Educating Gina

by Debbi Rawlins

  “Look, I’ll just say good night out here.” He disengaged her arm. “Call me tomorrow after you wake up.”

  She tugged at his sleeve and lowered her voice to a persuasive pitch. “But it is still early.”

  “Gina, it’s after one.”

  “That is not late.”

  “You said yourself your uncle is home.”

  “We can go to the roof. There is a patio there that is very private and—”

  “Oh, no.” He freed himself again. “No roof. Where’s your key?”

  “Michael.” Her lips formed the pout. “You still have to explain what a blow job is.”

  He muttered a curse. He glanced over his shoulder even though he knew the corridor was empty. “Don’t say that word anymore, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Give me your key and I’ll explain.”

  She snapped open her tiny black bag and then looked up into his eyes. “I have something to tell you. Please do not be angry.”

  Dread slithered up his spine. “What?”

  “I lied about my curfew.”

  “What time?”

  She wrinkled her nose the way she always did when she didn’t understand.

  “What time did he tell you to be home?”

  Pink tinged her cheeks and she looked down at her hands. “Midnight.”

  “Great.” He glanced at his watch, even though he knew it was almost one-thirty. “Just great.”

  “He does not have to know.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Sometimes he does not get home until two. And then he goes straight to bed and snores like a pig in one minute.”

  “And if he’s sitting in the living room when we walk in?” Mike had one of those bad feelings again. “What then?”

  “Please do not tell him I lied.” Her pleading eyes sucker-punched him. “He will send me back home.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  She nodded with conviction.

  What if he did send her back? The thought shook Mike. “He won’t be happy with me, either.”

  “If he is awake, I will confess. But I am certain I can sneak in.”

  “What if he’s already looked in your room and seen your empty bed?”

  “I leave it messy when I go out. With lots of pillows under the covers so it looks like I am there.”

  “You learned that in Catholic school?”

  “Si.” She nodded so solemnly that he couldn’t help but laugh.

  He took the key she’d taken out of her purse and quietly opened the door. The lamp was on in the corner of the living room. That told him nothing. Antonio left it on all night.

  Gina followed him inside and then he quietly closed the door. He thought about leaving, but if Antonio did wake up, Mike didn’t want Gina to face him alone.

  “Go straight to your room,” he whispered. “I’ll leave once you’re inside.”

  “But what about—?”

  “Gina, for God’s sake go. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then headed toward the hall.

  Just then Mike thought he heard someone talking outside the apartment. He listened for a second and heard a slightly slurred, off-key rendition of “O Sole Mio.”

  Shit! “Gina, it’s your uncle.”

  She turned and frowned. “Scusi?”

  Mike heard the key rattling against the knob as if Antonio was having trouble inserting it. “He’s at the door. Go!”

  Her eyes rounded. “What about you?’

  Good question. The coat closet. Where the hell was it?

  “Come.” She waved him frantically toward her.

  He shook his head. “Go!”

  When she started back toward him, he had no choice but to go to her. Grabbing his sleeve, she dragged him down the hall to her room. Talk about déjà vu. Except this time, he’d landed in the lion’s den. Or in this case, the lioness’s den.

  She closed the door behind her and sank against it.

  “I would have been better off hiding out there,” he said in a gruff whisper.

  She promptly shushed him with a warning finger to her lips. They both listened for a moment. Mike thought he heard clanging in the kitchen, but he couldn’t be sure. For all he knew, Antonio hadn’t found the lock yet.

  He knew Robert was worried about his father’s recent fondness for late nights of imbibing with his friends at a cigar club on Seventh. The new routine had started shortly after Antonio’s wife died. Mike thought Robert had been overreacting, since Antonio never missed work. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  All was quiet and Mike started to think Antonio might have already gone to his room when a light knock at the door gave him and Gina a start.

  She put a hand to her throat. When Antonio called softly, she didn’t respond. Mike gave her a nudge and hoped like hell she’d locked the door. He peered at the knob, but they’d left the light off, and with only the soft glow of the night-light, he couldn’t tell.

  She finally answered Antonio in Italian, doing a good job of sounding as if she’d been asleep. Probably learned that in Catholic school, too. In spite of everything, he laughed to himself. Rumors about private-school girls had been abundant in his day. Now he understood. Not that Gina was wild, just resourceful.

  Antonio also responded in Italian, which made Mike nervous. His gaze darted around the room for a place to hide just in case. The closet door was open and the tiny space inside was already packed with Gina’s clothes and suitcases. Maybe under the bed—

  Gina gasped. She said something in rapid Italian to Antonio and made a frantic motion with her hand for Mike to hide. He dropped to the floor, about to crawl under the bed when he realized the area was crammed with storage boxes.

  Gina kicked off her shoes, flung her purse on a chair and pulled back the thick quilt. “Here,” she whispered, pushing the mountain of pillows to the side, half of them tumbling to the floor.

  He dove in without another thought, burrowing between the pillows while she yanked the quilt over him. She called out something else in Italian and then slipped in bed beside him.

