Dirty Lies

by Lush, Tamara

  I ordered a sangria and focused on the conversation. Megan was a little drunk and railed against the paper's new edict for shorter, tighter articles, tossing her shoulder-length curly hair as she spoke.

  "I am, like, never going to get anywhere if I can't write more than a six hundred word story. What the hell is that? It's bad enough I had to write a feature about the rainfall totals for July and then about a billiards tournament at the senior center. I should be covering New York Fashion Week."

  Everyone laughed. Being a twenty-something journalist on a Florida island filled with mostly retirees definitely had its challenges. This was not the glamorous profession we'd anticipated while in journalism school.

  "O-M-G. Oh my God." Megan's eyes moved from left to right as she leaned in to whisper to the group. "Right behind Skylar. Gorgeous guy. Holy shit. Sky, you're the only one who can't see him, but don't turn around, it will be too obvious. Especially since Kira is drooling in her wine."

  Kira snorted. "Whatever, bitch."

  "Megan, I thought you were dating Daniel from advertising?" I said, amused as I sipped my drink.

  Megan sat back, her eyes focused behind me the entire time. "I am, but I can still admire and look for someone for the rest of you ladies. Sky, just get up and go to the bathroom. He's at the bar. He's got on jeans—oh wow, what an ass! And a black T-shirt. A slightly tight, black T-shirt skimming his broad, strapping chest. Short dark hair, smoldering eyes… Shit, I need to stop reading those romance novels. Oh God, he just turned around and looked at us."

  Megan averted her gaze and buried her face in a menu. I chortled.

  "Sky, go check him out. He's super hot," Rebecca said.

  Okay, I'd play along. Just for laughs. After Luca, I didn't think Brad Pitt, George Clooney or Ryan Gosling would impress me if they were standing at the bar.

  Sending a snarky eye-roll to my friends, I rose and turned.

  Oh my God.

  Luca?

  I caught my breath and tried not to look shocked. Tried not to gasp out loud.

  His lips held a secret smile as our eyes met for a quick second. I was wearing my tall black heels causing me to wobble slightly. My fingers found the back of the chair and squeezed, seeking some stability so I wouldn't fall over. Luca glanced again at me, then scanned the bar, still smiling in that mysterious way.

  What is going on?

  "See, I told you. He's so hot, you can't even stand up," Megan hissed from behind the menu. "Jesus, was he looking at you?"

  What was he doing here? Teasing me? Checking up on me?

  I turned to the group and attempted a smirk. "No. He was not looking at me. But I have to go to the bathroom anyway. I'll scope him out."

  I walked slowly by a few tables, then past Luca. He looked like a model tonight, something out of the pages of Italian Vogue. Dark and dangerous, and so fucking hot. I noticed several women staring at him. Practically drooling. Not that I could blame them.

  But why was he even here, with a beer in front of him? He'd said he didn't feel comfortable in bars.

  From where he was situated, I knew he could see me walk down the long hall to the bathroom at the side of the restaurant. I went inside and locked the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Like Watching A Movie

  ANNALISA

  "Miss. Miss. The bathroom's down the hall. This is the kitchen."

  I peeked between the crack of the double swinging doors and ignored the stupid cook.

  I'd followed Skylar to Bacchus, where the American met her gaggle of poorly-dressed American girlfriends.

  What I hadn't anticipated was Luca walking in looking like a Roman warrior, primal and commanding.

  I'd barely escaped being seen by him. Thankfully, the place was crowded, and I'd taken a seat near the kitchen so I could scramble in when he walked toward the bar.

  Then again, he would have never noticed me, because he hadn't taken his eyes off that awful woman.

  "I'm sorry, you can't be in here."

  The cook touched my arm, and I shrugged it off with an impatient grunt.

  "Is there a door to the parking lot from the kitchen?" I didn't look at the cook as I spoke.

  "Yes, it's right this way."

