by Tamara Lush
He sat up and grinned, tugging her underwear down and tossing them aside when they were free from her legs. “I love it when you tell me what to do.”
She opened her legs wide. Her skin was the color of cream, the hue of the sensual women he had seen on Renaissance frescoes in churches back home. When he scanned her body, his gaze stopped in between her legs.
“Bella, bella, bella,” he whispered, looking at her with adoration and stroking her inner thighs. “You have such a beautiful pussy.”
Skylar gasped. “Oh my God. Did you just say that? No one has ever said that to me.”
“I said it, and I meant it.” Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth into the smooth skin above her bellybutton and she shuddered with pleasure as he gently bit her. As he touched and kissed down her body, a trail of goose bumps sprang up. Her orange blossom scent was both intoxicating and familiar, and Luca realized why he loved the way she smelled. It made him remember springtime at his grandparents’ citrus grove back in Italy when he was a child.
Skylar smelled like home.
He closed his eyes and nuzzled her flesh, awash in pleasures past and present. He slipped a finger inside of her tight wetness then knelt to look at her beautiful body.
“You feel so good, amore mio,” he said, his mind faintly registering that he had started calling her such an intimate name. “So fucking incredible.”
He withdrew his finger and parted her folds, bowing his head to her. She moaned and put her hand on his head. She still seemed a little hesitant when his tongue touched the pink nub of her clitoris.
“Do I taste okay?” she whispered.
Circling her with his tongue, he teased the entrance to her core with his fingertip then licked in the same place. He lifted his head and grinned. “More than okay, mia bella ragazza. Delizioso. Delicious.”
She inhaled loudly and grabbed his hair by the fistful. Bit by bit, he slid his finger deep inside of her, tantalizing her, moving slowly. The tip curved slightly upward as her hips tilted and bucked. She pressed against his mouth, getting wetter by the second.
“Another, Luca. Put another finger inside.”
He pressed his forehead to her thigh and stopped licking her for a few seconds to steel himself, for his need was so great. He wanted something other than his fingers inside of her. And yet, he had promised her that she would be the one to decide when they would finally have sex. He had to keep his promise, even if it killed him.
Never had his cock been so hard and never had he wanted any woman this much. He slipped another finger in, and the erotic connection between them slowed, expanded, exploded. His thumb rubbed her clit slowly, forcefully. He moved his fingers inside of her, his chest tightening, aching, from his need. Watching her flutter her eyes shut, her mouth in a perfect ‘O’ shape, was enough to make him beg her in desperation. Beg for sex, for love, for her soul.
“Is this okay? You’re tight, amore mio.”
“I love it,” she whispered. “And I love it when you call me amore mio.”
He lowered his mouth again to her wetness. With several forceful flicks of his tongue, Sky cried out, loud. It didn’t take much to make her come, and the release was so beautiful to feel and watch. Her flesh contracted and pulsed.
She tugged him up by his hair and put her arms around him. “Never… I’ve never come that way…”
Her voice trailed off, and he felt her heartbeat, or maybe it was his. Pressing his moist lips to her forehead, he fantasized about them staying in bed all day, in their own sex bubble.
“Tu sei un angelo perfetto.”
Skylar opened her eyes and looked at him, dazed.
“Sorry, amore mio. You are a perfect angel.”
After several drowsy moments of hugging, she sighed. “I need to get to work.”
She showered, and Luca put on his shirt and shorts from the previous night’s yoga class. He’d shower when he got home. In her small kitchen, he made a pot of weak American coffee and then sat on the sofa reading In Cold Blood.
Skylar came out wearing a silk, long-sleeved cream-colored blouse and a camel-colored skirt. Her flats matched her skirt and her hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail, her lips pink with gloss.
He didn’t deserve such a sweet, innocent woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Skylar. Skylar. Did you bring a story to critique? Hello? Skylar?”
Skylar snapped to attention.
“Um, Jill. I’m sorry. Let me look. I think I have one at my desk.”
