“Oh my God, you were an escort?” I half joked, until I realized he wasn’t laughing.
“No… close. I was a stripper.”
“You’re funny.”
“I’m serious.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s why I got my nipple pierced. Helped with tips.”
I tilted my head, absorbing what he had casually dumped on me. “I can see it.” Remembering how he moved at Alessandro’s, I most definitely could imagine Dante on stage as a room full of women gawked, shoving money into his… “What did you strip down to?”
“A very skimpy G-string,” he responded, raising a brow. “You’re imagining it, aren’t you?”
“Most definitely.” Why bother denying it? I would need to see that routine in person.
Reading my thoughts, his expression turned from teasing to smoldering before he said, “I’d be happy to give you a private performance whenever you like. I may be a bit rusty, but it’s probably like riding a bike.”
“I couldn’t ever do something like that.”
“Sure you could.” As I shook my head in denial he reached over, surprising me by cupping my face. “Cassandra, the way you danced with me, the way you posed for me, you absolutely could if you allowed yourself to let go.”
“Let go?” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t know the meaning of it. Even after all those years in dancing school, ballet was my only option because of its sophistication.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Sophistication? Dancing should be an expression of one’s self. Did you even like ballet?”
“No,” I responded truthfully. “It was boring.”
“So then why did you do it?”
“It was all part of the Brooks family protocol.” I stopped, not wanting to get into it with him. The last thing I needed was for Dante to think I was some sort of prude. Then again, it could explain my behavior since the night we had sex. Changing the subject, I asked, “I still don’t understand how that led to photography.”
“The owner of the club I danced in knew I studied photography and asked me to take shots for her ad campaign. Seemed reasonable, and that was something I could use on my résumé. A big fashion editor saw the ad, and long story short, my stripper career ended shortly after, and my fashion photography career began.”
“Now that makes sense. I guess things happen for a reason, and stripping led you to your dream job.”
“Not exactly. I do love what I do, but it wasn’t always what I dreamed of.” I watched as he distractedly plucked a flat shell from the sand and rubbed it between his fingers. I took the opportunity to admire every manly inch of him. The camera strap crossed over his lean, tan torso, just below his piercing. The sun highlighted every dip and crevice of muscle. Even the position of his bent legs, long and muscular, peppered with the right amount of hair, was a turn-on. But I’d have to admit, watching as he sat contemplating whatever was on his mind, wondering what caused his jaw to tighten and his throat to bob with a swallow, made him even more intriguing… and even sexier.
“What do you dream of doing?” I asked, it being the next logical question. Dante’s contemplative gaze swung my way and his eyes widened a fraction, making me wonder if he had been so lost in thought he didn’t hear me.
“For one semester I studied abroad, and luck brought me the opportunity to complete an apprenticeship in Milan under the notorious photographer Matteo Romano. We developed a friendship, and I eventually became his protege. That experience changed me.”
Hearing what inspired Dante fascinated me. “How so?”
“Because of Matteo, I’d love my work to be in a gallery someday, a museum, maybe. An exhibit of stills and not people. I’d love to travel every corner of the earth and encapsulate its uniqueness. Not everything is beautiful. Being able to take something ugly yet make it interesting enough to have it speak to the person staring at it is what challenges me. I see a story in everything I shoot. One of my goals is to have my photos capture either a person, place, or time. Maybe even an inanimate object… the subject isn’t as important as the story it holds.” That surprised me more than his admission of stripping. He looked so comfortable photographing people, until I remembered him stopping to take a picture of a pigeon at the park, which along with his admission suddenly gave a deeper retrospective of the man behind his lens. “You look shocked by that,” he said, picking up on my reaction.
“No, not shocked in a bad way. It just seems so different than what you actually do photograph.” I didn’t want to insult him. Insinuating he had that artsy quirk that made people who didn’t appreciate art question why he saw beauty would out my insecurities. Or reveal why I questioned how he believed I was pretty enough to be photographed by a professional like him.
