CHAPTER 10
BIANCA
The alarm on my phone beeped, and I subconsciously reached behind me to hit snooze. Last night I slept better than I had in ages, and it had to be thanks to the amazing thread count on these sheets. I moaned, then pulled the comforter further around my shoulder, feeling a tug of resistance.
My fuzzy mind couldn’t quite figure out why my blanket wouldn’t move, so I pulled again, still struggling to get the thick material up to my shoulders. My mind slowly cleared, and it was then I realized that my leg was intertwined with a hard thigh, and my pillow was not a pillow at all. My eyes blinked open, and I tried not to panic, but then I saw the hard line of Royal’s jaw, peppered with a thick layer of hair, and I nearly freaked out.
I pulled back slowly, placing efficient space between us. What the hell happened that I was snuggling up to this monster last night? I was not a snuggler. In fact, I liked my space when I slept, even after sex sleepovers. Nope, this girl needed her unobstructed sleep zone. So why was I suddenly climbing over the invisible center divider to use my brand spanking new husband as a pillow?
Without even opening his eyes, he said, “Stop staring at me.”
“I wasn’t staring.” His lips tilted up.
“No? I just assumed after your stealth pullback that you were watching me, wondering what the fuck happened?”
I cringed. So, he wasn’t asleep. “I guess I need to practice my stealth.”
“Majorly.” He rolled over, his eyes still closed, and pinned me with the weight of his arm. “The bunny has to go, sweetheart.”
I lifted his arm off my waist and dropped it back on his side of the bed, while his whole body shook with laughter. “Absolutely not. I would ditch my husband before I even thought of getting rid of Peter.”
“I bet you would. But, Amore, he is so noisy. I doubt you even realize it since you slept like the dead.” His words were muffled as he half spoke into the pillow. Honestly, morning Royal was sort of . . . hot. I hated myself instantly for thinking that, but it was true. His hair was slightly tousled, his voice rough, and if I leaned in close enough, I could still smell a hint of sandalwood and spice that clung to his skin.
He cleared his throat, and I moved my gaze to his smirking face and away from the well-muscled back. “I don’t sleep like the dead.”
He adjusted his head to rest on his arms. “Not even a single movement when I came home, showered, and climbed into bed. Wait . . .” he paused. “Correction, there was a movement. When you gravitated to me, then clung to me like a helpless, little spider monkey.”
I refused to let him see the embarrassment that I felt. “I thought you were Peter.”
Even I knew there was no mistaking the two, but I told the lie, and I was standing behind it. His brows drew together as he tried to figure out how the two of them could possibly be mistaken for each other. “That makes so much more sense.”
My alarm blared again, and this time I turned it off. As much as I didn’t want to leave this bed . . . his bed, I had to. I scooted to the edge, and pushed back the comforter, forcing myself out of the comfortable cocoon of blankets. I felt his eyes on me, watching intensely as I stood, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was affecting me.
And he did affect me, big time. I felt the goose flesh rise everywhere his eyes touched, but if he asked, I would blame it on the chill in the air. “What time do you have to be at work?”
His voice startled me from my thoughts, and I turned around to see him so close he was practically touching me. “Um, seven.”
There was a delay in his response, as if his mind was refusing to process any information. “Seven?”
“We open early on Tuesday.” He nodded, and to distract myself from how much I wanted my husband and how much I hated that fact, I added, “So, how’s your tooth?”
His eyes narrowed, but his face didn’t change. “Good as new. My dentist was awful, though.”
“You think so?” I’d made my way into the bathroom with him right on my heels. “Might want to let Yelp know, so my five-star rating can reflect with accuracy.” I jumped up onto the counter and crossed my arms, determined to stare him down.
“I can’t. It would be a conflict of interest, and some people may think my opinions weren’t accurate.” He stepped closer, his alluring scent enveloped me.
“What part was unpleasant, exactly? The part where you repeatedly acted like a three-year-old or the painless tooth pulling?”