  A protest nearly tumbled from his lips, but he heard the doorknob turn and clamped his mouth shut. Gina turned on her side and wriggled her bottom into position against him. He sucked in a breath and curled to follow her form, hoping Antonio didn’t wonder how his niece had managed to gain 170 pounds overnight.

  Only because of the bulky pillows did they have a prayer of not being discovered. And the fact that Antonio sounded a little inebriated.

  He entered the room, using only the night-light and sat at the edge of Gina’s bed. The mattress dipped with his weight and Mike closed his eyes, hoping the whole damn bed didn’t collapse with the three of them on it.

  Gina faked a yawn and muttered something, part in English, part in Italian, about being sleepy. She’d sounded too coherent a moment ago. Antonio had to be half in the bag to fall for that line.

  All the unfamiliar Italian drove Mike nuts, but fortunately Antonio was brief. He apparently gave something to Gina, and then immediately stood after she thanked him. Italian for good-night, Mike recognized, and then he heard the door close.

  He let out a relieved breath, but made no move. He waited for Gina to give him the go-ahead. When she said nothing, he slowly lifted a hand to get her attention. The problem was, he knew where her butt was, but touching her anywhere else could end up being a surprise for both of them.

  Tempting. Very tempting.

  Instead, he just kind of moved. She responded by wriggling her bottom harder against him.

  Oh, boy, this wasn’t going to work.

  “Gina.” She didn’t answer, so he whispered her name a little more loudly.

  “Wait.” She rolled out of bed, and he hoped like hell it was to lock the door.

  He listened, fairly sure it was safe to get up, but not willing to take the risk. A moment later she slipped back into bed, this time facing him.

  His chest tightened. What the hell was
she up to? “Did you lock the door?”

  “Si.”

  Mike rolled onto his back, prepared to slide out the other side.

  “Wait.” She grabbed his wrist. “Not yet.”

  His heart slammed against his chest. “Has he gone to bed?”

  “No, he is in his office.”

  Whispering in the dark was too intimate. It made him nervous. It made him weaken. As did her scent. He closed his eyes and breathed in her feminine muskiness.

  “What for?”

  “I did not ask him.”

  Mike tried not to think about her breasts so close to him he could put his mouth on them. “What did you two talk about?”

  She sighed and her warm breath danced across his cheek. “Poor Zio Antonio. He is sad tonight. He misses his wife.”

  Mike sobered. “He came in to tell you that?”

  “He gave me her locket. Since he has no daughter, he wants me to have it. It is an heirloom, very beautiful and valuable.” She sighed again. “He is a little drunk. Tomorrow I will give it back.”

  “Why? If he wants you to have it…”

  “Someday Robert will have a daughter. The locket should go to her.”

  Mike said nothing. Hard to imagine Robert married, much less a father. But Gina was probably right. He’d have a bunch of kids, just like the rest of the Scarpettis.

  Gina shifted, hogging a pillow Mike had wedged between them. “When he is in such a mood, he may not go to bed for a long time.”

  “What does he do in there?”

  “He looks at old pictures of my aunt. And drinks too much. I will speak to him about his health before I go.”

  “Really?” Mike smiled. Sometimes she sounded so grown-up, and other times she was like a child, curious and adventurous, and asking too many touchy questions.

  “You do not think I should speak with him?”

  “No, it’s just that I’m surprised.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I just…Gina, I’m in your bed.”

  Her soft laugh came out throaty and sexy as hell. “Si, Michael, I know this. I am in my bed, too.”

  “That’s the problem.”

  “I do not see a problem.” Her hand found his cheek and his heart jumped. “Zio Antonio does not know you are here.”

  “Yeah, but—” he moved her hand when her fingers trailed down to his top button “—we still shouldn’t be in bed together.”

  “We are not doing anything wrong.”

  Yet. He swallowed. “The thing is…”

  She scooted closer until her vanilla-scented hair brushed his chin, and then she put a hand on his shoulder so that nothing came between her breasts and his chest. She’d sounded calm enough, but her heart pounded against him like a jackhammer.

  “This is precisely the kind of thing that’s going to get us in trouble.” He reared his head back. “Gina, where’s the pillow?”

  She kissed him.

  Although she missed his lips and got his chin. She tried again, her attempt so awkward it was sweet and endearing, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her and pull her on top of him.

  The darkness didn’t help. In the light he’d see the way her eyes widened with uncertainty and youth, easily reminding him that she didn’t know what she was asking for. But here, in the dark, with her soft curvy body clinging to him like butter on a cracker, temptation held new meaning.

  “Gina, you know we can’t do this.”

  “We kiss all the time.” Her damp lips found his.

  He tried not to give in, but when her tongue tentatively touched the corner of his mouth, he slanted his head for better access and kissed her so deeply she whimpered.

  “Wait, Michael.” Her breath came in sputters.

  He jerked back. What an ass he was to scare her like that.

  She lifted the covers and moved away. It took a few seconds for him to realize she was leaving the bed.

  Panic burned in his chest. He really had frightened her. “Where are you going?”

  She shushed him and then pressed a brief kiss on his cheek. “Nowhere.”

