Taylor sat up, shifting her T-shirt back down and pulling her panties back up and acting as if she’d just gotten busted by her parents after a steamy make-out session with her sixteen-year-old boyfriend in the family room. Not that she’d ever had that experience since she’d never brought boys home to the temporary places she’d inhabited as a kid. Boy, did she screw this one up. She couldn’t even tell Larkin about this because she’d never hear the end of it.
But one thing was for sure: what happened right now was the end of that. It was unfortunate that he was likely going to look at her like she was a total cock tease, which she wasn’t. At least not under normal circumstances. It’s just that she’d let things get away from her. It was the strangest of circumstances, the intimacy of a dark night, the connection over a scary experience, the security of strong arms and a warm body. Totally understandable. It would happen to most people, she was sure of that. But for now it was time to usher him out of her room.
Poor Sandro trudged uncomfortably out of the room with that hard-on of his getting in his way; his mint-green bikini briefs had seemingly taken on a life of their own. And while part of her wanted nothing more than to reach down to that tasty-looking mint package he’d gladly offered her for dessert, the other part of her knew she was wise and responsible to nip this in the bud.
She closed the door behind a fuming Sandro and pressed her body against it, just in case he tried to open it and insinuate his way back in.
It was then that she looked toward the wall of windows to see the most extraordinary sunrise: sleepy fingers of mauve and melon and rose creeping over the horizon and then the smallest semicircle of orange-ish-peach peeking along the edge of the distant mountains. It was breathtaking.
And she couldn’t help but think she wished she’d let Sandro stick around to enjoy it with her. Instead, the only cock she was left with was the one crowing not far outside her bedroom window.
Chapter Ten
It was a fucking glorious orange sunrise, yet all he had to show for it was a set of painful blue balls. Seemed like the only cock that got much of a workout in the past two hours was that damned rooster crowing his pleasure to the outside world. Of course the ice princess got what she needed but then promptly shut the gates to the castle tight.
Tight. Crap. The word made him think of where his fingers had been only a few minutes earlier: tight and wet and practically calling his name until she went all icebox on him. What the hell made women do that? Is it that they had some sort of sexual buyer’s remorse just before they hit the jackpot? Well, before the guy hit the jackpot at any rate. He’d rung her bell, and she’d seemed to be quite satisfied not only with the results but the process as well.
And now Sandro lay in bed, his hand on his cock, trying to put an end to the poor thing’s suffering so perhaps he could have a few hours of sleep. The last thing he needed was to be exhausted. He’d been willing to make that sacrifice if it had ultimately been worth it, but instead, what did he get? A good time, punctuated by mixed messages, finalized by a veritable guillotine drop. At least he was able to spare having the thing lopped off. He’d have to be grateful for that, for lack of anything better.
~*~
Sandro had a black cloud looming over his head as he worked his way toward the terrace for breakfast. So what that the weather was beautiful, the sun shining, the birds chirping? He was still fuming over the Frigidaire maneuver by that damned model, and he was in a sour mood.
As he walked out onto the terrace, which boasted a spectacular view of vineyards and olive groves in the Chianti hillside, he saw Luca and Larkin seated at the table, enjoying their morning cappuccinos. Damned happy lovebirds.
“Buon giorno, Alessandro,” Luca said in his best Italian. But the last thing Sandro wanted was for anyone to try to persuade him it was a good morning, because it was decidedly no such thing. So he merely gave a nod and sat down to wait for the maid to serve him his breakfast.
Luca and Larkin looked at each other.
“Well,” Luca said. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
“Shame,” Larkin said, “Because our bed was so comfy.” She winked at her fiancé.
Which was precisely the worst thing she could have said.
“Look.” Sandro’s brows knit in annoyance. “If the two of you are happily going at it all night long, well good for you. But you don’t need to rub it in.”
“Oh ho ho,” Luca said. “I guess I was right last night: you do need to get laid.”
If only he knew the half of it.