  I couldn't tear my eyes away from Luca's gorgeous face. With rising anger, I saw his gaze follow Skylar walking past, and then watched him leave his seat at the bar. My blood rushed through my veins so fast, I could hear it in my ears.

  Never had he looked at me the way he stared at Skylar. His eyes were wide and hungry, filled with desire—and something so very obvious, hot tears pricked my eyes. He looked at Skylar with pure adoration.

  Luca looked like a desperate man, drunk with love. If I were watching them in a movie, I would have sighed and swooned.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Please

  SKYLAR

  There was a knock at the bathroom door.

  "Sky," a male voice said softly.

  With a racing heart, I flung open the door, allowing Luca to slip inside, locking it behind him while I stared in surprise

  His lips were slanted in a sexy smirk. Before I could speak, Luca pressed me against a wall painted with a mural of green parrots flying over a vineyard. His body was heavy, insistent, and his heat seeped into my every pore.

  His lips were fierce and urgent, as he gripped the side of my neck with his hand tighter than ever, and kissed me violently. Tonight, he smelled different, faintly of spice and wood.

  "Sky, I can't get you out of my head," he whispered into my ear. "I thought about you nonstop while I was in Miami."

  Holy crap, his accent…

  He plundered my mouth, and I greedily accepted it, wanting more of his sweet taste.

  Luca's other hand wound its way up my dress, and his fingers raked over the thin fabric of my black cotton panties.

  I turned my head so he could claim my neck with his mouth, trying not to gasp out loud as he stroked me with a delicate and tantalizing touch. My clit throbbed, and I wanted him touch me, to slide his hand to the perfect spot.

  But when I tried to move his hand into my panties, he resisted.

  "Please," I whispered, feeling out of control and desperate. "Please?"

  Luca shook his head and kept teasing me, brushing his fingers over me with a feather-light touch as he inhaled my neck with ferocity. I pressed my face into his shoulder, biting him was the only way I could keep from crying out loud from pleasure.

  And frustration.

  Why was he doing this to me here? Did I even care why? I grabbed his head and pulled his lips close, wanting to consume him.

  He whispered something in Italian in a raw, low voice.

  I rubbed the heel of my hand over his jeans, feeling his hard length under the rough denim. When I folded my arms around his neck, he took his hand from between my legs.

  Grinding his hips into mine, I felt only white-hot need as we rocked our bodies together. All I wanted was release.

  "Luca…" I gasped, barely able to form words through my thin breaths. "Oh, fuck, Luca."

  His lips grazed my neck and rested just underneath my earlobe. It was a good thing he had pinned me to the wall, otherwise I would have crumpled to the floor when he again whispered in my ear with that accent.

  "I have actually, physically craved you. It's as if I need you to live, like air or water or food. Ti desidero."

  Abruptly, he stopped.

  He was grinning. Licking the corner of his mouth, he leaned in for a soft kiss.. I panted and was about to ask him what he was doing when he kissed me again.

  "See you tomorrow night at yoga," he whispered in my ear. Then he walked out of the bathroom. Before the door could close, I watched him enter the men's room across the hall.

  I was flushed and flustered. My hair was wild. My entire body trembled, and between my legs, I was a wet, slippery mess.

  Leaning back on the wall, I tried to catch my breath. Being this intensely sexual was so foreign to me. Ne
ver had I felt this with James…or anyone. Luca made me want to unleash every sexual fantasy I had.

  Lately, I had lots of them. Tonight would go on the list.

  This all-consuming need pushed me to the edge of my comfort zone, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't enjoying it. I was.

  Maybe too much.

  I slicked my hair back into a ponytail and put on some red lipstick, hoping to hide the freshly kissed look. Soaping my hands, I ran my wrists under cool water for a long time, hoping the scorching feeling inside me would go away.

  Would my friends suspect what happened?

  My heart beating double-time, I walked out past the bar and Luca. He tipped his beer to his mouth and caught my eye as he did, but I only allowed that for a second. I didn't want to stare at him because my face would flush even more.

  What kind of game was he playing?