Dante continued to stare at me, waiting for an elaboration. “Okay, like that day at the park, the things you took notice of confused me. And the framed stills in your room. I get it now. A brilliant photographer can find beauty in anything, and not just gorgeous supermodels. Now that I’ve gotten to know you a bit, I think you possess that quality, Dante.”
In the way he regarded me for a moment, I wondered if he understood why I felt unworthy of being photographed. “I don’t find beauty in everything, Cassandra. But when beauty does capture my attention, it tends to consume me.” He paused, allowing me to absorb his words. “Back to you. I’m curious about this protocol you mentioned in your family. Tell me what you meant.”
“I’d rather not.” That wasn’t a road I wished to travel with Dante. Hell, Mr. Intriguing in everything he did wouldn’t understand the world I grew up in. I stood and brushed sand off the back of my legs. “Ready to head back?”
He gripped my wrist and tugged hard enough that I landed on his lap. His compelling gaze boring into mine felt more serene than interrogating. After he cocked a brow and I still hadn’t spoken, he said, “We’re staying right here until you explain.”
Chapter 14
Dante
Forcing Cassie on my lap with her face inches from mine, her sweet ass pressing against my cock, may not have been the best-laid plan on my part. Because all I wanted to do was roll us over to devour every inch of her… public beach be damned.
Needing to avoid being arrested, I repositioned her until she straddled my thighs and her butt rested on the space of sand between them. “So? I’m waiting. What did you mean about protocol?” Predictably, her crystal-blue eyes shifted away from mine. Holding her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I brought her attention back to me. “Talk to me, Cassandra.”
“It’s stupid, and embarrassing.” Wisps of her blond hair gently blew across her face. I tucked a strand behind her ear, prompting her to explain with my expectant expression. “I had a very structured childhood. A dad on the medical board, a mom involved in every charitable event our town hosted. Private schools, etiquette school, and not only the ballet classes I mentioned, but ballroom dancing as well. Because we all know possessing the skills needed for a proper foxtrot is what life is all about,” she rambled on, finishing with an exasperated eye roll. “It was all a bit stifling, until I got to the city and started teaching. I love my parents, and they are very generous and good-hearted. They’re just a bit dull.”
What she just revealed explained a lot, although I had suspected a naughty side through sparks of mischief in her eyes when we had sex. In the short time I’d known her, I could tell she was so much more than a kindergarten teacher who loved to read.
“Was teaching your idea or theirs?”
“Mine. If they had their wish, I’d be married to a surgeon, raising my own kids and not a classroom full of others’ children.” She paused to stare at the ocean. “I love kids, love watching them grow and mature under my instruction. Encouraging them to be whatever they want to be.”
“But?” I could tell she became increasingly uneasy under my scrutiny, but I wasn’t going to back down. Cassie needed to be challenged. Maybe challenged wasn’t the correct word… provoked, stimu
lated, spurred to step outside her comfort zone?
“But nothing.”
“Is teaching your dream job?” As she parted her lips to speak, I stopped her by brushing my thumb across them. “Don’t say yes yet. Think about it. If you could do anything at all, what would you love to do?”
With the sexiest show of confidence, she looked me in the eye and said, “Strip?” That one fucking word unleashed a barrage of lust that traveled from my brain to my cock. The way my mouth hung open in shock must have been what caused her to giggle adorably. “Gotcha.”
When I gripped her ass and pulled her closer, close enough to torture me, the levity fell off her face. “Be careful, Cassandra. Kidding or not, I’ll be holding you to that.” My eyes dropped to witness her tongue skimming over her lips. Ignoring everything and everyone, I closed the distance and did what I’d been wanting to do all day.
I was pretty sure the way our bodies pressed together, while our mouths forgot we were on a public beach, could be considered indecent. Honestly, I had zero fucks to give. The more I tasted her, the more I fought the urge to lay her flat and fuck her senseless.