“I need nothing of the sort. I simply don’t want the likes of you two rubbing it in.”
“Better than you rubbing one out, you mean?” Luca said, chucking his cousin on the shoulder.
Just then Sandro heard heels on the stone terrace and looked up to see Taylor breezing in wearing a short, flowy light blue sundress that made her look downright angelic, dammit.
He took one look at her and quickly glanced away. He was going to pretend absolutely nothing had happened. Because, well, nothing was going to happen, so what sense was there in beating that dead horse? He’d only get grief from Luca, and if Luca mentioned it to Larkin, well, of course it would get right back to the ice princess, and that would only further humiliate him. And hell hath no fury like a scorned man with blue balls. Or something like that.
“Morning, everybody,” she said with a smile as Luca stood to pull out her chair for her to sit down. Right next to Sandro, because, well, why not?
She nodded to him. “Sandro. I trust you slept well.”
Ooooh, some nerve for her to dare suggest that in front of all of them.
He nodded back. “Ahhh... La principessa di ghiaccio.” He turned back to his phone where he remained glued while Luca and Larkin looked at each other, confusion on their faces at him calling her the ice princess.
“Everything okay, my friend?” Luca said.
“Magnificent,” he said, his arms wide and pointed to the sky. “Couldn’t be better. I mean after all, look at this day. I’m about to share my dream come true with the world. What could be wrong?”
He took a sip of his espresso, setting the cup down a little bit hard, nearly breaking the thing.
The maid came out and brought Taylor a spremuta—fresh-squeezed orange juice—along with her cappuccino.
“You sleep well, Tay?” Luca asked.
“My room was lovely, and the bed was divine,” she said. “I was up for a while in the middle of the night, but that’s to be expected.”
Sandro about spit his espresso all over the table on that one.
“Huh. I didn’t think you’d have a problem with jet lag since you’d just come from London,” Larkin said. “Only an hour’s difference.”
Taylor sighed. “I guess sometimes that’s all it takes to wake with a start in the middle of the night.”
“My apologies,” Sandro said through gritted teeth. “I had hoped to make your stay as comfortable as possible. Perhaps I didn’t do enough in that regard?”
He looked up at Taylor, who stared deep into her cappuccino as if there were some hidden message at the bottom of her cup. Again, Luca and Larkin glanced at each other, their brows knit.
“Uh, is there something we’re missing out on?” Luca said, taking a bite of his cornetto pastry.
“What are you talking about?” Sandro said, shredding into his own cornetto alla marmellata as if it were his life’s mission. And of course a blob of jam fell from it onto his shirt. As much as he didn’t want to discuss the matter, the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to see Taylor squirm a bit. “I was sound asleep. You’ll have to ask Taylor, because evidently she’s the one with sleep issues.”
Taylor threw him enough shade to block out the morning sun.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why everyone’s making a big deal of this. I slept fine.”
“See, Luca,” Larkin said. “She’s fine.” She looked over at her friend as if to a
sk if that was true, but Taylor continued to not make eye contact with anyone.
“So what’s on the agenda today?” Luca said, turning to Sandro. “Anything we can do to help in preparation for tomorrow night?”
He shook his head. “I think it’s all on me now. My brothers will be helping with the final touches as well, but I’m in charge, so I’ve got to take care of the details.”
“In that case, if you’re good with us enjoying the pool, I think it’s calling our name,” Luca said, looking down to the infinity pool below.
“By all means,” Sandro said with a sweep of his hands. “What’s mine is yours.” He looked long and hard at Taylor, trying to send a message to her, but she only averted her gaze. Of course, he wasn’t sure what that message was because if last night taught him anything, it was not to get involved with women with issues. Make that women, period. And certainly women who would probably cut off your left nut if given the chance. He wanted to keep those where they were, thanks, and also couldn’t afford to be left standing high and dry like that again, so he’d just avoid Taylor McFarland altogether.