She jumped up and ran back to her cubicle. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, and all because of Luca. Usually she liked the paper’s weekly writing critique session, but today it had slipped her mind. Jill did this every Friday at lunch in an attempt to make them better writers. The reporters would read the first five paragraphs of their stories aloud and critique each other’s work, and then Jill would talk about what worked and what didn’t.
Sky grabbed a recent story and went back to the meeting.
“Sorry,” she whispered, slipping into a chair next to Emily, who kicked her under the table and gave her a side-eye and a grin. Sky ignored her and doodled in her notebook while Jill talked about crafting a good newspaper intro.
After the meeting, Jill asked her to say behind.
Shit.
“Skylar, you did an excellent job with the Rossi story, but lately you’ve been a little distant. Disengaged. Anything wrong?”
Jill’s green eyes were searching, and Skylar shook her head and wondered if her boss would understand if she admitted she was lovesick over a beautiful, secretive Italian man. No, that definitely wasn’t a conversation she should have with her editor. She needed to get her shit together.
“Sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve got some good stories in the works.”
Jill nodded. “Good. I really want to see you succeed, Sky.”
“Thank you,” Skylar said softly. “I’ll step it up.”
She walked back into the newsroom, dread settling in her stomach as she sat at her desk. Luca had worked his way into every fiber of her body, and he’d admitted that their relationship couldn’t go anywhere. She needed to unravel him from her life. Being a journalist was all she had ever wanted, and she’d be damned if she would let a man screw it up for her. She was stronger than that.
Emily leaned against her desk. “Sky, wanna come with us to the Iguana tonight?”
She shook her head. “Luca and I—”
Emily interrupted and held up her hand. “Say no more. I saw you spacing out during the meeting and doodling in your notebook.”
“Oh God, was I that obvious?”
Emily nodded and cackled.
Sky groaned and steeled her resolve. “I’ve gotta get a handle on myself. I think tonight I’m going to tell him that I need some space. I have to focus on my job.”
Emily rolled her eyes and put her hands in a yoga prayer gesture. “Skylar. Balance. No one’s telling you that you can’t have hot sex and a good job.”
“We haven’t had sex.”
“What? Why not?” Emily whispered loudly. “But…you spent the night at his place. I thought you had decided to just be friends with bene—”
Skylar stood and took her friend by the arm. She pulled Emily into a corridor near the bathrooms where no one could overhear their conversation and said, “Shh. I’ve decided to wait.”
“For what? Is he a shitty kisser? Does he have a small dick?”
“No.” Far from it. Skylar grinned.
“Then why wait? God, Skylar, you’re wound so tight. Just fuck him.”
For a moment Skylar thought she was in high school, what with the peer pressure. She rolled her eyes. “I just want to feel good about it. Like I’m doing it for myself, not because he wants it.”
Emily shrugged. “Okay. But don’t be a cock-tease, either.”
“Whatever. He seems fine with teasing.” Luca seemed to love their ever-heightening erotic encounters. “But I’m worried he’ll
be the best sex I’ve ever had. He has to be. We’ve just fooled around, and it’s better than anything I’ve experienced with any other guy.”
Emily stared skeptically. “And you’re worried about…what?”
Skylar didn’t expect her friend to understand, and she sighed. “I know it’ll be amazing with him. I just know it. And then it’ll be emotionally impossible for me to move on when we break up. When he says goodbye. He’s already said he won’t be in Florida for that long, and I’m not sure I can deal with the emotional aftermath of breaking up with my sexual soul-mate.”
“You haven’t fucked him and you’re worried about the emotional aftermath of when you break up? Sexual soul-mate? What kind of crap is that? Maybe he’s awful in bed.”
Skylar could see that Emily was losing patience. “No. He won’t be awful. That’s the thing. I can feel that we’re totally, completely perfect for each other sexually. I’ve never felt like this before. All my past boyfriends have been…just a waste of time. I see that now.”
“Okay, this is getting way too complex. Just fuck him and enjoy it.”
Skylar rolled her eyes and forced a laugh. “Fine. I’ll keep you posted. I’m going for coffee now. Want to come?”
