Who was she kidding? Tom-a-to, tom-ah-to.
“I’d like to say I’m sorry, but under the circumstances, I’m not particularly upset that you seem to have evened the score.” She shrugged her shoulders.
One side of his mouth lifted into a grin. “Busted.”
They stood there in silence for ten seconds.
“Soooo, you rang?” he said.
She winced. “I guess I was coming over to explain what happened and to try to come to some sort of meeting of the minds over how to handle this. Because, well, after all, I’m going to have to work with you and you’re going to have to work with me—”
He shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”
She frowned, and a dead silence again descended on the room. To avoid staring at his cock, which actually seemed like it was trying to ring the bell to start round two, she glanced around the room, which felt manly, in keeping with the man who oozed masculinity. The walls were a smoky gray and the furniture a sleek, contemporary Italian style, completely different from the Renaissance-style that defined her room. This man’s room would make a man want to tug up his pants at the thigh, straddle a bar stool, and toke on a Cuban cigar while bragging about his latest sexual conquests. All after a hard day’s labor.
Again she giggled. The two of them had knocked out some manual labor, alrighty.
“I’m naked before you and you laugh?” He squinted at her. “This is not good for a man’s ego.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I just had some thoughts run through my head that made me laugh. It had nothing to do with you. Well, I mean of course it had to do with you even though it wasn’t because of you.” She pointed at his dick. “I mean that. I wouldn’t laugh at that. Trust me on that.”
Really? Had she said that?
“You like it?”
Her eyes grew wide. How does one answer such a question? From a technical standpoint, hell to the yeah. She saw how big that thing was when he was about to explode. One thing she learned early on: size matters. So, yeah, she liked it plenty. But she wasn’t exactly entitled to have a say in it, technically. After all, he was here doing his business and she accidentally happened upon it. Then again...
She cocked her head at him. “You said ‘Sophie.’”
He looked at her, confused. “Huh?”
“You called out my name when you—”
It was his turn to shrug. “I walk in on a strafiga—a beautiful woman—who must have fallen asleep pleasuring herself. Mind you, I’m not sure how you would fall asleep in the middle of that, and that’s your business. But you wake, and without even trying, your body shudders in pleasure from a climax right before my eyes. Uh, yeah, after that, and before you cut off my balls for being there, I had to take care of matters myself, prontissimo.” He grinned. “And considering that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, it was you in my mind quando mi do una sega. When I gave myself a hand job, I imagined I was fucking you. Doggy style.”
Sophie blanched and cleared her throat.
Well. How do you respond to that? Why thank you for getting yourself off to thoughts of having sex with me. Even though we don’t exactly know each other. Although in a weird way, we sort of know each other intimately. Ish.
Good Lord, now she knew how Kim Kardashian must feel, thinking of all the boys who masturbated to thoughts of her big, frequently-bared-to-the-world naked ass.
At least Sophie hadn’t been in the habit of flaunting what she had in that manner. As long as this remained between the two of them, she could be sure no one else would be looking at her, thinking of doing it doggy style.
“Um, thank you? I guess?”
“Surely you must know that men always think of beautiful women they encounter when they’re masturbating.”
She arched a brow. “I guess different strokes for different folks?” She laughed at her own joke.
He bent his elbows and clasped his hands behind his head. She could see the hair beneath his armpits, her Achilles heel. Something about that made her want to drag her hands and tongue across his body like a hungry animal. God, she needed to calm the hell down.
“Can I ask you something?” She had to. She needed some reassurance.
He nodded.
She moved her finger slowly back and forth between them. “This,” she said, hesitating. “Now that we’re even, can we agree to keep this between the two of us? Because I would about die if word ever got out. I mean this is a really important assignment I’m on. I can’t screw up. And what happened today, well, not only would that be considered a huge professional screwup, my boss would never let me live it down. In fact, he’d be sure to have it carved on my tombstone. And I’d probably insist on being cremated to avoid that shame. Nevertheless, being a media guy, he’d be sure it was the lede in my obit.”
