Hot Mess (Messy Love Series Book 1)

by R. Linda

  “You don’t get nervous.”

  “Photoshoots, paparazzi, catwalks are nothing compared to the butterflies you give me every time you smile.”

  Her eyebrows pulled together in disbelief.

  “Don’t think. Okay?” I slid my mouth across hers. “Close your eyes and just feel.”

  “Feel?” she whispered.

  “Feel,” I repeated and pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “My lips.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed, so I kissed down her chest, over the swell of her breasts.

  “My hands,” I breathed and brought them to her chest, squeezing, massaging as my lips dragged down over her ribs. Her fingers threaded through my hair. “My tongue.” I licked the soft skin of her stomach. She gasped and tugged on my hair sending pleasure shots of pain through my body.

  I reacted to her like no other. I wanted to throw her on the bed and bury myself deep inside her, but she deserved more. She deserved to be cherished, one breath, one touch, one kiss at a time.

  And that was exactly what I intended to do.

  Wren

  HE DROPPED TO his knees in front of me, and my breath caught in my throat. He was so handsome. So sexy. The bastard smirked up at me and peeled my thong down my legs until I was standing there in nothing but my fuzzy socks.

  “I fucking love these socks,” he whispered as he pressed kisses down my thighs. The towel he was wearing separated over his strong thighs. “But they have to go,” he said before pushing me back onto the bed gently.

  I hadn’t thought this through. When I knocked on his door, I planned to just do a little twirl to show him my shirt and then go back to my room. But then he looked at me liked he wanted to devour me, and I couldn’t walk away.

  I risked bruising my ego and walking away completely humiliated on a whim, and now suddenly here we were. Tate on his knees in front of me. I didn’t know what to think of that. Or how I felt about it. I only knew that I liked it.

  I liked the way his eyes burned into mine. The way his hands and lips and tongue seared my flesh, branding me with his touch.

  His confession that he’d been watching me for months rocked me. I never knew. I was equal parts embarrassed at all the stupid stuff he would have seen me do, and turned on knowing that even though he’d witnessed what was likely my least graceful moments, he was still here. He still wanted to reassure me. To cherish me. To… whoa!

  Where did my socks go? And when did he move there?

  I panicked. No one had ever been down there before. It was too intimate.

  Embarrassing.

  Instinct took over and self-preservation kicked in. Fight or flight. There was no way I could run. Not when my legs were melting. My insides liquifying. Fight. I had to fight. I couldn’t voice the words I needed to get him to stop, so I squeezed my legs shut…

  And trapped him there.

  His face pressed against my center.

  Oh, my god.

  How mortifying.

  He tapped my thighs. “Wanna loosen your grip a little?” Tate chuckled, his voice thick and husky as it vibrated against my core.

  And then he did the thing.

  With his tongue.

  I squealed.

  Then I moaned.

  My eyes rolled back.

  My toes curled.

  And I no longer cared that his face was between my legs. I just didn’t want him to stop. My fingers gripped his hair and held him there until I saw stars. Fireworks. Until my body was mush, boneless and my skin was covered in goose bumps.

  Tate climbed back up my body, a satisfied smirk on his face.

  “Proud of yourself, huh?” I asked.

  He shrugged, and pressing a kiss to my collarbone said, “I’m allowed to be proud of a job well done.”

  I scoffed and challenged, “How do you know I wasn’t faking?”

  “You couldn’t fake that.” His hands skimmed along my side and slid into my hair.

  “I could have.” I felt the need to argue with him.

  He shook his head. “You said fuck,” he whispered. His voice low, gravelly and the way he said fuck was sinful. I didn’t say it. There was no way.

  “I did not.”

  He chuckled and nipped at my skin. “Right before you moaned my name.”

  “You’re that confident in your abilities?”

  “You tell me?” he said and lowered his mouth to cover my breast. My traitorous body arched into him. “See?”

  “I didn’t swear though.”

  “You will. I promise.” He moved to the other before trailing kisses back up my sternum. His teeth bit into my neck and he pulled my earlobe into his mouth. Chills broke out over my body, and I dragged my hands down his sides before bringing them around his back and pulling him into me.

  “Wren,” he groaned into my ear and then captured my lips with his, his tongue sweeping in and dominating my mouth.

  My hands caressed his skin, feeling every muscle, every dip and crevice in his body until they came in contact with the towel that was miraculously still wrapped around his waist. My fingers fumbled, trying to grip the edge and rip it off.

  Tate stood up and walked over to his suitcase where he rummaged through. I pushed up onto my elbows and watched as his shoulders slumped and head hung low.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  He rose to his feet and closed his eyes. “What are the chances you came prepared?”

  “What, like a boy scout?” I laughed.

  He winced. “Like a fucking condom.”

  “Oh.” I dropped my gaze, and Tate sighed taking that as a no. “Umm… Well, I mean, I’m on the pill?”

  “Is that a question or are you telling me?”

  “I’m telling you. And I’ve never not… You know?” I made a circle with my thumb and forefinger on one hand and then poked the forefinger on my other hand through the hole I made.