Emily shook her head. “Nope. Gotta make calls.”
Skylar nodded and decided it was best. She needed some space, anyway. Time to think.
As she walked the few blocks to the café, she became lost in thought. For the first time that day her mind wasn’t on Luca. It burned her that Jill thought she was distracted. I mean, she was, but Skylar hated being reprimanded, even a little, for anything. Her inability to take criticism was a shortcoming, she knew. As an only child, she strove to please authority figures. She’d always loved her teachers, got perfect grades and did everything her mother asked of her. Hell, she was still trying to please her mother five years after her death.
So, what was she doing? Living on Palmira, hanging out with Luca, working at a small island newspaper—Skylar didn’t think any of this was what her mother had wanted. A guilty feeling settled over her as she walked into the building and ordered her iced coffee, and her thoughts spiraled out of control. She was a terrible reporter. She would be fired. She’d have to take a waitressing job to pay her student loans, probably have to work at the Sloppy Iguana wearing a tight T-shirt that said “Is Eight Inches Enough?” in reference to the bar’s hot dogs. She’d break the promise she’d made to her dying mom to be successful and change the world with her words.
Probably she’d make more at the Iguana than at the newspaper. That thought depressed her even more.
As she left the cafe, Skylar looked down at her feet, dejected. Then she felt herself bump into something—or someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” she gasped, feeling iced coffee dripping onto her hand. The lid clattered to the ground, and a few ice cubes skittered along the tile near Skylar’s ballet flat. She had indeed run into someone, a birdlike young woman who was wearing white pants that now had a golf ball–sized brown coffee stain on the thigh.
“Crap, I’m sorry. God, I am a klutz,” Skylar said as looked at the woman, whose light brown eyes were narrow slits. “I wasn’t paying attention. It’s totally my fault. I am incredibly sorry.” Somehow her own clothes were unscathed by the liquid.
“Look at my pants,” the woman said in a harsh voice, then added something in a foreign language.
Skylar paused for a beat, tilting her head. The words sounded Italian. And the woman looked classically Mediterranean, with long, dark hair and olive skin. She was gorgeous, actually, with perfectly made-up red lips, high-heeled strappy sandals and long, dark lashes.
The woman stared at Skylar, and their eyes met. The woman’s gaze traveled slowly down Skylar’s body, and Skylar felt a mixture of self-consciousness and fear. Something in the way the woman clenched her jaw and thinned her lips seemed unnaturally incensed. Unhinged-looking, even. Skylar knew that she should have been paying better attention as she walked, but it wasn’t that big of a coffee stain. Nothing that water and soap, or dry cleaning at the most, couldn’t fix.
“You should pay attention to where you’re going,” the woman hissed. The shade of her nails matched her lips perfectly, and Skylar briefly wondered if she herself could ever look that organized, that put-together.
“Really, I’m sorry.” The way this tiny woman stared at her made her feel like she was outdoors during a New England blizzard. Cold. Uncomfortable. In danger.
“Forget it.” The woman shot her a disgusted look and then turned toward the bathroom, tossing her hair.
Embarrassed and creeped-out, Skylar whispered another apology to the woman’s back then fled the café. She shivered, grateful for the blinding Florida sun and the heavy humidity. It took several moments for her body to warm up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Annalisa scrubbed at her white jeans in the bathroom, swearing softly in Italian. Skylar was not only fucking Luca, she wore terrible clothes and was clumsy. How would she punish the little bitch?
Skylar didn’t deserve to be killed, not really. Even Annalisa wasn’t that crazy. Or was she? A smile spread across her face. Maybe the American girl could at least be scared into staying away from Luca.
She scrubbed harder at her thigh, leaving balled-up residue of brown paper towel behind. The stain had nearly disappeared, but an ugly wet patch remained. Annalisa tossed the frayed paper towels on the floor and swept out of the bathroom.
While she waited to get her order, a short, bald man approached. “I wondered if I’d run into you here,” he said in Italian. “It’s the only place where you can get a decent espresso on this island.”
