But would he lie to get her? While he was waiting for his conscience to make an appearance, she spoke.
“I was really counting on Markos to bring me to the wedding. But since that door has been closed, maybe you can open another one for me.”
Securing an invitation to the wedding was considered a social coup. Luca had fielded hints from women who were eager to attend it as his date.
So she was willing to use her body in exchange for a chance to mingle with royalty.
Luca smiled cynically. With her, everything came with a price. So be it. It made it easier then, what he had to do.
“I’ll take you to the wedding,” he lied.
“You will?” She sounded out of breath, as if she couldn’t believe he actually agreed to her condition.
“Like I told you, I want you, Sabrina Connelly,” he said, part-warning, part-threat, “and I’ll do anything to get you.” He’d shower her with diamonds after, designer clothes, jewels. That ought to take care of her.
And his conscience.
Oh, God. Oh, God. He actually agreed to take her to the wedding. Sabrina didn’t know which rattled her the most–that she was actually going to meet Markos Konstantinos at long last, or that she’d be engaging in a holiday romance with someone who thought she was a gold-digging, experienced, woman of the world.
If she corrected his impression and told him the truth about her pitiful sexual history, he might run in the other direction. This way if she sucked in bed, and she probably would compared to his previous lovers, she’d save face and tell him it was him, not her. “I’m leaving in three days.”
“Perfetto. Just the way I like it. Our time together will be short and sweet.” He grasped her hand across the table and rasped, “Fuck the meal. Let’s get out of here.”
“No.” Sabrina tugged her hand back, but he wouldn’t let go.
Luca’s brows met in the middle. “Did I misunderstand you?” This time he let go of her hand, a slight scowl on his chiseled features.
She shook her head hurriedly. “No. You didn’t misunderstand me.”
“Then what is the matter? Are you playing games?” he bit out, and his jaw clenched. “Because I don’t like the rules changing when we‘re already playing.”
How could she explain it without sounding silly? Luca’s scowl was getting darker by the second. “I just didn’t want to leave without finishing our food,” she said in a very small voice.
Luca’s confused gaze dropped to the table where the virtually untouched dishes lay then lifted back to hers. “I got the impression that you were not very hungry.”
“I’m not.”
He frowned.
“It’s just a thing.” She should just have kept her mouth shut. “Never mind. Let’s go.” She motioned for him to rise, but Luca’s commanding tone arrested her.
“Not without you telling me about this ‘thing.’” His voice brooked no argument. “This ‘thing’ that’s already delayed me from getting what I really want right now.”
Heat flared low in her belly at his words, but he was waiting for an explanation. Sabrina should’ve just let it go, but years of conditioning had ingrained this habit deeply in her psyche.
“I can’t leave the table without finishing my food.” His frown was still in place, so she had to explain further. “My grandmother raised me by herself. When I was growing up, money was scarce. I was a picky eater. Whenever I refused to eat what was on the table, she told me to think about all the other people in the world who had nothing to eat. She never let me leave the table until I had eaten every morsel of food on my plate.” She glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable. “So now I think I’ve got a bit of a guilt complex about it.”
Sabrina had never told anyone about it. Not even Chase. She had been ashamed when she’d realized she had inadvertently added to her grandmother’s burdens by being a picky eater when they were just barely managing to scrape by.
“We can leave now that I’ve told you my ‘thing.’” She was getting uncomfortable with the way Luca was staring at her, as if he was trying to figure her out.
He didn’t say anything, but he beckoned to the waiter. He spoke to the young man in rapid Italian. The waiter dipped his head in assent and quickly disappeared, following whatever order Luca had said.
“Did you ask him for the bill?”
“The bill will be charged to my account,” he said smoothly. “I just asked the waiter to put all the food in a take-out container. We’ll take it back to my room.”
“A doggy bag?” Sabrina said past the sudden lump in her throat. Luca humoring her odd quirk made her inexplicably feel like crying. Oh for Christ’s sake, girl, it’s just leftover food, not a marriage proposal.