  I was so turned on, it almost terrified me. Since James, my only real relationship, I aimed for order and predictability, not frenzied groping in bathrooms. Wasn’t this exactly what I was looking for? Wasn't this what Emily had suggested, and wasn't it the exact reason I'd demanded Luca be with me exclusively?

  When I returned to the table, my coworkers were immersed in an absurd conversation and barely noticed as I sat.

  "I am not covering a feature story about the nudist trailer park in Fort Myers. I don't care how much Jill wants me to. I'm not wasting my time on that," said Megan.

  "All of the people you don't want to see naked are at the nudist resorts," Kira agreed, her tone matter-of-fact.

  "So gross," Megan said before looking at me. "Hey, did you run into Mr. Fuckable on your way to the bathroom? We saw him go down that hall right after you."

  "Oh, no. I didn't." I shook my head and hoped the red in my cheeks had receded.

  I picked up the wine list and pretended to read. Touching my chin with my index finger, I wondered if Luca's stubble had left a mark, because my skin felt raw. My lips felt raw too. In fact, my entire soul felt hypersensitive and rubbed bare.

  "Suuure," said Kira. "It was probably like that scene at the coffee shop in the movie Unfaithful."

  I shot her a confused look over the top of the menu. Kira was always talking about movies. She wrote unpaid film reviews for the paper in hopes of someday becoming a critic.

  "Did you see that movie? Diane What's-her-name and that handsome French actor? He slips into the coffee shop and screws her senseless as her friends are sitting there unaware. It was so hot."

  I shrugged and took a gulp of sangria. Out the corner of my eye I watched Luca toss a few bills on the bar then stride away without giving me a glance.

  "Nope. Must have missed that one, Kira."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Cuts Like A Knife

  ANNALISA

  I stood before the glass case in the dive shop, carefully considering my choices.

  Should I pick the Survival Series Ultimate Knife or the one called the Halcyon, which was a fine name for a blade? The gleaming weapons lined the case, each with their own special charm. I almost wanted the camouflage-handled one. It seemed so American.

  "That one." I pointed to the corner of the shelf. "That's the one I'd like to get my boyfriend for his birthday. He dives a lot and needs a new scuba knife. He mentioned this to me last week."

  The clerk extracted a shiny silver knife and droned on about the features. Scalloped edges that made it easier to hold. Something called a skeletonized handle, which meant it had holes in case I wanted to slip my fingers into them for a firmer grip. A stainless-steel blade, a spear-point, a serrated edge and a straight edge.

  Turning it over in my hands, I smiled as I wondered what it would feel like to cut skin with the steel. The blade caught the light of an overhead lamp, and it practically winked at me.

  "I'll take it."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Too Intimate

  LUCA

  I was used to risk.

  Traveling alone, I took plenty of risks, all calculated, all planned. Since my parents were killed, I hadn't taken a risk for a woman. Hell, I hadn't risked anything for a woman before the mess with the book. Hadn't ever wanted to. The decision had always been simple. Black-and-white. No-strings sex. Relationships weren't worth the trouble.

  Until here, on Palmira. Skylar was a living, breathing gray area. A sexy risk. Spending time in her presence was a risk. Going to the Bacchus bar to see her was a risk. And now I was at a yoga class, bending and twisting my body so I could be near her. My gun was in the glove box of the car.

  Another risk.

  Palmira seemed so safe, though. Maybe none of this was risky. Maybe all of it was. Maybe the biggest risk was to my goddamn heart, because I was willing to go out of my comfort zone for one person—a person who had no idea what I really was.

  For the first time in forever, I was allowing myself to feel something for another person. It sent thrilling shivers through my body when I looked at her, and also deep waves of fear.

  She could get hurt because of me.

  I'd been edgy since kissing and touching Skylar at the bar the previous night. God, I'd wanted to take her right there against the wall of that bathroom.

