Blue-Blooded Romeo (The Royal Romeos #6)

by Jenny Gardiner

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced at the time on her phone and looked around for Alexa, who was nowhere to be found. “I think I’ve been stood up. By my own damned roommate.” She typed a quick text to her friend to find out when she’d be back. Her phone dinged immediately.

  “Sorry, didn’t I tell you? I had to leave to go pick up Antoine since he got out of work early. I’m spending the night at his place...”

  Stella frowned. “Dot, dot, dot. Curse her.”

  Domenico cocked his head to the side. “Dot?”

  Stella shook her head. “Lexie. She’s making a lot of presumptions, and suffice it to say I’m going to give her a serious piece of my mind the minute I see her.”

  “War is not the answer.” He grinned then motioned to Eric for two more drinks.

  Stella held up her hands. “Seriously, if I have another drink I will be incapacitated. Which is probably what my roommate would wish for.”

  “After the day you’ve had, I’d say it’s precisely what the doctor would order. And you are, after all, at Prescription. Take one more drink and then we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

  Stella was trying to figure out if Domenico was playing with her or not. He hadn’t made any advances, which got her thinking that maybe this was all a make-nice-over-drinks thing and they would go their separate ways and be done with it. She hoped that’s what it was from his perspective. Although the longer she sat with him, the more she’d started to entertain thoughts about the man. After all, he was actually fairly friendly. And easy on the eyes. And he filled out his pants so nicely. Not that that was a prerequisite or anything, but, hmmm... It had been quite awhile since she’d had fun with a guy. School was so demanding, and then she had that wedding cake job. For that matter, she hadn’t gone out and had fun of any sort for ages, let alone dabbled with a boy. Classes didn’t start for another day, so she had nowhere to be tonight.

  Eenie, meenie, miney, moe... This was awfully tempting to contemplate. She took a sip of her drink, licking the excess from her lips, and had an idea.

  “How do you feel about tangoing?”

  Chapter Eight

  Domenico could barely move his gaze from Stella’s mouth. Her pink tongue peeked out and followed along her lips, licking every last bit of the drink from her mouth. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he wanted to do with that tongue, and it was making him crazy. So when she asked him what he thought about tangoing, well, naturally his mind went straight to the gutter. He beamed at her. And Stella pulled up her phone and typed something into it. He had no idea what but hoped it was a text to her roommate to not come home till noon.

  “And by tango, do you mean what I think you mean?” He quickly slid his credit card to Eric to close up the tab. As soon as he’d approved the charge and left a fat tip on the bar, he looked at Stella, whose hand was reaching for his.

  She pulled him out the door of the bar and into the warm Parisian night air. They walked down to the corner where she waved her hand at an approaching car, then opened the door and stepped into an Uber. Domenico barely contained his joy that—barring unforeseen circumstances—he was going to get lucky with Stella Whitaker. He could not think of a better ending to this day.

  Except that the Uber pulled over right as they approached the River Seine, and Stella quickly thanked the driver as she got out at the Quai Saint Bernard. Domenico duly followed. It sure didn’t look like there was an apartment nearby. She pulled him along as they walked down a ramp onto a cobbled path toward an urban sculpture garden that led to a miniampitheater of sorts along the edge of the river.

  The Bateaux Mouches open-air boats glared their lights at nearby picnickers enjoying food and wine and a lovely night in Paris. More people were camped along the Île Saint-Louis with picnics spread out as well. The Gothic beauty of the Notre-Dame Cathedral loomed nearby on the Île de la Cité.

  Dusk fell late in Paris in the summertime, so the sky was just morphing from twilight into darkness. The lights of the city reflected in the water and the splash of waves as boats moved up the river lent a musical quality to the air. But the waves weren’t the only melodious interludes as they quickly approached a gathering of hundreds of people in and around the amphitheater moving to the beat of Argentine music.