He must have glimpsed something on her face because he suddenly looked uncomfortable. Then in a blink of an eye, it was gone and he was back to sophisticated and self-assured Italian billionaire mode once more.
A small smile ghosted on his lips. “It is very convenient, si. We will not need room service to interrupt us. After I’m done with you, strega, it’s a guarantee you’ll be very hungry.”
It was a good thing she was still seated or her legs might have collapsed at the devil’s glint in his eyes. All Sabrina could manage was a very weak nod.
Chapter 5
Luca would sooner be dead than be caught carrying a doggy bag.
But here he was, striding to the elevator which was to take them to his suite, a hand cupping her elbow, the other grasping the handle of the paper bag which contained their leftover meal. He would never hear the end of it from Chiara if word got around. He blasted a scowl at the general direction of a CCTV camera, just in case anyone got it in their head to try and spread word about him lugging around take-out on a date, like it was some fucking domesticated scene. Some of the staff in the hotel had been around when he and his brothers caused havoc with the Konstantinos boys. Luca didn’t have anything against taking out food. What he was against was how it emitted a long term-relationship vibe. Not after Eleni. He wasn’t doing long-term anytime soon.
It was all for the sake of getting inside this woman’s panties. It was not because of the vulnerability in her eyes he had glimpsed when she had been talking about her "thing."
Which should be very easy in theory because she did say earlier at the beach that he was panty-dropping handsome. He would hold her to dropping her underwear for him as soon as they got to his suite.
By the looks of her though, Luca would have quite a time peeling it off her. Her back was ramrod straight. She stared ahead and refused to talk. Luca thought she looked like a queen going to the guillotine instead of one anticipating losing her mind in his bed with pleasure. She was probably just embarrassed about her revelation during lunch. She had looked so torn and pained. Luca wondered if her experience with poverty early on had made her seek security in the arms of men who could provide for her financially. He was just baffled no one had married her yet. She was so heartstoppingly beautiful and sexy. The thought of her being wife to a dirty old man like Theodorou curdled the meager content of his stomach.
Don’t romanticize her, idiot. She’s a gold-digging bitch. Lovelier than most, but still just after the same thing–money, prestige, power. Always on to the next man who could provide those things. What he was after was a good holiday fuck. Something to take the edge off his unusually prolonged sexual abstinence. The doggy bag was just the fastest way to resolve her issue, to get her out of the restaurant and into his bed.
“Relax,” Luca murmured, speaking to her reflection in the elevator’s glass door. Her eyes darted to his then shifted away. “I won’t bite,” he couldn’t resist teasing, “unless you want me to.”
He saw her blanch, and Luca swore silently when she laughed in a strained manner. Was she fucking thinking about Markos again? Cared about his friend more than Luca thought she did? Worse, was she just giving herself over to him while still pining for Markos because she was desperate now and Luca was
her next meal ticket?
He deposited the paper bag carelessly on the table in the foyer of his suite. He gestured for her to precede him into the living room. Her eyes swept around the spacious suite and landed on the blue and white mural that took up one wall of the living room.
She approached it and peered at it more closely. “They’re made of small squares with the Greek key pattern,” she said animatedly, a bit too much, the way one did when one was masking how uncomfortable one was. “Oh, it’s a closed meander with eight horizontal bars. How clever!”
She was referring to the labyrintine pattern of the lines that created the illusion of “meandering.” Luca was surprised by her knowledge. “I took up Fine Arts in college,” she explained at the look of surprise he hadn’t hidden well. The press write-ups had made her sound like a freeloader.
He removed his jacket and draped it on a cobalt sofa. “This is the model suite. My sister was allowed free rein in decorating it.”
“It’s very beautiful.” She twirled about slowly, taking in the design of the room.
“Management just picked the elements they wanted to go with in the other rooms. The Konstantinos are a more conservative lot when it comes to their interiors.” He crossed to the bar. "Would you like a drink?”