  Tate bit the side of his cheek to stop laughing but failed. He laughed hard.

  “Glad you find me amusing.”

  “I’m sorry. But that was hilarious. Are you trying to tell me you’ve never fucked anyone without a condom before?”

  My mouth dropped open. “You make it sound so crass.”

  “Wren?”

  I shook my head. My heart pounded in my chest and started a war with the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach. “Never.”

  “Me neither,” Tate said and dropped his towel to the floor.

  I licked my lips.

  Forgot how to breathe. How to blink. How to do anything but stare at the man gloriously naked in front of me.

  Adonis had nothing on him.

  “You’re drooling,” Tate teased, and I reached up and wiped my mouth.

  “Am not.”

  He crossed the room and leaned down over me, placing his hands on the mattress beside me and pressing a wet, hot kiss to my mouth. Lifting a knee, he nudged my legs open and settled between them.

  Holy moly he was hard. Firm. Smooth. Everywhere.

  I snorted and my thoughts drifted back to earlier when we were both groomed for our photoshoot.

  “Something funny?” he bit my bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth.

  I moaned.

  “Nope. Nothing at all.”

  Tate’s hand gripped my thigh, bringing it up around his back. He pushed his hips forward, filling me completely.

  Tate hissed out a breath. I groaned.

  “So fucking good,” he whispered against my lips before reaching for both my hands and bringing them up beside my head. Linking our fingers, he pressed my hands into the mattress and kissed me long and hard until I couldn’t catch my breath.

  My hips moved with his, both of us fighting for dominance. Power. Until I couldn’t anymore. All I could do was feel. My nerves were alight. My skin tingled everywhere our bodies touched.

  My heart swelled and filled with emotion when Tate locked eyes with me. He held my gaze with such intensity that it scared me. I gripped his hands tighter
and prayed I survived the aftermath, because there was no turning back after this.

  Tate

  I HAD SO many plans for our last day in Florence. I wanted to take Wren sightseeing and sip Italian wine in the sun. But none of that happened.

  Was I disappointed?

  Hell fucking no.

  We didn’t leave my bed, except to get Wren food. She worked up quite an appetite.

  Instead of exploring Florence, we explored each other’s bodies until we were well acquainted with every freckle, dimple, line and hair. Instead of sipping wine under the sun, we got drunk on each other.

  A mass of naked limbs, soft moans, touching hands, sweet lips.

  As promised, I made Wren swear. Over and over.

  I finished packing my suitcase and wheeled it over to Wren’s room to see if she was ready.

  She’d snuck out of my bed early this morning to shower and pack, and it took all my self-control not to drag her into the shower with me.

  Wren greeted me in a pair of pizza leggings, and a gray sweatshirt. Her hair was piled on her head in a messy bun. Her eyes were dark, with bags under them, and her lips puffy from too many kisses. And she’d never looked better, except maybe when she was naked under me.

  “Ready?” I asked and received a scowl in response.

  I chuckled and walked over to her bed where her suitcase was laying, over-flowing once again with clothes, and zipped it up.

  “Thank you.” She gave me a sarcastic smile and yawned.

  “I have one more surprise for you before we go home,” I said, dragging both our cases to the elevator.

  “If it’s joining the mile-high club, you better get me liquored up first,” she said and leaned her head on my chest. My hand came to rest on the nape of her neck and I chuckled into her hair.

  “No, that’s not it. But don’t tempt me.”

  We got the lift downstairs, and I checked us out before wheeling our cases out the front to the waiting driver. Opening the door for Wren, I climbed in beside her. She snuggled against my arm, her hand on my thigh, not even mentioning that it was a limo this time instead of a town car.

  The driver got in and started the engine.

  ‘Rome, James,” I called to the driver. He saluted me in the mirror before raising the privacy glass.

  “How do you know his name is James?” Wren asked, stumping me for a moment.

  I licked my lips and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t.”

  “Then don’t you think he might get offended that you got his name wrong?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because his name is Stefano. And Rome James is a play on words.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve never heard the saying Home, James?”

  She shook her head. “Well, it’s a saying, but I switched it to Rome James.”

  “Oh, because we’re in Italy.” She chuckled. “Very clever.” She patted my chest in a patronizing way.

  “No. Well, yes. But mostly because we’re going to Rome.”

  Wren sat up so fast she almost headbutted me. “We are?”

  “How else are you going to get a selfie with the pope?”

  Her eyes lit up and she smashed her lips against mine, sweeping in with her tongue and taking all my self-control. I gripped her hips and pulled her onto my lap.

  I’d never get enough of her.

  The way her body fit mine. The little noises she made. The way she kissed. Her taste. Her touch. Her smile.

  ROME WAS… Well, it was hot and busy and dirty. Really fucking dirty. The streets were lined with rubbish. It was gross. I wanted a shower the moment we got out of the car, but I guessed that’s what happens when millions of tourists wandered through those streets every year.

  Our driver had dropped us at our hotel, and Wren practically ran up to the room to dump her luggage, barely stopping to change into a pair of shorts before dragging me out onto the street.