“Neither. It was the condescending attitude of the dentist herself.” He leaned forward, his body so close that I had to spread my thighs wider to accommodate his presence.
My brain fogged over, my thoughts clouded. Ugh, why did he have to smell so good? And why couldn’t he be ugly? Maybe a little easier to reject instead of my body’s involuntary response every time he got close. “Yeah?”
Shit. It sounded breathless even to my own ears. Royal leaned down, his lips so close to mine, but just barely hovering out of reach. He licked his lower lip, and I almost died inside, the quiver that shot through my lower body a complete betrayal of my mind. “Yeah.”
I tilted my head closer because one kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. I could go back to hating him the moment I was out the door, and I would, too. “Maybe it was you who was pompous.”
He was so close, I could taste him. “Definitely wasn’t me.”
I heard a clink behind me as he pulled his body away from mine. He held up a toothbrush he got from behind my back and shook it in the air before reaching to my other side to grab the toothpaste. That son of a bitch. He knew he was leading me on, making me think he was going to kiss me; the whole time he was just reaching for his damn toothbrush.
I made a growling sound in my throat before hopping off the counter and grabbing a fluffy white towel. “I’m going to shower,” I announced, not like he cared, but fuck, I couldn’t let the last thing I said to him be laced with arousal. The fucker chuckled around a mouth full of foam and a toothbrush. “And you’re brushing your teeth wrong.”
Ha. Take that. Bianca 1. Royal 0.
**
When I came out of the shower, he was already gone from the bedroom. I breathed a thankful breath, then wore my towel all the way to the giant walk-in closet. The closet was something straight out of a dream, and I’d admit, when I first saw it, I squealed a bit. Then guilt washed over me because I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. Not when I would rather be at my own, slightly outdated, in need of repair, house. My fingers ran over the solid wood built-in drawers, savoring the smooth finish as I walked past in search of my bags.
“You can take your clothing out of your bag, Amore mio.” I jumped at his voice, nearly dropping my towel in the process.
I turned, glaring at him. “I thought you left.”
He made a dramatic show of checking his wristwatch. “Well, my wife said she had to be to work by seven, so I’m waiting.”
I clung the towel tighter, feeling slightly exposed and at a disadvantage next to him in a full suit. “I can drive myself.”
“Normally, I would say go for it. But as I was leaving the house this morning, I noticed my wife was driving on dangerously threadbare tires. My guys are on it, but the car won’t be returned to you for a few hours.” He sipped his coffee, looking smugly over his cup.
“I appreciate you fixing my tires, but you should have asked first.” Who was I kidding? I wouldn’t change those things until they finally blew.
He rolled his eyes. “Bianca, may I replace the tires on your car so you won’t die in a tragic collision on the freeway when your tire blows on the way to work? I would like to save a few extra dollars and only buy tires instead of the whole funeral package.”
I blinked a few times, never really having put much thought into it. “You would pay for my funeral?”
“You’re my wife.” He said it like the words made simple logic easy to interpret.
“But you don’t know me.”
He sipp
ed his coffee again, making it apparent that conversations in his closet with half-naked women were a common occurrence. “I will.”
“What does that even mean?” I casually reached into my bag, searching for something to put on, not wanting him to know that he was five feet away and affecting me.
“Give it a week, maybe two. But I will know you, Bianca. Everything about you. Everything.”
I had to fight not to snort at that. He would only know what I let him be privy to, nothing less, nothing more. “I doubt that.”
“Give me until lunch, and I’ll tell you the information you would no doubt be shocked by.” He sounded so sure of himself, I couldn’t help but bait him.
“Is this a bet?” I took a step closer.
He took a step forward, matching my own. “Think carefully, Amore. Do you want this to be a bet?”
I doubted he would get anything on me that didn’t fall under the typical background check. “I think I do.”
“Think, Mrs. Russo? Are you positive?” His eyes glistened with excitement like he actually thought he would prove me wrong.
