Kissing Kosta

by Mia Madison

  Kissing Kosta

  An Adamo Story

  Mia Madison

  Contents

  No Games

  Alpha, Schmalpha

  My Own Personal Fantasy

  Rumors

  The Edge of His Control

  Shatters

  Already Mine

  Hard the Whole Time

  Grilled

  Things You Don’t Know

  Heaven to Hell

  Always

  Epilogue

  Also by Mia Madison

  About the Author

  KISSING KOSTA

  Copyright 2016 Mia Madison

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental. The sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Created with Vellum

  No Games

  “You’re up, Erin,” Rico calls across the garage to me. I look up from the invoices I’m entering to see a long, low, shiny black dream of a sports car pulling up to one of the bays. Ooh. I wonder who that is?

  It’s a busy day at Revved — which is to say, a typical day. Known as the best garage in the state (and beyond), Revved has a constant stream of customers bringing in their cars and bikes for quality repairs and custom detailing.

  Right at the moment, Jake Denton is talking to a customer who’s picking up his bike. Nicky Santos is in Bay 1 with some fancy sports car completely torn apart. And Rico Adamo, who owns Revved along with his twin brother Dante, is under the hood of a Range Rover.

  All the other guys who work here are busy too, getting something from our adjacent parts store (which Dante runs), or writing up intake reports. Hence Rico tagging me to handle the new customer.

  The windows are tinted, and I get a little thrill as I draw near. Everyone who’s anyone comes here, so we’ve had our share of celebrities and politicians and other heavy hitters. I reach the car just as the driver’s side opens and a man steps out.

  My heart skips a beat as a strong profile comes into view. I’ve seen this man before … just once. On a memorable night when my best friend Cait and I snuck into his nightclub with fake IDs. And in the weeks since then, not a day has passed that Constantine “Kosta” Adamo hasn’t been in my thoughts. Or my dreams. Often, to my torment, he’s in both.

  He doesn’t look as good as I remember — he looks better. Thick, dark hair with a sexy stubble on his chin, straight nose, strong jaw, a sensual mouth that makes mine water.

  I drink him in with my eyes, the professional words of greeting I had prepared nowhere to be found. He turns, sees me, and goes still. His eyes are an amazing golden brown, like fine whiskey.

  Our surroundings disappear. It’s just the two of us, staring at each other as if the fate of the world depended on it. Civilizations might crumble if we dare to look away.

  Then he smiles. It’s a small, secret smile, as if the universe has just given him an unexpected gift. It makes shivers go dancing up my spine.

  “Hey,” he says.

  Like any smitten woman, I take stock of my appearance. Working in a garage is not exactly glamorous, so I’m in black jeans, black comfort shoes (embarrassing), and my Revved smock top. This would normally be embarrassing, wearing a smock top in front of a hot guy, but the Revved ones are actually pretty cute. We get our choice of colors, from red to coral to rose to pale pink. They’ve got darts so they fit nicely. And they’re a cotton blend, not polyester, so all in all they could be worse.

  “Hey.” My hand comes up and I wiggle my fingers at him. “Hi.” Have I mentioned that I’m an enormous dork?

  Kosta’s smile gets bigger. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says. As if we’re old friends. When the truth is, I went upstairs with him to his private office after approximately two point five seconds of acquaintance — shortly before being escorted home by my homicide-detective-father’s fellow cops.

  I wasn’t there long enough for anything to happen between us, and there’s a constant tug of war between the parts of me that are relieved, and the parts that think it’s a damn shame. But now, being in his presence again, my mind may be torn but my body knows exactly what it wants. No man has ever made me vibrate, right down to my cells, the way he does.

  He arches a brow, and I realize he’s been waiting for me to answer while I’ve been staring at him. Erin fail! I start to babble. “Nope, that’s true. You sure haven’t. Whatever you’ve seen, it hasn’t been me.”

  His smile morphs into a grin, and I want to die. Hot men who can have any woman they want don’t waste time with dorks. Just kill me now, universe, before I can humiliate myself any further.

  “Cugino.” Rico’s coming toward us. I glance toward the garage and see that everyone is watching me and Kosta. The universe must have heard my plea, because I am absolutely going to die now.

  Without another word, I turn on my heel and practically run back into the garage and behind the counter. Maybe I can find a large plastic bag to wear over my head. The customers will just have to deal with it.

  All my efforts to keep my feelings about Kosta hidden have been obliterated. Our little exchange just now was pretty much the equivalent of me waving a huge sign that says, “Ask me about my insane fixation on Constantine Adamo!”

  By the end of the day, the entire Adamo clan will know. Which means the whole damn state will know, because the Adamos are legion. You can’t turn around here without bumping into one. Their long-ago patriarch must have had at least twenty sons, each of whom apparently had a dozen or so extremely virile male offspring of his own. I’m not even kidding.

  Right now, I just want to disappear. Grabbing a stack of work orders, I start feverishly entering them into the computer. No matter what, I will not look up. Kosta does not exist for me.

  “Erin.”

