Is he talking about me? And what exactly doesShe’ll like you toomean? I’m torn between involving myself and giving Luca a questioning look, or pretending that I’m not here, even though I’m listening in to his conversation like a Cold War spy.
Luca looks down at me, gauging my reaction to his comment, so I send him a sultry, intrigued look.
“Not yet, but I’ll find out. Looks promising.”
Silence.
“Really? Good.”
Silence.
“I’ll let our beautiful VIP Manager know to expect you by two.” Luca studies me, then tells his friend, “Bye.” He tosses his cell to the bed, the sheets rumpled. “They’re setting off earlier because of the heavy snow predictions, but I guess you heard the new arrival time.”
“Yes. Thanks for the heads up.” I sound distracted, maybe anxious, because Luca curls a finger under my chin and angles my face up towards his. “Any regrets?”
I shake my head. “None at all.”
“Good. And don’t worry about what’s going on with us in front of the boys. They won’t care. And we’re not high-maintenance men; you can treat us as your friends. We don’t expect you to serve us all night.” He pauses that damned hitched smile appearing, the one that brings a heaviness to my core. “Unless you want to make it interesting?”
Wait.What?
His masterful lips close over mine before my question can escape, and then he’s picking me up and carrying me outside to the hot tub. It’s shockingly cold, his gaze running over my exposed body and my diamond-hard nipples as he parks my ass on the edge.
Gasping with the shock of the snow-dusted cover, Luca removes the lid as I try and get in the water as quickly as possible. He follows me a second later, both of us humming at the delicious heat that engulfs us. The snow is so heavy, and the air so perfectly, faultlessly still, you can hear each flake land. They brush my shoulders and fall in my hair, little sparks of cold.
“C’mere,” Luca instructs softly, pulling me toward him and settling me sideways across his lap. My arm curls around his neck as I drop my shoulders under the water, trying to get warm, trying to give him less of a show of my buoyant tits.
For a long while, we remain in the water, enjoying the bubbles and lights as we make out, a lot. Time drifts by as he tastes my mouth with slow, drugging kisses, his lips firm and soft against mine. And his tongue is silken, hot, and intoxicating as it licks along my lips and tangles with mine. My hands grasp his hair, his shoulders, as I writhe in his lap. I’ve turned so that I’m facing him now, my legs spread either side of him, my breasts rubbing against his firm chest. Without voicing it, I understand there won’t be a third time tonight. But considering how relaxed I feel, how my body hums and sings pushed up against his, I don’t need more.
“You should know that I’m not getting out to find the towels,” I say, noticing my wrinkled, prune fingers.
I feel his smile against my neck as we drink in the city lights. “I’ll get them. I planned poorly, so it’s only fair.”
I chuckle. “I’m all for impromptu moments like these.”
“Next time, I won’t be stopping at twice.”
I arch a brow. “No?”
“You seem to have a habit of distracting me.”
Oh. I like distracting him. “Sounds like you need to focus more. Forgetting things, getting side-tracked…”
His chuckle is deep and low. “That’s normally my MO, but with you in my bed and on my cock, I plan to make the most of that time. But it’s our first night, and I didn’t want to fuck you sore.”
My voice falters. “I-I can handle you.”
A sinful-edged smile. “You can handle more, can you?”
I nod, shrugging at the same time like this is not a problem he needs to be concerned about.
“Good.”
A few minutes later, when we’re dry and dressed, Luca tells me, “Let’s get some food, and then I need to work if the others are arriving early.”
I telephone our order through to the kitchen as indie music plays through the integrated system. A bottle of impeccable red wine is open, both of us on a second glass. Feeling sleepy and worn-out from my evening, despite my bravado at saying I can handle more, it makes me wonder what it’ll be like when he takes me three times. Four.
Snapping me out of my dirty thoughts, I’m asked, “Those guests you got involved with at WM—did you see them again?”