“Oh, Mr. Russo, I’m positive you won’t find anything on me that’s not common knowledge.” I held out my hand, ready to shake. He closed the distance, and right before his hand touched mine, I said, “Oh, and it’s Ms. Moretti. If I win, you will never call me Mrs. Russo again. Deal?”
He laughed. “But, it does have a sexy ring to it.”
“I would prefer you would not associate anything about me with anything of a sexual nature.” Even as the words came out, I knew that was a lie. I strangely wanted this man to desire me as much as I equally wished he wouldn’t.
His eyes traveled over my body as I still hugged the towel. “It’s a little too late for that. If I win, you will accompany me to a business meeting this weekend.”
His eyes locked on to mine, his hand hung in the air, waiting for me to accept it. I grabbed his hand, shaking it rougher than necessary. “Fine. You have yourself a deal, Russo.”
CHAPTER 11
ROYAL
It was just after eleven when I hung up the phone with Mrs. Thompson. Mrs. Thompson had been teaching third grade for twenty-seven years. She’s a mother of three, a skier, and an excellent home cook.
She was also Bianca’s former teacher.
Apparently, Bianca was a bright student with a bit of an attitude problem. Ha, tell me something I didn’t know. She was always top of her class and thrived on praise. Noted. Her favorite food was Mexican, she made a killer tiramisu, and her favorite color was black. Possibly like her mean little soul? Which I still found alluring. She wore a size eight shoe, got arrested when she was fourteen for shoplifting, and looked like her mother, who ran off when she was a baby.
I picked up my phone and sent out a text message, You lost your virginity at prom? Really? Sort of cliché, Amore.
My phone rang a minute later, Bianca’s name flashing on the screen. I picked it up, clicking accept before placing her on speakerphone. “Good afternoon, Amore.”
“Everyone loses their virginity on prom night. That isn’t any new information.” Her voice held a hint of panic.
“I didn’t,” I informed her.
“No?” I could tell she was dying to ask, but I wouldn’t give up the information until she asked.
“Curious?” I baited.
“Maybe.” There was a pause and some rustling, before she whispered, “Okay, fine. Tell me, Royal. How did you lose your virginity?”
“Whispering, Mrs. Russo? Are you hiding in a closet afraid someone might hear you talk about sex?” I knew she couldn’t see the tilt of my lips at this conversation, but it was plastered in place anyway.
“No.” There was another pause. “Fine. Yes. Okay? Happy? I’m hiding in the supply storage room.”
“Aww, I do believe you care.”
I’m pretty sure she growled. “I’m going to hang up.”
Such a fibber, my wife, was. “No, you won’t.”
“What makes you so sure?” Her voice took on some aggression.
“If you hang up . . .” I tapped my fingers on my desk, counting a few beats to give my statement a dramatic feel, “if you hang up you will never know about the awkward, embarrassing, fumbling first-time sex of yours truly.”
I heard the door open through the phone, and she mumbled something about being out in just a second. She came back on the line. “You wouldn’t tell me all the details anyway.”
“I’ll tell you all the details if you agree to lunch this week with me.” It was sort of a manipulative move, but I wasn’t above manipulation to get what I wanted.
She did a humorless laugh. “What makes you think I would make another deal with you when you haven’t even won the first deal yet?”
I pulled the paper of information in front of me. “But I have.”
“Knowing I lost my virginity on prom night hardly means you won,” she whispered into the phone, her voice sounding muffled.
“No,” I agreed, “But, I did just have a talk with Mrs. Thompson . . .”
“My third-grade teacher?” she cut in.
“Yeah. She’s such an amazing woman. Did you know she completed a fourth marathon recently? At her age? I can only hope I’m in as good of shape.” I offered a bit of information, trying not to gloat at just how much I knew.
“I. Did. Not. Know.” she ground out.
“She said you were quite a spirited child. She remembered you well. You know what, I believe her, you do seem to have . . . spirit.” I tapped my pen on my desk. “Also, I have to ask . . . what exactly did you shoplift?”