  He reached out to stop her, but she slipped away. She didn’t go far. Standing a foot away from the bed, she lifted the hem of her dress and shimmied until the clingy fabric rode up her body. The ride was slow, the tight dress inching up as she wiggled.

  The small night-light on the baseboard behind her gave off just enough illumination to make him want to cry uncle. When she finally pulled the dress off, his mouth went dry. She reached behind and then slid her bra straps down her shoulders, and the bra was gone. When she twisted around to toss it on the chair, the jut of her breasts in profile about did him in.

  Leaving on her panties, what little there was of them, she crawled back under the covers. She snuggled up to him, thrusting her breasts against his chest. Her nipples poked him through his shirt.

  “Gina, you’re crazy.” He barely got the words out. He sounded weak and pathetic.

  “The door is locked.”

  “That isn’t the point.” God, he wanted to touch her. He flexed his hands at his sides. It would be so easy to glide his palm over the curve of her hip, to cup the weight of her breast, to rub her nipple between his thumb and finger the way he knew she liked it.

  “Michael, take off your shirt,” she said in a small voice.

  “You’re not listening. This is so dangerous.” That she could strip in front of him one minute and still manage to sound shy the next blew his mind. It wasn’t an act, either. She was curious and naive and entirely too comfortable around him. A scary combination.

  She laid a hand on his arm and curled her fingers around his biceps. “We will not do anything we have not already done.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.” He was a jerk. He needed to get out of bed right now. She was right. The door was locked. Antonio couldn’t walk in. Mike could wait this out on the floor.

  She picked up his hand and placed it on her left breast. Weak bastard that he was, he let her do it. Her skin was so warm and silky he wanted to melt into her. “Please take off your shirt.”

  “But Antonio—”

  “He thinks I am sleeping.”

  “You don’t understand, Gina.” His hand started to knead her breast as if it had a mind of its own. “This is really hard for me.”

  Her heart hammered his palm. “Why?”

  Maybe he should be honest and scare the hell out of her. “Because I want to do things to you I shouldn’t. I want to put my mouth where I shouldn’t, and touch you where a man has never touched you. Now do you understand?”

  She kept quiet for a few seconds. “I want you to touch me.”

  He let out a curse that made her jump. She shrank away. “Honey, I’m sorry.” He put an arm around her and urged her back against him. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

  Her soft sigh tickled his chin. “You confuse me.”

  “I know.” What the hell was he doing holding her so close? She had to feel Mount Vesuvius about to erupt down there. That alone should scare her, make her think twice about what could happen if they weren’t smart.

  And playing smart was getting old. Really old.

  “Michael?”

  He briefly closed his eyes. He knew that tone of voice, full of curiosity and trouble. “Yes, Gina.”

  She laughed. “You sound like my papa.”

  “Great.” He wished he felt a little fatherly.

  “Will you take off your shirt now?”

  Mike swallowed. Maybe he should just try to sneak out. If Antonio was drunk enough…

  “Remember at the beach?” she asked, her fingers etching abstract patterns in the open V of his shirt.

  He remembered, all right. A night hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t lain in bed replaying the feel of her breasts on his chest, her nipples thrusting at him.

  “I’ll take my shirt off, but that’s it.” He damn near ripped the polo off. Smooth. Very smooth.

  He dropped it on t
he floor and then bracketed his hands around her waist and pulled her close.

  She made a soft whimpering sound that went straight to his groin. When she pushed harder, her breasts flattening against him, he had a second thought about losing the shirt. It lasted a whole second. Her arms went around him and she rubbed the muscles on his back.

  Cupping his hands over her buttocks, he found her mouth and kissed her hard and thoroughly. Her enthusiastic response sent his body temperature skyrocketing.

  She was a quick learner. Awkward and tentative a week ago, she now boldly used her tongue to tease and persuade. She arrowed her hands down his back and tucked her fingers under the waistband of his jeans.

  He’d have to stop this in a minute, if his heart didn’t explode first.

  To his shame, Gina was the one who cooled things. She softened the kiss, nibbled at the corner of his mouth and then drew back. “Michael?”

  At her coaxing tone, he tensed.

  “Can I touch you?”

  12

  GINA WAITED for Mike to answer. She should not have asked, she realized. The women on Sex and the City would never have asked permission. They took what they wanted. The men always gave in.

  She sighed. Maybe someday she would be that brave. Right now she was scared. Even with Michael, who she knew would not hurt her. But odd things were happening to her body, inside her head, making her bold and needy. Her curiosity grew every day she was with Michael. It was like a scream inside her head that would not quiet.

  “Michael?” She swallowed. “If you do not want me to—”

  He laughed. His voice sounded funny. Kind of hoarse.

  “I want you to touch me. Very much. That’s the problem.”

  The darkness kept her from seeing his face. If she shifted to the left, the glow from the night-light would help, but she fit so perfectly against him, she dared not move and break the spell. “You keep talking about a problem. I am not asking for anything more.”

  “Ah, Gina.” He touched her cheek. “In a way I wish you were more experienced. Then I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.”

  She gasped with sudden realization. “You are not forcing me to do anything.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Of course I wouldn’t force you. But it’s not right for me to encourage you, either.”