He gave her a look that told her she was speaking part gibberish to him. While his mastery of the English language—even transcending sexual talk—was pretty impressive, clearly some of the colloquialisms escaped him.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened here. I could lose my job. I know you’re not excited that we’re here, but, well, we’re here. Sorry.” She shrugged. “No one warned me about your objections. I’ll try to stay out of your way and you can avoid ever mentioning this episode again. Ever.”
“Capisco. I understand.”
She clasped her hands together and, stretching them backward, cracked her knuckles, a nervous habit she’d picked up in grade school and continued to this day. “In that case, I think I’ll go try to put my clothes on right-side out.” She pointed to the tag hanging off the cami top she’d quickly thrown on in her haste to catch him before he blabbed to the world about her embarrassment. “And I’ll pretend I don’t know you at dinner.” She forced a half-hearted smile.
He nodded as he dragged his hands across his chest, making her envy the hell out of those hands. “Va bene, bella. Va bene.” It was good. Or at least she hoped it would be.
Chapter Eleven
Lorenzo didn’t mind one bit that the hot producer sat at the dinner table like a gazelle ready to take a flying leap as soon as a lioness pounced. The fact was, while he couldn’t believe his good fortune at witnessing what he had with her today, it still didn’t erase that he didn’t want her and her crew to invade his privacy and make some sort of entertainment television show about his family’s life.
It was weird. And awkward. And meddlesome. And on top of it, everyone was expecting him to yet again play the role of the most handsome of the Romeos. He was completely over that. He simply wanted to be a working Romeo and not the go-to beauty queen of the family. If anything, that mantle should belong to his sister Valentina, not that she’d wear it either. It was strange being judged by your looks. Though if he were honest, he’d acknowledge that his looks had held him in good stead over the years. It took little to no effort for him to land whatever woman he wanted on any given night, for instance. Still, he didn’t want to be the family pretty boy. There was much more to him than his superficial good looks.
As he wandered down the corridor on his way to dinner, he hoped he wouldn’t run into that woman. He was going to need a little space between them or he was going to be in a semihard state for the next however long she was here.
He arrived at the dinner table in time to see Gisele greet her brother Parker, who’d left New York to join his girlfriend, Tomasso’s sister Valentina, months earlier.
“Parks! I’m so happy to see you finally!” Gisele practically jumped into his arms.
“Happy to see me, but happier to see this one.” He directed his thumb at Tomasso. “Because I know you’ve been with him all day and never even went out of your way to find me.” He pushed his lip in a fake pout.
Gisele frowned. “So maybe Sophie and Justin and I were just getting our bearings! But we’re here! Aren’t you excited!”
“You’re like a giant exclamation point. I am thrilled to have you here, sis. I t
hink you’ll like it.”
“I trust Lorenzo made sure that you were comfortable?” their oldest brother Alessandro turned to ask Sophie.
Lorenzo glanced at Sophie in time to see a blush of pink shimmying up her neck to her face. Although she tried to look away, he stared right at her.
“Uh, yes, very at ease.”
“You might even say I made sure she was stress free.”
She clenched her jaw.
“Well, that’s quite a turnaround from earlier this afternoon, Lorenzo. I’m glad you’ve seen the light,” Sandro said.
“If only you knew what I’ve seen.” He arched a brow and grinned.
Sophie’s eyes opened wider than seemed natural, which entertained Lorenzo to no end. He was finding it great fun to see her squirm. Yet as soon as she had a chance, she threw him the side-eye, letting him know what she thought about his toying with her like that.
Toying. With her. Which made him think of her battery-operated toy. Which made him rearrange his napkin on his lap so no one could see his pants suddenly growing tighter.
