. I’m in the bungalow next to his, so I did a little striptease with the blinds open and—”

  “Avery! You did not.”

  “I did, but don’t worry, dear Prudence, it didn’t work. He saw me, I know he did, but the next day he acted like nothing had happened. He must be gay,” she mused.

  “Or he’s not the type of guy who takes advantage of horny women on vacation.”

  “Excuse me, but all guys are that type of guy.”

  “You can’t paint everyone with the same brush. Some people just don’t possess the same sexual drive you do.”

  “Poor them,” Avery said. “So what’s going on with you? Did you get a chance to talk to Quint?”

  “Honestly, I wish you were here. I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.” Jorgie paced the floor and unbuttoned her blouse, the cell phone cradled between her chin and her shoulder.

  “Hmm, I’m sensing you had the opportunity to take him to bed and you turned him down.”