Her pitch rose. “That was dropped off my record and private!”
“Yet, I managed to uncover it,” I reminded her. “So?”
“Fine. You win, I’ll go to the business meeting this weekend,” Bianca growled.
“And?” I prompted.
“Lunch this week . . . if you tell me.”
I tsked. “My, my . . . my little wife sure is interested in my sex life.”
Her frustration was apparent in her tone when she replied. “You know what, I changed my mind. I don’t give a fuck about your sex life. I have to go, I have patients to see. I’m pretty sure the gentleman in room seven will be taking his dental work like a champ.”
“He’s probably too busy waiting for your coat to open up to even realize you’re pulling teeth,” I said dryly. Though actually thinking of some overweight bastard looking down my gorgeous wife’s shirt made my blood boil. I imagined she’s used to the ogling, the pick-up lines, the not so sly attempts to check out her ass or her well-formed calves. God, do her legs good looked in heels.
“Goodbye, Royal,” she said flatly.
She sounded like she was actually going to hang up, and I was quite ready. “I was fourteen.”
“And?”
“I was fourteen when I lost my virginity. It was quite literally the most embarrassing, horrific moment of my life.”
She was silent for a few beats before prompting. “Go on.”
“I love how suddenly, you’re very interested in me,” I commented. “I will admit, I was a bit of a dweeb.”
“Do people even use that word anymore?” I heard the amusement in her voice, and it was fucking satisfying.
“For the sake of my story and the time era, I’m using dweeb. May I continue?” She made a sound in her throat, signaling me to proceed, so I did. “I was a dweeb. I had friends, don’t get me wrong, but we weren’t exactly the cool kids to hang with. In fact, we were a bunch of awkward, scrawny misfits. One day, this cheerleader, hot as fuck might I add, approached me and she seemed interested. She was a few years older, popular, desired. Do you even realize what kind of ego boost that was?”
I let my question hang in the air, not actually expecting an answer. “I’ll skip all the boring stuff since I know you’re on a time crunch. Fast-forward two weeks, we were in the back of her brother’s van she borrowed for the night. This wasn’t her first time, but
me . . . I only had movies to go off of. So, I’m there, one hand under the cup of her bra, the other trying to work the snap, and I’m literally seconds from coming just from this contact. I thought I was doing well until she finally stopped me. She stood up straight, removed her shirt and bra, before informing me that I removed her necklace instead of her bra.”
A rich sound filed through the phone. “Hey, this is serious. Stop laughing. So now I have massive breasts in my face—I should point out that I like the size of yours just fine, I don’t discriminate. So anyway, massive boobs in my face and at this point I’m so excited, I literally can’t sit still. Then she stands . . . well more like hunches because she’s tall. Actually, taller than I was at the time.”
“You’re getting distracted, Russo. I’m on a time restraint here,” Bianca reminded me.
“Sorry, you’re right. So, she stands and removes her shorts, her bare pussy literally right at eye level, and my cock was weeping at this point. I lean in, thinking . . . well, it’s there. I might as well get her as worked up as I am. Here is where things really get iffy for me. I learned in, and I motorboated her.”
At this point, Bianca was hysterical, and I’m pretty sure she couldn’t breathe. “Stop, my story isn’t over with. Natasha—that was her name—she grabbed my hair and pulled me back, literally asking me what I was doing. I thought it was obvious. She rolled her eyes at me, then instructed me to put it in as she laid back on the seat. Luckily, she was on birth control because the randy fourteen-year-old in me was not even thinking about protection as I climbed on top of her. She spread her legs, and I thought, fuck ya. I’m a fucking king. I found out all too quickly that maybe being king needed some work when I thrust twice and spilled everywhere as I awkwardly slipped out of her.”
“Oh my god.” Bianca made a choking noise. “You lie.”
“Amore, why would I lie? Turns out . . . the whole thing was a bet. One of her friends took photos through the back window, and they were plastered all over the school campus the next morning.”
Resisting Royal (The Repayment Series) Page 5