Chapter Eleven
The temperature was perfect—unusually comfortable for late June in Tuscany. Taylor, Larkin, and Luca lounged by the pool, the two women chatting and gossiping while Luca sifted through paperwork for upcoming appearances he had for the royal family.
The infinity pool appeared to crest over the edge to the countryside below. The view was breathtaking: fields and fields of ripening grapes and groves of ancient, gnarled olive trees. The sky was one of those pristine bluebird blues, the type so invitingly pure you just want to stare at it endlessly.
The pool was surrounded by butterfly bushes and beds of purple, pink, and yellow flowers. Butterflies and bees flitted in and out amidst the lavender and rosemary that grew along one wall.
“You mind handing me that sunscreen, Tay?” Larkin said. “By the way, it looks like you’re starting to burn. You might want to put some more on yourself.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” she said. “I’ll take care of that after you and Luca take a turn with it.”
“I appreciate it, Taylor, but I’m good,” Luca said. “I’ve got that Mediterranean blood, so I don’t burn so easily. Must be the Italian in me from my father’s side.”
“It’s what makes them so darned sexy,” Larkin said as she leaned over to kiss Luca. “Those blue eyes and white teeth set against that deep, beautiful tan... Irresistible.”
Taylor laughed because at first Luca had been anything but irresistible to Larkin. The woman had avoided him like the plague when she first met him while covering Milan’s Fashion Week.
“Funny how you’ve changed your tune about him,” she whispered to her friend.
“Speaking of changing tunes,” Larkin said. “That was really strange at breakfast between you and Sandro. Did something happen last night after we went to our room?” She opened the bottle of sunscreen and squeezed a thin band of it along her leg and proceeded to massage it in.
Taylor feigned ignorance. “Gosh, Lark, I just went to bed. I don’t know what you think would have happened.”
“It’s just that the two of you seemed to have some weird undercurrent of unspoken words going on there this morning,” she said. “I mean on the one hand Luca and I would have loved for you and Sandro to hit it off, but last night it sure seemed like the two of you weren’t exactly destined for a date, let alone a future together.
“So sure, of course you two would be weird together this morning. After all, that’s how it was before we went to bed. I guess I’d hoped that maybe it was just late, everyone was tired, and things would be better in the morning.”
Taylor was thrilled that her friend had talked herself out of the very argument she was uncertain how to defend against. The last thing she wanted was to get those two involved in her stupid mistake. Best that no one know about what had gone on between her and Sandro, which would keep things from becoming even more awkward anyhow.
~*~
Sandro had been back and forth across huge swaths of the property what seemed like several times over the course of the past few hours. At first he’d wanted to walk, despite the distances, just to help get his head on straight. He could always clear his mind with some vigorous exercise, and he really needed to empty his brain of any of that nonsense from last night. But now he was tired and hungry and regretting he hadn’t taken the Piaggio Ape, a small utility vehicle with three wheels often found throughout Italy. Sort of like a Vespa with a flatbed on the back. It was the easiest way to maneuver along steep and narrow paths in the vineyards and often the simplest thing with which to haul supplies. Right now he wished he had an Ape nearby so he could attempt to curl up in the flatbed and take a nap.
If he couldn’t satisfy his fatigue, at least he could slake his need to cool down with a quick dip in the pool. He stripped off his shirt while he crested the hillside. As he turned the corner approaching the pool though, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Taylor applying sunscreen to that pretty-darned-perfect body of hers. It was the damnedest thing that a person slathering on sunscreen could be arousing, but she was. At least right here, right now, as she stroked her hands up her endlessly long legs, then massaged lotion onto her flat stomach, next slipping her fingers beneath her skimpy top to make sure she didn’t burn along the edges of her very tiny hot-pink bikini.
Mamma mia, that woman was going to be the death of him.
Sandro had just decided to wait till the now semipermanent bulge in his pants calmed down before making an appearance at the pool when Luca spotted him.
“Sandro,” Luca said, waving him over. “Andiamo. Let’s go! We were just about to take a dip.”