He momentarily closed his eyes and all he could see was her hand on his cock. And all he could hear was her groaning his name. Ever since he’d found her with that toy inside her, he’d wondered what it would be like to be buried deep within her. He would tense, his nerves on edge and his muscles rigid. When he would call out “Sophie,” she’d pull him in even deeper, maybe while her tongue mimicked in his mouth what his cock was doing in her pussy. He shook his head. Merda. What the hell was wrong with him? He had to excise her from his brain. She was off-limits.
“Fabiana, this is truly amazing food.” Sophie swallowed a bite of the wild boar stew Fabiana had prepared. “Had I known how perfect authentic Italian food would be I would have come back to the homeland sooner.”
His mother smiled. “No need to flatter me, dear. I think it’s lovely that you’ve finally come to Italy and I hope we can make it a fantasy holiday for you.”
Lorenzo winced. Without a doubt, it started with a bang-up fantasy, that’s for sure. More like a banging fantasy. One that continued to loop through his head more than he cared to admit.
“Sandro, I understand your fiancée is Taylor McFarland, the famous model? That must be exciting,” Sophie said as she took a sip of her wine.
He smiled. “She’s amazing. I only wish she could be here all the time. Her career keeps her traveling far too frequently.”
“You’re going to need to put a bambino in her to settle her down,” Lorenzo said.
Sophie’s head whipped around to glare at him. “How very paternalistic of you. Maybe he could just plant a flag on her and colonize the woman.”
Lorenzo mentally ground his teeth as he counted to three before replying. “There’s something wrong with getting her pregnant?”
Sophie sputtered. “With getting pregnant? No. With wanting to place handcuffs on your wife or girlfriend or whatever the hell she is to keep her down on the farm? Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
Lorenzo looked at Sandro and said something in rapid-fire Italian then winked at his brother. The two men laughed. Gisele threw Tomasso a searing look that must’ve kept him from joining in the fun.
“What did he say?” Sophie said to Tomasso, who looked as if he was in the middle of an Inquisition and risked losing a couple of digits if he gave the wrong answer.
“Just a little joke about strong-willed American women,” Sandro said.
“Oh, because strong American women are a threat to dominant Italian men?”
Lorenzo caught Justin squinting at Sophie as he dragged his finger across his throat, the international symbol of shut-the-hell-up.
“I didn’t say that.” A look of bemusement danced in Lorenzo’s eyes. “It’s only that certain women seem to have a need to—”
“Basta!” Fabiana clapped her hands. “No disrespecting our guest of honor.” She reached over to pat Sophie’s other hand.
“Well,” Sandro said, saving the conversational lull, “in answer to your suggestion, Lorenzo, we’ve talked about a timeline, but we’re in no hurry. Besides, even if she does have children, she’ll still model. Marriage and parenthood don’t curse you for all eternity.”
Lorenzo frowned yet didn’t respond. He knew differently.
“What our guests don’t know is that with our brother Lorenzo, here, you’ve met the last of a dying breed: the avowed bachelor. Never to marry, no matter what.” Tomasso gave his brother a mocking two thumbs-up.
Lorenzo took a sip of his wine and smirked back at him.
“How can anyone flat-out say they’ll never settle down?” Gisele said. “It seems strange. How do you know? Maybe you’ll meet someone tomorrow and all of that will change. If you don’t give it a chance, you’re missing out.”
“I’m happy that settling down works for you. For me, though, it feels like settling, period. And it’s of no interest to me. Besides, what if I made the decision to spend the rest of my life until the end of time with one woman, only to find a better one the very next day?”
“Gee, don’t do the women of the world any huge favors,” Sophie said under her breath as she rolled her eyes.
“I’m serious,” he said. “What is the likelihood that you have this one person you are predestined to spend your life with? Hardly a day goes by I don’t happen upon a woman I’d like to get to know, and if I were married, I couldn’t do that.”
“And I’m sure you figure it’s far more generous of you to share that manhood of yours with as many women as possible,” Sophie said, her eyes going wide as if she immediately regretted saying it the minute it passed her lips.