  “This is one of the many things I love about Paris,” Stella said, pointing toward the couples entangled in the tango. “Every night people come out here to dance.” She nodded toward another nearby amphitheater, where people were doing swing dancing. “People of every stripe, from all over the world. Some are couples who came here together, but many are strangers who simply love to dance—they show up with their dancing shoes to find a partner and share the joy of the moment. There are men in turbans, women in saris, others in dreadlocks, and some in bare feet: people of many nationalities, happily joined together in dance.”

  “So, um, by tango, you meant actual dancing?”

  She laughed. “Of course. What else could I have meant?” Stella’s emerald eyes sparkled with mischief, and he was attracted to her even more. She could be an imp, it seemed. Which was okay. He could play this game. And lucky for her, he could also dance.

  “All right, then.” He extended his arm and her hand clasped his as he pulled her toward him into an embrace. They picked up the dance in the midst of the large crowd of dancers. “The gauntlet has been thrown.”

  There wasn’t a lot of room for anything too elaborate, but it didn’t matter. Being this close to Stella far exceeded Domenico’s expectations, so this was all icing on the cake. It didn’t hurt that he was a fairly decent dancer—something he’d picked up while at university when he realized how much women loved it.

  They moved together easily, and when the song changed, they stayed there dancing, rather than stepping back into the crowd of observers.

  “I have to say I’m impressed with your tango skills,” Domenico said.

  “Would it shock you to know that I picked this up by coming here as frequently as possible?”

  He nodded. “All the more admirable. It’s not the easiest dance to learn. How did you find out about it?”

  “Lexie’s boyfriend, Antoine, took us here the first time, when the weather turned and spring announced itself. We brought a picnic and sat on the steps and I simply couldn’t keep my eyes off people doing the tango, it’s such a gorgeous and sensual dance,” she said. “Yet you have in mind these gorgeous, lean, professional Argentine dancers but instead it’s normal people from all walks of life. Sometimes the old man dressed in shoddy clothing who looks as if he’s a vagrant will be the most talented tango dancer out there. And I love that people show up alone, slip off their street shoes, and pull on a pair of heels made exactly for this. I guess it intrigued me that some average nobody like me could learn to dance like that.”

  He shook his head. “I beg to differ with you but I’d hardly call you an average nobody. You’re soon-to-be-famous baker Stella Whitaker.”

  She scrunched her nose. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. You sure you’re not trying to butter me up?”

  “I’ve been trying to butter you up all day long but see where that got me,” he said with a laugh. “Right now I’m just being honest.”

  Stella blushed and looked away at the same time Domenico tried to do a stop with his foot when she was expecting to do a leg wrap. Instead she tumbled in what seemed like slow motion but was decidedly quick, landing amid a thicket of tangoing legs and feet, her leg half-twined around Domenico’s still, her cute floral dress hiked up over her waist, her insanely sexy hot pink thong the only thing he could focus on for a fleeting moment, before he dope-slapped himself and quickly scooped her up and carried her away from the crowd of dancers.

  “Oh my God, Stella, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He’d motioned for some spectators to scoot down on the stone amphitheater bench so that he could set her down and get a look at the damage. He settled in next to her with her legs draped over his as he checked out her ankle, which was swellin
g up angrily.

  Stella rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I can’t believe I fell ass over tea kettle in front of all those people.”

  “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have put my foot down just then.”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Please. That wasn’t your fault. I was the one trying out the fancy move. Rookie mistake. Totally my fault.”

  “Let’s agree to split the blame fifty-fifty, then.” He gently lifted her foot and pressed where a bruise was starting to blossom on the outside of her ankle. He undid the strap of her sandal, sliding the shoe from her foot. God, he’d much rather have removed that under far more alluring circumstances, maybe after having stripped her naked and taken a good, thorough look at her in only the thong and those strappy heels.

  “We need to get you back to your place and get some ice on this,” he said. “What’s your address?”