She started walking around the room, trailing a hand on the couches, the coffee table top, the throw pillows. Luca imagined her hand on his body trailing a sensual path. She was so lost in her discovery that Luca had to repeat his question.
“Would you like a drink?”
She blinked and her reverie was gone. Back was the wary but curious glint in her brown eyes. “No, thank you.”
Luca downed a gulp of whiskey. The urge to throw her on top of the bed, slam inside her, and have her moaning and writhing was so overwhelming that he gripped the tumbler harder than necessary. The cautiousness in her eyes was now spreading to her body. The rigidity in her stance was back. She had wrapped her arms around her, as if she had gone cold.
“Why are you here with me, Sabrina?”
She didn’t expect the question. The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile that looked flat. She dropped her arms to her side. “I told you already.” She took a deep breath that inadvertently jutted her luscious breasts into prominent display. It was probably made to look unconscious, but Luca suspected it was calculated. It was very effective. He went hard. “Humor me.”
“I’m attracted to you. And I want you.” Her quietly spoken words made him harder. Her eyes shifted away from him and stared in the direction of the walls. Her cheeks were flushed.
How could she say something so direct and yet be so timid at the same time? Which was the truth and which was an act? She wanted him but seemed conflicted about it. Was Markos still on her mind? What if he was the rebound fuck like what she said back in the restaurant? And why the hell should it matter? They were engaging in a fling, not a long-term relationship.
Like a cork that kept bobbing up and refused to stay under water, the truth popped out of the surface, defiantly buoyant. Sabrina had to want him as much as he wanted her. He wouldn’t go through with it any other way. If she was only after attending the royal wedding, then Luca would have to let her go, even if it was the last thing he wanted. But surely he couldn’t be mistaken about their mutual physical attraction, could he?
He hated this sudden attack of insecurity, resented her for making him feel it, so he said:
“Prove it.”
Prove it? Sabrina thought with a bit of hysteria, trying to tamp down her panic. She had to prove she wanted him? Wasn’t it enough that she came to the suite with him? Why wasn’t he jumping her like any normal male would? Did he expect an elaborate seduction scene? Maybe she could excuse herself first, go to the bathroom, and ask Chase for advice, she thought wildly.
The air conditioning felt suddenly cold. She told herself that was the only reason why her nipples were peaked. He was leaning a hip against the bar, coolly observing her, like if she didn’t pass muster he would turn away from her, thoroughly bored. Her eyes took in his casual stance. His long sleeved shirt was plain baby blue, but the slim-fitting trousers elevated his conservative outfit to another level. Her eyes drifted downwards to his buckled leathered shoes then jerked upward again to confirm what her gaze had glossed over.
He was aroused.
She saw him take a casual sip of his liquor, looking indolent and arrogant. His posture indicated that yes, he might want her, but he wanted her to make the first move. Was he playing hard to get?
The beautiful jerk! Didn’t he know how many men she had rejected in the past? How many men had wanted her? Sabrina had never capitalized on her looks. It was just an accident of nature that she was bestowed with beauty, like her ten fingers and ten toes. It was nothing special. It didn’t make her mother love her after all.
But her having to work at getting a man’s attention? Luca wanted her to know that he might want her, yes, but he would still have the upper hand. Was this some kind of power play? Sabrina was going to make sure she demolished his control just like he demolished hers.
She locked her eyes with his as she bent down and reached under the hem of her dress, careful not to lift it. Luca’s blue eyes narrowed. She grasped the upper edges of her underwear and slowly peeled it down, making a grand production of it. She was glad she had thought of wearing one of Chase’s purchases for her. He loved women’s lingerie and often joked about the vicarious thrill he got while buying them for Sabrina.
Luca didn’t move, but his breathing had grown shallow.