  “Come on, the pope is waiting.” She linked her fingers with mine and dragged me down the street. I laughed and pulled her to a stop. She swung our hands between us and leaned in.

  “I bought us tickets to check out the Vatican on Wednesday,” I told her.

  “And the Sistine Chapel?” Her eyes sparkled and she couldn’t hide the excited, hopeful smile.

  I lowered my eyes and tried to sound apologetic, “I knew there was something I forgot.”

  “Oh.” Wren shrugged and her smile fell. Her voice soft and disappointed, she said, “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course we’re going to the Sistine Chapel. Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

  She grinned and pressed a kiss to my lips. “So, what now then?”

  “There is so much to see. But,” I looked at my watch, “Are you hungry?”

  “Are you buying me pizza?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I’m hungry.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I turned Wren in the opposite direction, and she gasped. She hadn’t seen it when we walked out of the hotel. Though I didn’t know how she missed the Colosseum. It was huge. Towering. Crumbling. Overpowering. It gave me a creepy feeling, but it was an incredible sight.

  “Whoa.”

  “Our room overlooks it.” I pointed up to the building behind us.

  “This is amazing. Let’s go.” She practically ran down the street.

  “I thought you were hungry.”

  “But the Colosseum…Come on.” She pulled on my hands like an impatient child.

  “It will be there tomorrow when we have tickets. You want to wait in that line?” I nodded in the direction of the thousand-plus people lining the street in the sweltering heat.

  “Have we got tickets?”

  I just gave her a blank stare. “Of course we have tickets.”

  “You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?”

  “Except where to eat.”

  We wandered around a little more with Wren always heading back in the direction of the Colosseum. It was almost as though there was a magnetic pull. She had to be close to it and have it in sight at all times. She was in awe.

  Eventually she stopped and shrugged. “Let’s eat here.”

  “Where?”

  “Here.” She glanced at the tables and chairs on the pavement.

  “At the subway station?”

  “They have food, don’t they? And look at the view.” She spread her arms in a wide gesture at the Colosseum which was directly across the road.

  I thought we’d find somewhere a little nicer to go. More private. Classy. Not sitting by the road where hundreds of people walked by every hour. I gave her an easy smile. “If you’re sure.”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “I am.”

  We sat down at a small table that faced the Colosseum and admittedly, even though it wasn’t the nicest place to eat—there wasn’t even a visible kitchen, they were bringing food out from somewhere in the subway station—it was a pretty spectacular view, and the smile on Wren’s face was totally worth it.

  Wren

  TATE HAD SPENT the morning on his phone with Steve discussing things in secret. And though I knew it was none of my business, I kind of felt left out whenever he went and shut himself in the bathroom.

  I was standing on the balcony overlooking the Colosseum with a wine while Tate was yet again on the phone to Steve. It was a breathtaking sight at night with the lights. And just as incredible in the light of day inside.

  We were up early this morning to have breakfast and beat the queues at the Colosseum. Even though we had tickets, there was still a line to get in.

  We spent a few hours exploring the Colosseum. It was daunting and a little jarring to think that was where the Romans held their gladiator fights. I could almost picture it when it was at it’s prime. It would have been magnificent. All the spectators. The blood. There would have been so much blood.

  After the Colosseum, we explored Rome some more.
The ruins at the Roman Forum and everything from the Spanish Steps to Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. It was such a busy day and overwhelming to be surrounded by so much history. I understood why so many people flocked to Rome daily.

  The sliding door opened behind me, and Tate’s arms slid around my waist, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  I sighed and leaned back into his arms. “Enjoying the view. It’s beautiful here. Thank you.”

  Tate was quiet. He responded by simply placing a kiss on the top of my shoulder.

  “Ready for bed?” he asked after a while.

  I stifled a yawn. “I’m not tired.” I didn’t want to say goodbye to the view just yet. Rome at night was something to behold.

  Tate chuckled. “Don’t you want your beauty sleep for your photo with the pope tomorrow?”

  “What are you trying to say?” I turned in his arms and frowned.

  “Just that we had a big day. You should get some rest before tomorrow. I know I’m exhausted.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, you wouldn’t be if you slept at night.”

  “I’d sleep at night if you didn’t tempt me so much.” His hands slipped down to my waist and grabbed my butt, pulling me into him.

  “I do no such thing.” I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away before skipping inside with a laugh.

  “Liar,” he called after me.

  I pulled my leggings off, kicking them to the side, leaving me in just his t-shirt. I glanced over my shoulder at Tate. His eyes were on my bare legs before lifting slowly and settling on my face.

  He groaned. “I like you in my shirt.”

  I gave him my best innocent smile as I slipped into bed and pulled his shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor.

  “Fuck,” he cursed and stripped off his clothes in record time before ripping the covers back and climbing in beside me. He rolled me onto my side and curved his body around mine. His arm wrapped around me and settled on my chest, his knee between mine.

  “Tate?”

  “Mmmhmm?” He snuggled closer, his breath hot on my neck.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sleeping.”