Everything I’d missed since our night together came crashing back into my subconscious. And I hadn’t realized I missed it so fucking much until now. I knew I wanted her, but damn, I really hadn’t considered how much. Scenarios began flipping through my mind as I weighed the consequences of staying where we were or running back to the house and hoping the rest were still out. The dilemma nagged with each heated kiss, each grind of our hips. I needed her, and a ridiculous part of my logic actually considered taking her right then and there.
Funny enough, though, a higher power felt otherwise, because a surge of water came rushing over our bodies, causing Cassie to squeal. The goddamned surf snapped her back to reality, forcing her to bolt off my lap. Annoyed, she lifted her drenched cover-up to wring it out, and in the process revealed those stunning toned legs. While coated in sand and seawater, getting a glimpse of the black nylon covering her pussy made it impossible for me to stand without bringing attention to the hard-on tenting my suit.
“Oh my God! I have sand everywhere. Something is on me!” She reached around to the back of her leg and plucked a piece of slimy seaweed off. “Eww!” After flinging it away, she started spinning, mimicking Wonder Woman while peeling off her wet, sand-coated cover-up and dropping it to the ground. In nothing but that fucking string bikini, a visual I’d never forget, she asked, “Is there any more on me?” Ignoring her, I lifted my camera and started snapping shots in rapid succession to capture it for selfish reasons. “Dante! Stop taking pictures and help me! I feel gross.”
“Okay, okay.” I chuckled and still managed to take two more shots before conceding to her demands. In a swift motion, I set my camera on her discarded clothing, tossed her over my shoulder, and ran into the ocean. It took a few seconds for it to register where we were headed. At the first splash of salt water, squirming and squealing began.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m helping.”
While hanging upside down, her hands clenched the sides of my waist. “This isn’t helping. I swear to God if you drop me, I’m going to kill you.” Undeterred by her threat, I took a few more steps into the ocean, earning me a firm slap on my left ass cheek. My response was to smack her back. “Ouch!”
“I thought you wanted to play?”
“I’m not playing; we need to get back. You’re making things worse. Now I’m even more drenched than I was before. Let me down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I slowly lowered her, enjoying how every inch of her slid down every inch of me. First, her tits grazed my shoulder. Then, with my hands on her rounded ass, I positioned her body flush against mine, giving her no other option but to straddle my torso. “Since you riled me up, before I attempt to walk back to the house, I need to cool down.”
Another wave rushed behind my legs. The shift in our bodies, manipulated by the water, caused Cassie to settle against my erection, garnering a small moan from her and a louder one from me. With her arms around my neck, her legs gripping my hips, and her eyes boring into mine, she wasn’t helping our predicament.
“I riled you up?” Her voice barely above a whisper made me wish we were on a secluded beach.
“Yes. You. Now kiss me, Cassandra. And then we’ll head back.”
“Dante, that’s how we got here to begin with… from one kiss gone atomic. You’re not capable of one kiss.”
Not agreeing with her assessment, I took matters into my own hands, cupped the back of her head, and crushed her lips to mine. When she didn’t resist, I decided if she thought the first one was atomic, then I’d make sure this one would be nuclear.
The combination of saltiness, blending with her natural sweetness, made her lips one of the best things I’d ever tasted. As my tongue tangled with hers, our bodies clung together like magnets. Each swell of surf moved us like we weighed nothing. Her grip around my neck tightened; mine on her head and ass did as well. And just when things were getting good, a huge wave decided to end our foreplay yet again.
I surfaced first and caught a glimpse of Cassie sputtering a few feet away. “Are you okay?” I asked, reaching for her to pull her back into my hold.
“No!” She wasn’t amused at my chuckle, but survival had her accepting my help by jumping back into my arms. “Get me out of here, please. I hate the ocean.”
“Then why are you in it?” I asked, earning me a glare. “The ocean is one of my favorite things.”
“I love to look at it from afar. There are things that live in here that I don’t want to meet. It feels gross, sand gets everywhere, and it’s itchy. The walk back is going to be torture.”