  But I didn't want to risk being in public for longer than necessary. I'd only gone to the bar to see who Skylar was with, and my stomach finally settled when I realized she was there with female coworkers and not a date—or with someone even more sinister. It was almost shameful to admit, but I'd needed to see with my own eyes that she wasn't betraying me to the Mafia—or betraying me with another man.

  I wasn't sure which would be worse.

  Something about finding out that my uncle was really my father had made me even more paranoid about the people in my life. Who could I trust? My own mother had lied to me, and that was the worst fact of all.

  The more one knows, the less one believes.

  Now the tattoo on my arm was truly my personal, ironic motto, mocking me every time I glanced in the mirror.

  After spending two emotional days talking to my uncle in Miami, I'd concluded that I might never have any real answers about my mother, about why she'd never revealed who my real father was.

  "Just remember that she loved you," Federico said several times.

  Now that I was back on Palmira, I was still troubled. Everything was off-kilter, like the world had subtly shifted off its axis and only I noticed.

  I looked over at Skylar, who lifted her hands above her head. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was turned up in a smile, and she looked blissful. She always looked blissful, and that soothed some of my angst. I felt guilty for being so distrustful of her, yet discovering her truthfulness had endeared her even more to me. Add to that her sharp mind, her sexy laugh, her sweet lips, and I was totally distracted.

  So here I was. At yoga. Trying to forget about everything except Skylar.

  A risk.

  Our mats were side by side in the crowded class and we stole glances at each other. Grinned like fools.

  The teacher lit sandalwood incense and candles flickered in the dark. The class was called Zen Flow, and the poses were languid, sensual. Slow chant music played, and I tried to concentrate on being mindful and not on Skylar's body. To stay in the moment, to not think about my problems. Or my imminent hard-on.

  Lust wasn't mindful.

  I hadn't told Skylar that I'd spent three months at a yoga ashram in India. That was the first place I went after leaving Italy, figuring it was easy to hide amongst hippie backpackers and new age truth seekers.

  I was pondering how to explain my yoga knowledge—and trying to take my mind off my dick—when I caught a glimpse of her in a pose. She was on her back and holding her feet with her hands, knees bent deep toward her armpits in what the teacher called happy baby pose.

  More like happy Luca pose. Maybe she'd recreate that contortion for me naked.

  "Okay, class, partner up," the teacher said.

  I turned to Skylar, grinning.

&nb
sp; I felt the eyes of several women, but grabbed Skylar's wrist and pulled her toward me. "You're my partner, no?"

  She giggled softly.

  The teacher had us stand close, back-to-chest. I was in back of Skylar, and following the teacher's instruction I placed my hand in the middle of her spine to feel her breath. I slightly tilted my hips toward her ass so she could feel the stirrings of my erection. It was a good thing my shorts were super baggy.

  "I can feel your breath. Can you feel something of mine?" I whispered in her ear.

  I watched her in the mirror as she grew wide-eyed. We switched positions so Skylar was behind me, and she scratched my back softly through my shirt, which sent pleasurable little shivers through me.

  I entertained a brief fantasy of leaving class and having sex in the car. I nearly groaned out loud from the thought. If only she would let me. It both surprised and mystified me that we still hadn't had sex, and that I was even more interested in her now than when I first met her.

  The teacher had us sit on the floor cross-legged and facing each other.

  "Now, raise your hands to shoulder level, palms facing your partners, and press your hands into your partner's hands. Look each other in the eyes and breathe. Try to coordinate your breath with your partner. In Sanskrit, yoga means yoke, or union. The most important thing we can do is be in a union, be one with someone else. We're all in this life together. Let's be together and live in the present."

  A twinge of anxiety rose in my chest. This was too intimate—more intimate than sex. Skylar's bottom lip trembled, so maybe she was nervous too. And yet, I didn't separate from her gaze or her hands. She didn't break from mine, either. Her mouth parted and softened in the candlelight.

  The teacher spoke again in a quiet voice. "I'm going to read some lines by the thirteenth-century Sufi poet, Rumi, then we'll gaze at each other's auras in silence."