  My head jerks up. Dammit — he’s standing right in front of me! “Crap,” I say. “I mean no.” I feel my face heating and I’d like to close my eyes but that would mean not looking at his exquisite maleness. “I mean, can I help you?”

  His grin flashes again. Any second now, he’s going to realize how demented I am and hightail it out of here. Which would absolutely, positively be for the best … no matter what my body wants.

  At close range, I’m forcefully reminded that Kosta is nowhere near my age. He’s got little bits of silver threading through his rich, dark hair, and crinkles at the corners of his eyes. But it’s not just that.

  It’s the knowledge in those eyes, the confidence, the self-assurance that edges right up to arrogance. Kosta Adamo is no callow college boy; he’s all man. And I’m afraid that just by existing, he may have permanently destroyed my ability to appreciate guys my own age.

  “You ran away,” he says.

  “I what?” I swear, usually my vocabulary is not so limited. “No, I didn’t.” I totally did.

  His eyes narrow. Damn, he’s even hotter when he’s annoyed. “Yeah, you did,” he says. “Two minutes ago, not to mention two weeks ago. You playin’ games with me?”

  “No,” I blurt. “No games.” I almost give him the Scout’s honor
sign, which would condemn me to irredeemable dorkdom forever. “I’m a no-games kind of girl.” I am totally a stupefied-by-desire kind of girl, but I don’t mention that. Not that it isn’t obvious anyway.

  Kosta holds out a business card and I stare at it as if it might explode. When I don’t move, he reaches out, takes my hand, and lays the card in it. Sensation ignites along my nerve endings, racing up my arm and down my torso to erogenous zones I didn’t even know existed. Kosta’s thumb glides along the inside of my wrist, and my nipples stiffen to hard peaks.

  Very gently, he folds my fingers down over the card. Then he lets me go, turns, and walks away without a backward look. I stand there, my whole body tingling, until I realize I’ve got an audience again.

  Rico has his eye on me. I can’t read his expression so I’m not sure what he’s thinking, and I decide I don’t want to know. Tucking the card away in a pocket of my smock top, I get back to work.

  When it’s time for my break, Kosta’s car is still here. He’s probably over in Revved Café, where I usually work. Yes, a garage with a café. Originally it was a separate business adjacent to the Revved property, but when it came up for sale, Rico and Dante bought it because so many of their customers hang out there. Their younger brother Victor, who’s a genius in the kitchen, runs the café for them.

  Anyway, we all cross-train so we can help out in any part of the business, so today I’m the garage, but no one would think it was weird if I took my break in the café. In fact, it would be weird if I didn’t. If Kosta happens to be there, I’ll just … ignore him.

  Satisfied with my plan, I clock out. It’s a warm summer morning, with only a scattering of fluffy white clouds overhead. I hurry to the café, which is on the street next to the entrance to the garage and parts store. Though I want to, badly, I don’t let myself hit the bathroom first for any touch-ups to my hair or makeup. It would be wrong to get prettied up for a guy I shouldn’t even be thinking about.

  As soon as I push through the doors, I see him. He’s in a circular corner booth with two men. One’s his younger brother Carmine, who works as a bartender at the club. I don’t recognize the other guy, but he looks like an Adamo.

  I keep staring at him, as if there were a magnetic connection between us. Which apparently he feels too, because he turns his head and his gaze locks on mine. Tearing my eyes away, I make my way to the counter and slide onto a seat there.

  Cait’s working today, but our friend Gina, who’s also on, gets to me first with my standard iced tea. “Breakfast, lunch, or dinner?” she says. The café serves everything all day long, which is handy. I don’t ask to see a menu because of course I have it memorized, like all the waitstaff.

  “Western scramble with a side of salsa and a small orange juice.” My eyes, with a will of their own, dart sideways in Kosta’s direction.

  He’s watching me, that secret little smile on his face. This time it gets my back up, like he’s amused at how gaga I am over him. I bet he thinks he can just crook his finger and I’ll fall into his arms, like every other woman probably does.

  Well, he’s got another think coming. I may be a dork, and I may have a serious thing for him, but I do have some self-respect. Glowering at the counter, I take a sip of the orange juice Gina’s brought me.

  I can feel his eyes on me, and make a heroic effort to keep mine straight ahead, but with every second that passes, my resolution weakens. Only Cait’s arrival saves me from making an even bigger fool of myself. She leans on the counter and says in a quiet voice, “So what’s up with mister tall, dark and sexy?”

  Alpha, Schmalpha

  Cait knows all about my Adamo obsession, just like I know all about hers. The night we snuck into the club, Cait got drunk and wound up being carried out over Antonio Adamo’s shoulder. I may even have gotten a vicarious thrill watching Kosta’s cousin doing his macho alpha male thing.

  Right now, her eyes are alight, and I can’t help smiling. We’ve been friends forever, since we were little, and she’s got a permanent glow now that she and Antonio have finally gotten together. “Don’t let Tonio hear you talking about how hot his cousin is,” I tease.