“Well, would you look at the clock. It’s getting late.” Tomasso tapped on the face of his watch, yawning and stretching his arm around Gisele’s shoulder. “You guys have a lot of work to do tomorrow and I’m sure no one was able to sneak in a nap today. You all must be exhausted.”
“I think Sophie here had a good nap. Possibly even the best nap ever.” Lorenzo grinned as she threw him the stink-eye.
“Fabiana, your bed is tremendously comfortable. Lorenzo is right. I slept like a baby. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I will take advantage of the chance to get a good night’s sleep. Grazie mille for your wonderful hospitality.”
But Lorenzo was not going to be satisfied letting her have the last word and moments later politely excused himself from the table as well.
Chapter Twelve
Sophie didn’t know how she escaped from that meal without her house of cards collapsing before her eyes. The sheer arrogance of that man made her absolutely crazy. She wanted nothing more than to shake some sense into him and remind him that it was the twenty-first century and he wasn’t put on this earth to give women as many orgasms as possible before he died of too much sex.
She picked up the pace as she walked briskly down one corridor and another toward her room, not even stopping to admire the beautiful works of art scattered around her.
“So let me get this straight,” she heard the rich timbre of Lorenzo’s voice echo from behind her. “‘It’s far more generous of you to share that manhood of yours with as many women as possible’?” She stopped and turned to see where he was in time for him to run smack into her.
“Oof!” she said as his chest pressed into hers, which shouldn’t have felt as welcoming as it did.
“Cara,” he said, his hands pausing against her shoulders as he eyed her from top to bottom. “I thought we had an agreement that our little episodes were not to be discussed in mixed company.”
“I wasn’t discussing that, per se. I was merely remarking on the fact that you seem to be under the impression that you’re God’s gift to what you would consider the fairer sex and what I could rightly claim as the stronger sex.”
He let out a whistle as he shook his head. “You are one piece of work, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one.” Did she actually say that? Invoking schoolyard taunt number seventy-two in lieu of a s
nappier comeback? She glanced down at his hands that were still pressed to her shoulders, perilously close to her breasts, which rose and fell with the increasingly rapid breaths she was taking. Why did he make her so skittish? She was not a woman who let a man get under her skin. Growing up, she learned from watching her parents’ volatile relationship that doing so would only lead to tears and heartache, if not sooner, then later.
“Cara, I’m afraid even a strong woman such as yourself couldn’t handle even one night with me.”
Well, shoot. First off, she wanted to remind him that her name was Sophie, not whoever this Cara chick was he kept referring to. Figures, the guy had slept with so many women he couldn’t even keep the names straight with any female he met. Second, she was not one to let a gauntlet be thrown and unanswered. And that was one hell of a gauntlet he left dangling before her.
“What, because of your godlike sexual stamina? Or because of that thing you’re packing?” She stole a downward glance at it.
He shook his head, perhaps not expecting her to be that blunt. “My experience is it’s best not to go to the deep end if you don’t know how to swim.”
She glared at him. “And you’re suggesting that I’m somehow a rookie? I don’t have the resume for a roll in the hay with you?”
He arched his brow and gave her a half smile. “Trust me, cara, you’d need a life preserver to get in deep with me.”
“That’s good because you’ll never be deep in me.” She smiled. Score: Sophie one, Lorenzo zero.
“Suit yourself. However if you’d like me to take you under consideration, I can be flexible, and I’m always open to suggestions.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think you could handle the likes of me.”
He shook his hand as if he’d touched something hot. “Oh, cara, I can assure you, there, you’re sorely mistaken.” He leaned forward, coaxing her chin toward him with his finger. He gently pressed his mouth to hers, subtly stroking his tongue against her lips until she opened hers and they deepened the kiss. It wasn’t lost on Sophie as she betrayed her own best intentions that he was likely doing the same since she could feel him grow instantly hard, pressed up to her as he was. She decided to double down, grinding her hips against him till they both moaned.
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