“You go ahead without me,” Sandro said. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have to get my suit on.”
“Don’t worry about formalities,” Luca said. “We’re all friends here. I’m sure whatever you’ve got on under your jeans is pretty much what your suit would be like anyhow. Just take your pants off and get over here.”
Sandro shrugged his shoulders, resigned to the inevitable. “Fine. Give me a minute.”
Larkin and Luca both got up and walked to the edge of the pool, but Taylor remained on the chaise longue. She was taking a swig of her water, and Sandro wanted nothing more than to grab that body and slowly drip the water along her glistening flesh. And then maybe lick it off. Except that he didn’t want to do that! Hell no! He was steering so clear of that woman he would practically be on the other side of the country from her. Except that now he had to get in the pool. With any luck she’d stay seated, so at least he’d not have her too close to him, taunting him with her mere presence.
With the bulge finally settled down enough, Sandro maneuvered around the landscaping and entered the pool along a stone path. He approached a chair on the other side of the pool from Taylor, as far away as could be, untied his boots and toed them off, removed his socks, then pulled down his jeans. His briefs today were sky blue, but that was about the only difference in them. In fact, what both he and Taylor had on too closely replicated their sleepwear from the night before, only Taylor’s was even more revealing. He vowed to not look, just to be sure temptation didn’t get the best of him.
“Come in,” Larkin said. “The water feels great!” She splashed Sandro enough for him to realize that his briefs became a bit see-through when wet. Well, good, he thought. Give her a little taste of what she missed out on. With renewed confidence, Sandro strolled to the side of the pool, stretched his arms, loosened up his tight lower back, and then dove in, creating quite a splash.
“Thanks for that,” Taylor said with a frown as she held up her magazine, dripping water from Sandro’s wall of water.
“Put it down, it’ll dry out,” Larkin said. “And get your butt in here!”
Sandro wondered if she was doing the same thing as him, keeping her distance, playing it safe. But finally after enough haranguing from the other two, Taylor got up, secured
the two thin straps of her bikini behind her neck, then threw her head back to straighten out her hair, or whatever it was women did that for. Dramatic effect? Who the hell knew. But it looked hot, which was unfortunate, because that nagging little appendage of his instantly responded. Which got even worse when she stood on the edge of the pool, her long, lithe body on display, her breasts just barely covered by two meager patches and her bikini bottoms a mere thong, leaving little to his vivid and undersatisfied imagination.
He wondered for a minute what it would be like to just grab her, pull her into the water, and wrap her legs around his waist. Would that be such a bad thing?
Hell yes, it would be a terrible thing. So terrible. But even more terrible was that just as Taylor was about to dive in, those skimpy strings that held her top up slipped loose, and for a fleeting handful of seconds, Sandro got his fill of two of the most beautiful breasts he’d seen in ages. And he could tell by the near evenness of the skin tone across her chest that “bathing suit top optional” was likely her preferred means of sunbathing. And only here did she deem it important to cover herself up.
God, he was doomed.
Chapter Twelve
The two of them could not have kept a farther distance from each other in the pool. It was like a seventh grade dance with the boys on one side, the girls on the other. Complete with Luca and Larkin pawing at each other in the middle, just like you’d have had with the golden couple in the darkest corner of the school gymnasium. And of course there was Taylor, having just flashed her boobs in front of the opposition’s eyeballs, wanting to shrink into the background, only there was no place to shrivel away to. Ugh.
This weekend was clearly going to test her stamina in resisting that man, and it sure didn’t help that he looked so damned hot in his briefs yet again. So hot it made her wonder what was wrong with her for having pulled the plug on things earlier this morning. Because right now, ay, ay, ay, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes off his gorgeous body. She simply had to resolve to just move on, pretend whatever had gone on hadn’t really happened. How else would she get through swimming half-naked with the man in the same body of water?
Red Hot Romeo (The Royal Romeos, #1) Page 5