“I’ll carry you,” I easily offered. After picking up her cover-up and my camera, I then squatted and said, “Hop on.”
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.”
To my delight and without hesitation, she jumped on like a spider monkey and quipped, “Please don’t think less of me for accepting. Thank you.”
“Never, and it’s my pleasure.”
Cassie
Damn. I was sure I looked a mess—matted seawater hair, wet sand everywhere. Even through my disheveled state, the man made my body fill with need. Why? What was it about him that made me crave more? With each step he took, the more my hands itched to slide up and down his wet torso. My lips begged me to kiss his slick neck, and my vagina ached for him to turn, head back to the water, and fuck me.
Trying to fight or deny Dante’s sensuality was futile.
The walk back took no time at all, most likely because all I could think of was our time together in his bedroom. Christ, I wanted this man more and more with each minute I spent in his company, and despite trying, I wasn’t hiding it very well.
I thought back to Vanessa’s simplification of the situation. “You’re both adults. What is it with adults denying themselves because they think it’s wrong?” As I hung on his hard, muscular back, my arms snaked around his shoulders, my feet bumping against his thighs with each step he took, and it was harder and harder to argue with her rationale.
Laughter filled the air as Dante climbed the steps to the deck. When we were spotted, it was as if everyone forgot what they were talking about. The only sound left was the surf behind us and the seagulls singing overhead.
They were showered and neatly dressed, and sitting around the table laden with fresh fruit and a variety of cheeses. The men were enjoying beer, while the ladies were having margaritas. God, I could go for one of those.
“Looks like we missed the party,” Dante said with amusement.
Eyes as big as frisbees stared at us. Glancing at the stunned expressions, I was at a loss for words. Of course, in true Vanessa fashion, she popped a grape in her mouth and smirked like the devil. “Looks like you’re having a party for two. Did you kids have fun today?” she asked, before she began to chew. “What does Dante charge for piggyback rides?” She tosse
d in a wink for good measure.
“I hate walking in sand while wet,” I said with a shrug, pretending this was no big deal. Except it was.
“Where have you guys been?” Brae asked next. “We’ve been back for a while.”
“We went for a long walk,” Dante responded for me. “What did you guys do?”
“We went shopping and then once Kyle started bitching and moaning, we hit a brewery,” Vanessa said. “He hates shopping.”
“Well, that explains all the smiles,” Dante said with a chuckle.
I relaxed my legs a bit and whispered, “Put me down, please.” Dante craned his head back just a bit, squeezed my ass, and set me on my feet. “Thank you.” Trying to be cool and unfazed, I ran my fingers through my soaked hair, but they got stuck at the ends. Sabrina cringed and probably wished I was in her salon right now. Truth be told, so did I. Looking at everyone, I decided to focus on Vanessa. “Yes, we did have fun until I was attacked by seaweed.” I swept my hand in front of myself. “Hence the reason I look like this.”
Her smirk deepened. “Mm-hmm.” Ugh. I should have focused on Brae.
Dante set his camera on the table before offering me my soaked cover-up. “Cassandra, do you want this? It’s drenched.”
Luca, who was mid-swallow, began coughing. Once he regained his composure, he looked at his brother. “Cassandra? No one calls her that.”
“Well, that’s her name. And I do.” Everyone’s eyes bounced between us, while I stood stiff as a board that people could easily have used to surf on.
Kyle cocked his head to the side. “It is?”
We all turned to our fun Canadian friend. “What did you think it was short for?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I didn’t. I just thought your name was Cassie. Like mine is Kyle.”
“It’s a nickname, just like how you call Vanessa, Nessa.”
Kyle winked at Vanessa, who added, “That started when we started fucking.”
“Anyway,” I said, trying to take the attention off of myself, “what’s the plan for tonight? Is Jude gracing us with his fabulous grilling skills?” I snagged a towel and wrapped it around my waist before Brae handed me a margarita.
The Mr. Wrong Series Page 91