  He pulled out his phone, opened up his Uber app, and called for a ride. Then he rolled up his sleeves and lifted Stella into a seated position cradled in his arms as she wrapped hers around his neck. He carved a path through the crowd and carried her to the very spot where they’d been dropped off by Uber earlier. Flagging the driver, he motioned for him to pull up and loaded Stella in across the back seat as he climbed into the front seat.

  Twenty minutes later, they were in front of her building in Belleville. He helped to ease her from the car, and she buzzed them in through the ancient oak doors that opened to one of those lovely secret cobblestoned courtyards that are so ubiquitous in Paris. He momentarily set her down then turned to see three doors that led to three separate apartment buildings. “Which is yours?”

  Stella pointed at the one behind them. “But I’m afraid it’s not good news. I’m four flights up.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “No elevator?”

  She shook her head. “But seriously, you’ve done enough. I can get up the steps. I’ll be fine.”

  He opened his eyes wide. “Are you kidding? You’re not fine and I’m going to make sure I get you into your apartment safe and sound.”

  She shrugged. “Fine, but please don’t carry me. Maybe I can lean on you while I hold onto the railing?” She winced as she tried to put weight on her foot.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I’ve got this.”

  Stella sighed and let him pick her up yet again. “I owe you for this.”

  Domenico smiled. If only he could actually cash in on that IOU, he’d be a happy man.

  Chapter Nine

  It was after two in the morning when they finally entered her apartment. Stella felt like a huge pity project and hated that Domenico was wasting precious sleep time lugging her ass around.

  She opened the door and looked around for signs of her roommate, but clearly, she’d indeed opted to evacuate the place for the night. Which would have made this moment awkward except now that she was the walking wounded, it probably precluded anything else from unfolding. Bruised ankles and hookups didn’t go hand in hand.

  “Let me get some ice on this thing,” Domenico said as he opened the small refrigerator. He grabbed a nearby dishtowel and placed a handful of ice cubes from the tray into it, fisting the towel into a ball and gently pressing it on her ankle. She was stretched out on the pink sofa, hating being even remotely incapacitated. That was not how she preferred to operate.

  “You’ve done far too much already. And it’s so late. I give you permission to unburden yourself of any perceived obligations to me so you can go catch some sleep.”

  But he was not planning to leave anytime soon judging by the way he was moving down the hallway, scouting out the place.

  “So you share a room with Alexa?” he said as he poked his head into the bedroom.

  “Well, yeah. It’s Paris. We’re poor students. We were lucky to get a bedroom.”

  “And you share a bed as well?”

  She sighed. “I know, right? It’s fine except when her boyfriend comes over and I’m relegated to the sofa, which actually converts into a futon of sorts, so it works. I’m guessing you don’t have the same problems where you live?”

  Domenico laughed. “Not exactly,” he said. “Although if it’s any consolation, I still live in the same house I grew up in, but it’s not actually a house. It’s a bit more, well, spacious than that.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “Spacious?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, so it’s an Italian palazzo.”

  Her eyes grew wide. “You live in a palace?”

  “Does it help if I remind you that I live at home?” he shrugged. “I mean it’s not my palazzo. It’s been in my family for hundreds of years. So we all live there. It’s kind of what’s been done with the Romeos. For what seems like all of eternity.” He frowned.

  “Do you have any privacy there?”

  “That can be complicated to answer,” he said. “I mean it’s a big place, so it’s not as if anyone else can hear what goes on in my room. But there are times I could be bringing someone home and we happen upon my mamma doing her needlework in the great room. Now that can be awkward.”

  Stella laughed. “I bet your mamma knows everything that goes on in that house.”

  He nodded. “She is omniscient, no doubt about that.”

  “So do you like living there?”

  He raised his hands up in a sign of ambivalence. “Am I feeling stifled? You bet. Do I adore my family? Absolutely. Do I need some space although I live in a home that’s bigger than this building? Weirdly, yes.”