Oh, fuck. Annalisa looked into the man’s dark brown eyes and tried to hide her fear. Gianni Palo. One of her cousin’s men.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, continuing the conversation in Italian.
“Same thing you are.” He ran a thick hand over his bald head. Annalisa had always thought Gianni sexy in a raw way. There was something about his compact, powerful body, the way his upper lip curled into a slight sneer, and, of course, his bald head, that was attractive.
The barista put her espresso on the counter, and Gianni put his hand on Annalisa’s back. “Let’s go chat in my car.”
Annalisa nodded then paused. She needed to bide her time with him. A lot of people chatted with Gianni and many didn’t end the conversation alive. He was known around Naples for being a little stupid and a lot lethal. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind. Was he here to kill her? Kill Luca? Kill them both?
“Wait,” she said. “Can we go to mine? Some bitch just spilled coffee on me and I have some wipes there.”
Gianni shrugged. “Sure.”
Annalisa swallowed hard as he guided her outside, then she pointed to her burgundy Toyota. Trembling as she slid into the driver’s seat, she fired up the car and blasted the air. She pawed around in her purse and found a stain-removal packet.
“Calm down, Annalisa. I’m not here to kill you.”
She pressed her lips together and exhaled. Stared at the steering wheel. “So, you’re here to kill Luca?”
“Not exactly.” Gianni sipped his coffee. “Your cousin sent me here for two reasons. To find you, because you know where Luca is. Or you’d be with him. I’m surprised you’re not in his bed yet.”
So was she. So was she. But since he never left his gated fortress, it was impossible to get inside. She’d even seen security, or some workers, doing something with the gate and fence near the beach, so it was challenging to get him alone, when he definitely wasn’t with his uncle or that horrible girl.
She offered Gianni a smile. “I’m close.”
“I’m sure you are,” the man said softly. His eyes traveled to her cleavage and then to the wet stain on her leg that Skylar Shaw had caused. Annalisa unwrapped a wipe and scrubbed hard at her leg.
“Bruno wants me to put you on a plane home. He doesn’t want you here, interfering. He wa
nts you to get help. I’m supposed to tell you that he’ll pay for whatever you need. Now, don’t get upset. Bruno’s grateful that you led us to Luca.”
Annalisa nodded slowly. “Have you been following me since Miami?”
“Of course. We’ve been tracking your cell calls, too.”
Annalisa’s heart sank. How stupid could she be? “Wait. Is that why he told me that Luca was in Florida? Because he knew I’d find him?”
Gianni laughed. “Bruno knows you’re a better researcher than any of us. And your English is excellent. He figured that finding Luca quickly would be easier for you. My English sucks, and I have no patience. And Bruno doesn’t have access to as many of us as he used to, not when he’s under house arrest.”
Annalisa grimaced. She should have known that her family would interfere. They always did. They never trusted her or her feelings. She swallowed a lump of rage and told herself, Think. Think. How was she going to get out of this?
“What are you going to do with Luca?”
“Bruno wants me to bring him back to Italy to testify, say the book was all a lie.”
Annalisa shifted in her seat and shot Gianni a skeptical glance. “Like the judge will buy that? Bruno will need a lot more than Luca’s testimony to get acquitted. I’ve read that there’s a lot of evidence against him.”
Gianni sighed. “Yeah. Bruno’s working on other witnesses and alibis on the murder charges. He figures he’ll serve time for a few counts of racketeering, but hopefully he’ll get off on some of the murder charges. But the judge in the case was a sailing buddy of Luca’s father. So Luca’s testimony could go a long way. It’s worth a shot.”
“How are you going to get Luca back to Italy? That won’t be easy.”
Gianni curled his fingers and inspected his nails. “I’m going to tell him that I’ll kill his uncle if he doesn’t go. He won’t want his only living family member to die. We were going to use you as collateral, had you started sleeping with him again. Now we won’t need to go through that charade.”
Annalisa exhaled. Her cousin was even more heartless than she was. “And I suppose you want me to tell you where he is.”