“You want proof?” She held up her red panties with the tip of a finger, a hand on her waist, a hip cocked. Who knew she had it in her to be such a tease? She saw his grip tighten on the glass tumbler. “Here’s your proof.” She balled the fabric up and threw it at him. The splotch of flimsy red landed on his chest. He caught it with one big, tanned hand. She laughed nervously at the look of surprise on his face.
He recovered quickly and shot her a look so white hot Sabrina would not be surprised if his gaze bore a hole between her eyes. He rubbed the red silk between his fingers slowly. Sabrina had never seen such an erotic sight until his thumb grazed the crotch of the panty where the evidence lay. “Fuck!” he growled. "You’re wet.”
Her legs clenched at the sight of his finger touching the moisture on the fabric. What he did next turned her limbs to jelly.
Luca brought her underwear to his nose, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.
“Shit!” she whispered, scandalized and turned on as she had never been in her whole life.
He moved so fast she didn’t see it coming. The sound of the glass slamming on the counter top was the only thing that registered and then she felt arms grasping her shoulders. She was shoved down onto the couch so fast it made her head spin. Her head thudded against the backrest. She shut her eyes to block the intense glitter in his eyes as he loomed above her, his right knee digging into the couch beside her right thigh. She felt him cupping her jaw and his thumb caressing the skin between it and her neck.
“Look at me, strega,” he ordered, his voice low and husky. His warm breath wafted towards her. She fluttered her lids open, following his command. “I want your eyes on me the whole time.”
“Wh-what are you going to do?” she croaked in fearful anticipation. Going to have sex with you, silly. Obviously.
“I’m going to make you undone, strega.”
She stared at him stupidly. Her limbs felt heavy and he hadn’t even done anything yet! His hands went to her knees and nudged them apart. She felt his hand on her inner thigh, a trail of heat stroking and inching higher and higher. Sabrina sank deeper into the couch, afraid and yet excited by his questing fingers. Her eyes remained locked on his and she saw him watching her like a prey about to devour his meal. Her breath hitched when he played with her curls and then seized when she felt his fingers stroking her outer folds. He rimmed the slit, toying with the entrance.
“You’re soaking wet,” h
e murmured wickedly.
The skirt of her dress still covered her and gave an illusion of modesty, but underneath it, oh God, his fingers were touching and stroking and then entering her. She clawed at the throw pillow beside her as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot that had her arching her neck. She wanted to close her legs and at the same time splay them wider.
“Eyes on me, strega.”
“I can’t-” she moaned as he flicked his wrist and changed the angle of his hand, his fingers scraping a spot that had her clamping her legs violently. “Oh, God!”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No!” she groaned.
“Then keep your eyes on me, cara.”
She opened her heavy lids. He was watching her face avidly. “You’re so responsive. I can’t wait to be inside you.”
“You don’t have to wait!.” She was surprised at the plaintive note in her voice. “I want you now.”
“I want you to come first” His fingers began moving more rapidly, thrusting, flicking, circling inside her. “Put your feet up on the couch.” He bent closer, pushing down the strap of her dress to bare her breast. He cursed in Italian then swooped down to catch her nipple between his teeth.
Sabrina bucked at the jolt of lightning the sharp tug on her nipple caused. She clutched at his hair as he began sucking to the rhythm of his fingers between her legs.
Oh God! Oh God! She was so close.
“Let go, strega. I’ll catch you."
Luca’s mouth claimed hers for an open-mouthed kiss just as the first tremors of her orgasm started. She felt it peaking and peaking until she spasmed with the most intense sensation. Her hips bucked off the couch, her shoes dug onto the mattress for purchase, and her fingers stiffened like talons and dug into Luca’s scalp. She felt him wince.
When the aftershocks subsided, she drew her hands back and released him. Her chest was rising and falling in choppy cadence. “Shit,” she said reverently. He was nuzzling the side of her throat, one hand stroking her thigh, gentling her when he stilled at her pronouncement. He raised his head from her neck and slanted her a smug glance that quickly turned perplexed.
When She Fell for the Billionaire Page 6