  “At least you aren’t stuck listening to your roommate and her boyfriend having sex four nights a week.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. That could be fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows and poked her in the ribs to tease her.

  “Thanks, but I’ll take a pass on that. The only upside is this building is ancient and the walls are pretty thick.”

  “I take it Alexa’s out for the evening, then?”

  Stella nodded.

  “In that case, let’s get you ready for bed so you can enjoy a night in your own room.”

  He helped her down the hall and into the room and sat her on the large bed.

  “Okay, where are your pajamas?”

  She frowned. “I sleep in my underwear.” She blushed as soon as she said it and needed to explain herself. “No air conditioning in this place—it gets hot!”

  “In that case, I guess I’ll help you get into bed and then I’ll be off.”

  Stella frowned. She didn’t exactly want him to “be off.” She’d had a fun night, and like she was thinking earlier, what the hell? Domenico was cute and sexy and sweet. Maybe a little playtime was in order. She could work around that bruised ankle.

  She extended her leg. “Would you mind taking off my other sandal before I slip under the sheets?”

  Domenico looked at her leg and smiled. “If you insist.” He leaned over and began to unbuckle the strap, then slowly pulled the shoe from her foot, dropping it to the ground. As he continued to hold her foot, he looked up and his jaw dropped. Stella had pulled her dress over her head, leaving her naked but for a hot pink bra that matched the thong she’d already revealed to him, albeit under awkward circumstances. “Um, would you like me to tuck you in?”

  Stella grinned. “Is that what they call it these days?” She crooked her finger and Domenico let go of her good foot, immediately inching his way toward her on the bed.

  “It?” he said, his breath coming faster.

  She pointed at him and then at herself. “When a man and a woman find themselves alone together and one is nearly naked and the other has entirely too many clothes on.” She popped the front hook of her bra and shrugged out of it quickly, then leaned forward and began to unbutton his shirt, the crisp, starched cotton yielding beneath her fingers. She tugged his shirttails from his waistband and reached her hands to either side of his collar, pulling him toward her until they were chest to chest, and her lips barely grazed his.

  “But what about your ankle?” He placed his l
arge, warm hands on her waist.

  “I’m pretty sure the best course of action is to get my mind off of it.” She slid her hands over his shoulders and pulled off his shirt. “I’m afraid I might need to lie down to relieve the pressure.”

  He groaned.

  “Although it looks like I need to help you relieve some pressure first.” Her fingers went to his pants and she unfastened the belt from its buckle, deftly unbuttoning and then carefully unzipping the pants, before she fell back against the pillows, pulling him down against her. “There. How’s that?”

  “Fucking unbelievable,” he said as he settled his mouth over hers, first softly but then with more pressure, his tongue pressing along the seam of her lips so that she opened to him. They both groaned as their tongues met, taking turns stroking, licking, and tangling with one another.

  Domenico’s hands skimmed along Stella’s body until finally, his thumbs found her nipples, which he pinched and massaged till they were hard points. It was Stella’s turn to groan. She got even by pulling him closer, pressing her hands on his ass, so that his swollen cock urged itself against the juncture of her legs.

  “You have entirely too many things on still,” Stella said between kisses, her hands sliding beneath his briefs and skirting them off his ass. Domenico took over and pulled his pants and briefs off, tossing them to the floor as he nudged her legs apart and settled himself between them. He kissed her nose. “There. How’s that.”

  “Much better.” She ground her hips against him and he let out a low growl as his lips found their way around her face, her chin, down along her throat, her breasts, and finally settled on a nipple.

  Stella bit her lip and moaned, it felt so amazing. It seemed like forever since she’d done this with a man. What on earth had kept her from it? Other than she didn’t want to start something when she wasn’t going to be able to finish it. But who said she couldn’t start and stop it all in one day? She could happily have this little fling with him and get back to normal tomorrow. He was only visiting Paris anyhow. It’s not like this could go any further. So what was wrong with the here and now? À la minute, to filch a French culinary terminology.