  Cait rolls her eyes, but smiles back. “He wouldn’t care. I don’t think. And anyway …”

  She trails off, blushing, and I lean forward, my curiosity piqued. My bestie has been very reticent to share details about her new sex life. All I know for sure is that every time I see her, she wears the look of a woman who’s been recently and thoroughly satisfied.

  “Anyway what?” I say. Cait bites her lip, and I make a leap. “You like it when he’s mad at you?”

  Her blush, which was fading, comes back. “Really,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Are we talking punishment?” She doesn’t answer, but the blush gets deeper, and my eyebrows go up. “I wouldn’t have guessed you were into that.”

  One shoulder comes up in a half-shrug, and then she leans in so her mouth is right by my ear. “Let’s just say that there’s a very fine line sometimes between pain and pleasure,” she whispers. “And that context is everything.”

  “Damn.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “You’ll have to make your own discoveries in that department,” she says primly. “And on that note, we were talking about you and Kosta.”

  The thought of making discoveries with Constantine Adamo sends a shiver through me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, oh fount of Adamo knowledge.” Since Antonio, and by extension his family, were on Cait’s radar for so long before they got together, she’s usually a reliable storehouse of information on all things Adamo. “What kind of Italian name is Kosta?”

  Sure enough, Cait has the answer. “It’s actually a Greek nickname. His mother has some Greek ancestry along with the Italian, and Constantine/Kosta is a traditional name in her family, going back generations.”

  “He’s part Greek?” That sounds yummy. “As to your question … I’m ignoring him.”

  “I see that.” She leans closer. “Any particular reason?”

  “So he won’t think I’m just another star-struck groupie ready to worship his sex-god yumminess.”

  Cait flashes me a toothy grin. “I can’t vouch for Kosta, of course, but I can tell you that if he’s anything like his cousin, it’s a damn fine altar to be kneeling in front of.”

  I throw back my head and laugh. “Gotta say, it’s a beautiful thing to see you finally get in touch with your inner naughty girl.”

  “I was always in touch with her,” my bestie retorts. “We were just … waiting.”

  For Antonio. Cait fell in love with him when she was just a girl, and somehow knew that he was The One. I worried sometimes that she’d get her heart broken … and she almost did.

  “You know I’m thrilled that you’re so disgustingly happy, right?” I tell her.

  “I know,” she says, smiling softly. “I want you to be disgustingly happy too.”

  Tilting my head ever so slightly in Kosta’s direction, I say, “I’m pretty sure he’s not the path to happiness — disgusting or otherwise. Temptation, definitely. Pleasure, maybe. But happiness? Not so much.”

  “Because of your dad?” Cait says, her eyes sympathetic.

  “Not just that.” Though it’s definitely a part of it. Dad was freaked out when he learned I was not only in the club that night, but talking to Kosta — freaked out in a way that made me think it had nothing to do with the age difference.

  Gina brings my breakfast. “To be continued,” Cait says, and moves off to check her tables. Since it’s now been two whole minutes since I looked Kosta’s way, I glance casually over my shoulder.

  The three men are deep in conversation, but half a second after my eyes touch him, Kosta’s gaze cuts to me. I whip my head back around, my hair flying out around me, my heart beating like I’ve run up a flight of stairs. He really needs to stop catching me watching him. It’s not fair.

  Only the absolute certainty that giving in will lead to further
embarrassment keeps my eyes on my plate. Otherwise, I’d be looking at him every five seconds. Or maybe every two.

  Cait comes back. “What’s he doing?” I say immediately. From her position, she can scope him out in her peripheral vision without giving us away.

  Looking straight at me, she says, “He’s talking to a couple of guys. And watching you.”

  Her words electrify me. My whole body heats up, and I want to squirm on my seat. “Really?” I whisper.

  “Really,” she affirms. “Not constantly, but he keeps glancing over, or watching you from the corner of his eye.”

  “Damn. Now I want to get up and leave without looking at him, just to mess with him.”

  “You’re so bad,” Cait says, amused. “Is his car in the garage?”

  “Yeah. I talked to him when he first drove in, and then he came over and gave me his card after Rico wrote him up.”

  Cait’s eyes get big. “He gave you his card? What did he say?”

  “He asked me if I was playing games with him. But that was just before; he didn’t say anything when he actually gave it to me. I think he was annoyed with me.”

  My bestie gives a little shiver. “Annoyed Adamo men can be very hot.” She catches the way I’m looking at her and gives another little half-shrug, only mildly embarrassed this time. “It’s true.”

  It is, so I don’t argue. Now the card is burning a hole in my pocket, demanding that I examine it for clues. “If I look at it, he’ll know,” I tell Cait.

  “Bathroom,” she says promptly.

  “Right. Back in a minute.” I jump up and head for the ladies’ room, pointedly ignoring Kosta when I pass his booth. Inside the bathroom, I lock myself in a stall and draw the card out.

  The front is a standard business card, classy but impersonal. I turn it over and my heart seizes, then tries to run the 400 meters in 2.8 seconds.